Boston Sunrisers

Boston Sunrisers has served as a beacon of hope to the drunk and addicted since 1939. The Sunrisers, as they have come to be known, is one of the oldest AA meetings in Boston. It was founded by a friend of Bill Wilson, Albert Allerton and one of Bill's reclamation projects, Danny Green.

Albert or "Bertie" as his friends called him since his collegial days at Choate, was the last in a dying line of Boston Brahmins. Bertie was a first class high society lush. In cocktail party conversations Bertie would routinely trace his lineage back to some important passenger that arrived on the Mayflower. Bertie's Pilgrims progression has grounded his ship onto the rocks of acute alcoholism. He was bent on drinking up the remains of his family's depression depleted trust fund; and Old Bertie might have been successful had he not had the good fortune to receive a call from Bill. Bill telephoned one evening as Bertie was enjoying a rare moment of sobriety. It seems that Bill, ever the AA evangelist, was cruising the city's sanitariums looking for conversion recruits. He found one in a very sick Dorchester fellow named Danny Green. Danny, was an out of work unemployable iron worker. When work at the Boston Navy Yard dried up he tried to drink the depression away. Bill found him in a sanitarium and got the idea of hooking him up with his old drinking buddy Bertie.

This odd couple would not have normally mixed in class conscious Boston. As the old doggerel "Boston Toast" opines...

And this is good old Boston
The home of bean of cod
Where the Lowells talk only to Cabots
And the Cabots talk only to God

Like nationalism, a shared disease is a great leveler and their conditions as drunkards brought them together in a common desire to get sober. They started the Sunrisers as an early morning meeting so Bertie's banker buddies and blue collar commandos like Danny could get into a good sober routine to start the working day. The meeting thrived. Danny would too. The blessings of sobriety were many and he became a prominent union leader who would be credited with maintaining labor peace at the Boston Navy Yards during WW II. Danny would often say that only by the grace of God, the blessed Virgin Mother and Bill's divine intervention that he would realize the promise of an abundant life.

Tragically the story of the other Sunrisers co founder does not have a happy ending. Bertie got clean for about six good years before he went back to the drink after squandering the family fortune in a bad business deal. Ironically, Bertie would die only two years later in the same sanatorium where Bill rescued Danny from the imminent death of his acute alcoholism.



The works of men however do live past their lives and this mornings Sunrisers meeting was packed. For over 20 years, Sunrisers have been meeting in the common room at Our Blessed Lady of the Harbor Church on High Street. The old wooden floors squeaked and creaked as people arrived. Burly construction guys, effeminate office workers, tie wearing middle managers and casually dressed small business people chattered away as they filed into the rows of folding chairs facing the podium. One would be hard pressed to pick out any Brahmins from this morning gathering. The closest you'd get might be a junior portfolio manager from one of the city's prestigious asset management firms.

The room was boisterous and alive with laughter. Some loitered on the outskirts of the room. Some people were beaming with great expectations and excitedly shared them with others. Some were soaring high on a bevy of pink clouds. Some looked a little worn and tired by the tussles of the drinking life. Some beaten badly and white knuckling a hold on to a precarious sobriety that may escape at any minute. Some just desperate to exit the hell of alcoholism and drug addiction. And some just came for the donuts.

Two huge 50 cup coffee kettles were brewing away. The coffee maker, a woman coming up on a year was battling with a not yet sober drunk eager to get his coffee to go with the three Dunkin Donuts he grabbed off the serving tray.

"You'll have to wait. its still brewing" she scolded. "You got to give it time. You got to learn to live on life's terms not your own!"

The drunk retreated to one of the seats, sat down and sucked the jelly out of one of the donuts. He got powdered sugar all over his face and shirt. One of his buddies living rough plopped down next him. "I told ya they got the good donuts here" the dunk said to his buddy as he was moving his next donut, a Boston Cream, toward his mouth.

The gavel fell and the noise from the crowd abated.

"Hi my name is Melissa and I am an alcoholic." A middle aged woman with over 20 years sobriety, Melissa was looking real good this morning. The bangs of her frosted hair were touching the rims of her snazzy eyeglasses. Nice skirt and stockings said she was all business and a real knockout.

"Hi Melissa." the meeting answered.

Melissa read the first few paragraphs of Chapter 5 from the Big Book, "How It Works" and another member of the meeting read the "12 Steps." Melissa asked the secretary to review the meetings business, announce group celebrants and any AA news.

The meetings treasurer then reported that the rent had been paid, they had 230 bucks in the kitty and passed a giant white bucket that was once filled with potato salad. He held it high over his head as he announced, "AA got no dues or fees and is self supporting. If you got a buck, give a buck. If you don't, keep coming because your sobriety is more important then your money."

He threw two bucks into the bucket. He passed it to Melissa who flipped a fin over the buckets rim. She passed the bucket to the secretary who passed it along to began its journey through the room. Most threw dollar bills into it as it wined its way along the rows of chairs.

"Sunrisers is a speaker discussion meeting. Our speaker today is Russ G." Melissa announced as Russ walked to the podium. The meeting broke out in robust applause.

Russ speaks:

I'm a recovering alcoholic
Old Russ announced with a wink
thank you for coming today
and keeping me away from a drink

I've been haunting these rooms
for a few 24s
by Gods grace and the program
I got a shot at one more

My journey to sobriety
My experience, strength and hope
I pray it will help you
Conquer demons, booze and dope

When I first got sober
oh what a bloody task
I never really wanted it
I craved that damned flask

I took my first drink
at the age of eleven
the first sip I took
I thought I found heaven

I considered myself
a most different sort
never fitting in
till I took a good snort

a genuine odd fellow
many would say
but get a few in him
and he's kinda OK

but the drink became legion
a non stop affair
I breathed in the booze
like it was precious air

as a man with a condition
we got a peculiar trait
immediate gratification required
nothing ever can sate

just more, one more
I say it on cue
one more, ten more
a hundred won't due

I cared not for family
couldn't hold a job
wouldn't take a bath
I became an awful slob

I smashed up more cars
then one can count
I was a killer on the road
damned whiskey, I couldn't surmount

The drink took everything
I lost family, friends and home
I was an unemployable drunk
I was miserable and alone

Oh how I loved it
but it didn't love me back
at the spy age of 40
I suffered a massive heart attack

My liver was damaged
my pancreas shot
the nurse asked "will he make it"
the doctored answered "probably not"

my recovery was painful
DT's and anguished sweats
my mind was in meltdown
my heart filled with regret

as I laid in the hospital
one miraculous glorious dawn
I grasped the blessing of sobriety
no longer boozes pawn

I came to AA meetings
got a sponsor too
cleaned ashtrays, made coffee
in recovery I bloomed

I became employable
I healed wounds with friends
my family now trusts me
I learned to make amends

Only by the grace of God
these rooms and time
the promises of the program
are wonderfully mine

so if your struggling with
demons of drink and dark fate
be patient keep coming
your new life awaits

The meeting erupted in a rousing applause. Many Sunrisers have known Russ for years and he is venerated as one of the weightier voices within the rooms of Boston.

"Show of hands, who would like to share this morning. We'll start in the back." said Russ pointing to an older woman.

"Its always good to hear your story Russ. You are a great inspiration to many." she began. She went on to speak about her husband's ill health and how difficult it is to be his primary care person. She said she felt like Bill Murry in Groundhog Day. She went on for a number of minutes. She concluded with an unconditional endorsement of the AA program. She said its critical in maintaining her sobriety so she can endure the drudgery of her painful days. Others spoke about problems they are having in relationships, family and job issues. One man spoke about how his wife discovered that he was still using painkillers. She was threatening to throw him out of the house. A few of the attendees were counting days and said that they planned to keep coming. It was all pretty garden variety stuff until a newcomer raised his hand.

"The gentleman in the back." Russ said pointing to a middle aged guy slumped in his seat. He was sitting with his arms crossed across his chest. Buy the look of him, you can tell this guy was shut down, buttoned up, unsure, afraid and resentful.

Shamus began:

my name is Shamus
this is my first meeting ever
I need to stop drinking
right now and forever

My wife has left me
she took all the kids
alone and abandoned
my life hit the skids

I've been listening all morning
and hear some sorrowful tales
I got plenty of my own stories
of many hurts and fails

I hadn't a drink
for the past two days
but my limbs are clanking
my brains a gooey haze

I drink to feel good
I drink to chase blues
I drink to feel mighty
I drink and pay dues

I drink for the memories
I drink for the pain
I drink to forget
Not to relive it again

I can't stop drinking
I can't, I can't
I know its no good
It makes me piss my pants

I'm obsessed and addicted
I can't get enough
Chug a gallon of wine
I'll need more of the stuff

I want to stop drinking
but I love my beer
with a Red Hot at Fenway
and a good Sox cheer

I drink for the Celtics
I toast the great Pats
The Bruins, the Eagles
I wear all their caps

The wife and kids gone
the rent is past due
Got a DUI last Monday
don't know what to do

I'm afraid that my job
will discover my arrest
when they do I'll lose it
I'll have nothing left

I have to stop drinking
but I fear its too late
a man without work
is a terrible state

I'm afraid very fearful
all may be lost
but if I stop drinking
there may be some hope

Shamus stopped speaking.

Russ answered, "Thanks for bringing your stuff today Shamus. You have taken an important step. All of us at one time or another sat in the seat your sitting in today. Thinking our lives are over because of the mess our alcoholism has brought into our lives. The first step is realizing that our lives have become unmanageable and that we are powerless over alcohol. You took a very important step this morning Shamus. Congratulations. See me after the meeting so I can give you some information. We have a nice way to close."

Everyone rose from their seats and formed a circle around the room. They held hands. An older man and a young woman clasped Shamus's cold clammy hands.

Melissa spoke. "The Sun has come up on another day of potential sobriety and all the amazing grace and potential it brings with it. Don't waste it. Keep in the day. Stay sober. One day at a time.! Lets close with the Serenity Prayer."

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Amen

The group recited the prayer with bravado and conviction. Shamus returned to his seat and grabbed his canvass gym bag. Russ stopped him as he walked toward the door.

"Shamus, this is not the end, this is a beginning of a new life. If you want it you can have it. Here. You gonna need these." Russ handed Shamus a Big Book, a Twelve and Twelve and a meeting finder.

"Shamus, get to as many meetings as you can. This book lists em all and there are phone numbers of Sunriser men you can call. If you feel like drinking call somebody. Any guy on the list will be happy you called. They'll help you. Thats how it works. What are you doing today? There is a meeting on Huntington Street that starts in an hour."

Shamus recoiled. "I got to get to work now. But I'll try to get back here soon." Shamus slipped the books into his gym bag, slung it over his shoulder and limped out of the room. He was out on the street by 7:05 and headed toward work.

meth addicts

12 steps debunked

12 step joker

aa cult

BOOM BOOM

A metallic flash of crushing energy and voracious sound exploded through the facade of the Union Station. The sleek classical columns and Constantinian Archways crumbled into a zephyr of advancing smoke and billows of dust. It was like watching the collapse of Sampson after a haircut at Delilah's.

A flash of light
and thunderous sound
knocked all the people
to the ground

chunks and bits
of concrete flew
the Union Station
in a whiff just blew

apart into pieces
dust and jagged glass
nothing withstood
the tumult of the blast

scattered and broken
in desolation lives ended
innocents slaughtered
dreams suspended

what vexed and angry force
could light this terrible torch?
crumbling arches tearing keystones
this iconoclastic scorch

a sickness you say
of body, mind and spirit
too aggrieved and resentful
derangement gets the credit

ghostly shadow's gather
specters of force and might
pervasive threats devastate
some will not return home this night

happenstance of time
fickleness of fate
strange coincidentals
all pass through this gate

Who set this fuse?
who lit the torch?
that blew apart
our country's heart

a mind of ugly sickness
and a soul full of pain
a heart bent on malice
the definition of insane

does the culprit stand in glee
at the carnage of this act
does that type feel anything
for this murderous attack?

What profit them
from the agony of terror
holding our imagination hostage
compensates the bearer

Before this dreadful perversity
all sat well in the land of plenty
freedoms serenity guaranteed
everyman, the king of endless liberties

but the evil doers hate us
for our beliefs and what we have
this heinous deed of mayhem
alone shall make them glad

whoever lit this fuse
and lobbed this bomb
rest assured damned terrorists
we'll place you in your tomb


The sirens blared throughout the plaza of the station littered with debris.

"Holy shit. Holy Shit."

"What happened?"

"Whaaa"

Sirens blared.

Cries lifted up to the Lord. Moans and groans of incomprehensible injury were uttered.

"Where is she?"

"Donna!!"

A young cop came running from across the street. Unable to comprehend what he was witnessing looked on with shock and awe overwhelmed at the extent of the damage. He stood astride a dust covered cabbage patch doll. He kicked it aside.

"Jesus Christ." he gulped.

"What happened.?"




Boom Boom!!!!!!!!!!!

Indeed, what happened?

Cab Ride to Union Station

The Jamaican cabbie was racing up New Jersey Avenue.

"Don't worry Mon, I'll git ju to dere on time. I know short cuts. I got the knowledge."

"Thats well and good", the passenger snorted from the back seat as he shifted and swayed to the left from the cabbies sharp right turn.

"Hold on Mon; or you be rollin round like a melon ball with all the space you got back dere".

The old LTD had space alright. It was one of those mid 90 monstrosities that forgot about the 70's oil embargo. It was a down right clunker. Spittin fumes out of its tail pipe, the cab's front wheel panels were rattling in perfect rhythm to Buffalo Soldiers playing on the cabbies portable cassette deck. The radio was busted because the cabbie broke the antenna off the hood to whip ass on a would be mugger that tried to rob him a couple years ago. Man he whipped that crack heads ass but good.



But the cabbie was right in his observation about his passenger; an exceedingly well dressed and very round white guy whose face was wet dripping droplets of sweat onto his nice pink tie. He looked anxious as he jostled himself to stare out the windows first the front windshield then the side rear. The late afternoon light was most unkind to the man; revealing a pasty honey dew complexion that was simply ghastly.

He most definitely looked accustomed to using finer modes of travel but the Jamaican cowboy at the wheel was his best shot at making the 3:35 Palmetto to Charleston.

"I've been walking the halls of congress all week fella. I'm exhausted. I must get home though. My Mother has not been feeling well these past few months. She is in her 80's and I worry that she's knocking around the old house all by her lonesome. When I'm away and gone for so long she worries about me. I just wish she would move into my Georgetown Townhouse. I have plenty of room. But she is so attached. She won't let it go." The fare's voice tailed off and wistfully looked out of the passenger window.

"This is the last train out for today."

"We'll Mon I'll take ya to the airport. You can ride on a jet plane. They fly all da time"

"Oh no, that would not do. I like to stretch out. I prefer the room of the train."

Indeed. If this guy rode in a plane he probably be charged for two seats. He'd be hard pressed to fit in one. This guy is every air travelers nightmare. No one wants to be seated next to him.

The cabbie made another left and you could see the clunky Classicism of Union Station. The entrance way was a swirl of people darting in and out of the many arched entrance ways. Street vendors were plying their wares and a mass of others were loitering about in the afternoon sunshine.

At the curb, a bearded black cop was hassling a man who was illegally idling his Sierra minivan in a no parking lane. A woman and 2 small girls were getting out of the van. Each one sporting a pink backpack. Both cradled cabbage patch dolls in the nest of their arms. One was patting her dolls hair while the other was kissing its hand. Both were cooing soft assurances that all was well. The frenetic woman circled the girls like a hen guarding errant chicks; while the man driving the van pulled luggage out it's rear door as he jawed away with the cop. The policeman repeatedly pointed to a no parking sign as he swooped his arm into a circular motion to convey the urgency that this guys got to move his ass.

"Keep it moving buddy." Blaring horns and the vibrant arpeggio of honks grew louder and more urgent as a caravan of departures edged closer to the drop off point.

Dashing commuters quickly passed with seeming ambivalence. Everyone was tricked out with an electronic gadget. They were either talking on cell phones, texting on Blueberries or securing dangling white IPOD headphone wires. Wearing torn jeans and hooded sweaters, back pack toting college students mixed with neatly suited government bureaucrats behaving like business executives and low income budget travelers. Based on their speed of pace or ease of gait; they whisked through the plaza with varying degrees of urgency.

The mother finally got her chicks in order. She kissed her husband goodbye and started schlepping the two large wheeling carryons offloaded from the van. The straps of a large orange shoulder bag crossed her breast like brazen bandoleers. The bag she neatly secured underneath her right arm. Relieved from parental responsibilities, the man flashed a huge smile as he waved to his kids, jumped into the van and glided away into the DC streets.

The cabbie looked at his watch. It was 3:20. His passenger had 15 minutes to walk through the terminal and get his ass on the train. He believed his passenger had a good shot at making the 3:35. That is if he doesn't get distracted by a Cinnabon.

"That'll be $22.50 Mon." The passenger started rolling around again. He was trying to position his body so he could dislodge the wallet from his hip pocket. He keeps it there for safekeeping from pickpockets.

The cabbie popped the trunk. Cabs, cars and buses were belching smoke, honking horns as they jostled for space under the no parking signs while the fare continued to wrestle with his pocket pants.

The bearded cop slowly started to walk toward the cab. "Hey cabs drop off over there." he shouted. The cabbie shrugged, "Ya Mon. He's runnin a bit late." I'm pushin off soon." The cop was reaching for his ticket book.

Finally the passenger liberated his wallet from his tight fitting pants.

"Do you take American Express", he quizzed.

"I take only cash Mon. Here is de sign that's been staring you at the face for the last 20 minutes." He tapped the Plexiglas enclosed memo. The passenger knew he had a few twenties. He opened his wallet. He looked inside.

BOOM!