Author: Ray Terhorst

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I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW

I will see clearly now! That’s because I will have Cataract surgery this coming Thursday, August 27, 2026. The surgeon has told me that I will have 20/20 vision and will not need to wear glasses again. That’s significant for me. I have been seeing through a fog for the past year and now that will be replaced with clear eyes.

Well that’s all well and good but there is a way I have learned to see more clearly for the past 42+ years. It’s called sobriety. Twelve simple Steps that have provided me with clear seeing and clear thinking. It all started on March 24, 1983. At first the haze that clouded my thinking was still thick but soon the fog began to dissipate. Steps that allowed me to see my problem and Steps that allowed me to find a God I had rebelled against and had forgotten about. Steps, that as my mind began to clear, allowed me to hold a mirror up to finally confront my previous behavior. More importantly I was able to confess the nature of my wrongs and find forgiveness from both my God and from myself. Freedom was on the horizon as I made amends and continued to find God and help my fellow human beings.

Perfect? Not quite. There were a few things AA could not help me with. It wasn’t until I heard a recovering cop alcoholic give me permission to seek psychological counseling for some deep seated problems that I began a different kind of walk in sobriety. The Twelve Steps remain the foundation of my life. I still practice them every day of my life and they still allow me to see clearly.

I added a few things to my life. I allowed other professionals to help me augment my sobriety. Dr. Wayne Dyer a fellow alcoholic wrote books that helped me change my life for the better. “Change Your Thought, Change Your Life”, “The Secrets of the Power of Intention”, “Wishes Fulfilled”, and many others. Books by Dr. Allen Berger, another recovering author who taught me about emotional sobriety in his book, “12 Smart Things to Do When the Booze and Drugs are Gone, Choosing Emotional Sobriety Through Self-Awareness and Right Action”. I had never given a thought to getting in touch with my feelings until I read Berger’s book. The book seemed to fill in those gaps that sometimes the Twelve Steps seemed to miss.

And certainly not last the Big Book, “Alcoholics Anonymous” seemed to read differently as I read it over and over again following the changes I was making in my life through the books I immersed myself in. Driving cross country by myself many times I would listen to the books on tape by Dr. Dyer and others.

Today I am a completely different person than I was 42 years ago and I never want to know that person again. I have a self-confidence! I have a spirituality that has allowed me to know a God of my understanding in a way I never thought was possible. I have owned my anger and realized I don’t want to be rid of it as it is a part of me, but now I control it. The way I look at life as a daily gift. How I have learned to “Live Life Lightly.” How my relationships have improved as a result of my additional studies.

I have found freedom! I really mean it. True freedom, free from fear. Fear that has been the cause of all my problems. But no more!

So, now perhaps I will be whole! I can see clearly now, both physically and emotionally!

Thanks for letting me share!!!

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AM I DOING ENOUGH?

In the next section of this newsletter you will be reading about Bill W. and Dr. Bob working to help a fellow alcoholic and the commitment to helping another reach sobriety.

It got me to thinking about how I donate my time and energy to others. In addition to working with other alcoholics, there are other opportunities to reach out to help those in need. For me, it is just another way to work the Twelfth Step.

The question that often arises for me is, “Am I really doing all I can to help?” To illustrate, let me tell you a real life story:

I had driven back to Los Angeles from New Mexico to take a class at the City Attorney’s Office. The class dealt with helping victims of natural disasters recover from the trauma they have experienced. One of the instructors was a gentleman from New Orleans who had survived Hurricane Katrina.

Dan spoke of the incomprehensible carnage left behind by Katrina. He described his efforts to get out of the area to a safe refuge. He and ten others were in his van headed north. They had been on the road for several hours. The roads were littered with cars that had been abandoned when they had run out of gas and he was also very low on fuel and unable to find any gas stations that had fuel available.

It was dark when he made the decision to pull off the road to find gas. He was concerned about the fact that he was in a white community and he and his passengers were black. In Louisiana, racial difficulties still exist. Shortly after pulling off the main highway he saw a sign offering assistance to Katrina survivors. He hesitantly turned into the driveway of the church where the sign was posted.

As he stopped his van, he was approached by several white people. They welcomed Dan and his passengers, took them inside, provided them with food and drink, a place to cleanup and offered them a place to sleep. Dan told me the one thing that meant the most to him was that he and his companions were made to feel cared for. In addition to the food they were provided, they were each given a space which was their own. They were given access to the church computer and telephone so they might let loved ones know they were safe. They were even provided with gasoline when they left the following morning.

Dan explained that these wonderful people held nothing back. They gave all they had to show their compassion and love. He said he had never felt so cared for as at that time.

This got me to thinking about my own ways of giving. I must have been an taking an inventory of my working the Twelfth Step.

I like to think I reach out to others unconditionally, but I realized that I usually hold a little something back. It is that selfish part of me. Instead of giving unconditional love and caring, I hold back the little bit I feel I should not have to part with. I don’t give away that jacket I haven’t worn in years even though its never been worn. I might need it someday. Or, when it is time to contribute food for those in need, do I only give what I don’t want or could I give the best I have?

The same thing with working that Twelfth Step. Do I go that extra mile to help another practicing alcoholic? Am I too busy with my life to work with another who is still struggling? Am I willing to get off my sorry ass and sit with that person, to take them to a meeting? Am I willing to donate my time to be a sponsor?

And this all spills over into my life in the real world of people who are hurting or in need. Am I being the best I can be to make my community the best it can be?

The best part of not drinking is that I can answer these questions honestly for myself. If I was still drinking, I wouldn’t even concern myself with this subject. My only concern was for myself and my next drink. Today I feel blessed that I can be a volunteer. In my own small way it is the way to give back for all the time I squandered on myself.

Isn’t sobriety great???? Thanks for letting me share!!!

RECOVERING ADDICT NUMBER:
“X” Million Two Hundred Seventeen Thousand and Twenty Three….and Counting.
By Bill Wigmore

On June the 10th, 1935 for the very first time in history, one drunk successfully carried the recovery message to another. Bill Wilson was sober only about 5 months when he told Dr. Bob Smith his story of what alcohol had done to him and what God had done for him. Miracle of miracles, Bob responded. Both men were in need of a miracle that day, and both men got one. Their miracles looked different. One was carrying the message and one was having it carried to him; but what each man needed, each received.

Within a few weeks, it was time for the miracle to be passed yet again. Dr. Bob said to his new sponsor, “If you and I are going to stay sober, we had better get busy.” Their first new recruit looked tough enough to give them second thoughts. He was an attorney named Bill D. who’d been detoxed on several previous occasions. He had just been through a bad case of DT’s and in the process of being admitted to the hospital this time, he’d given black eyes to two of the nurses. But none of this stopped Bill and Bob from carrying out their mission

A painting that appeared in the Saturday Evening Post article on AA by Jack Alexander captures the spirit that was present among those three men huddled together in that little hospital room. You’ll sometimes see a print of this scene hanging on the wall of an AA meeting room. It’s known as “The Man on the Bed” and that man will be forever known as “Alcoholic Number Three.”

Bill D. listened patiently as the two well-dressed strangers shared their stories of what it was like, what happened, and what it was like now. The man on the bed told his visitors that he was terrified to leave the safety of the hospital because he knew what was waiting for him out there. He wanted to believe that this strange new spiritual program that had worked for these two drunks could work for him too. He wanted to believe but he couldn’t. “This thing sounds wonderful for you fellows, but it can’t be for me. Thanks for coming.” he says. “But, no thanks.”

Bill D. had arrived at the turning point that I think every new addict arrives at sooner or later. The program sounds good – he or she can see with their own eyes that it can help others – but can it really work for the likes of them too? Bill D. spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep, but in the end, the lawyer says it was his own inflated ego that finally got him over the hump. “If these two Bozo’s can do it,” he thought, “then maybe I can too.” God works in mysterious ways, and for us drunks and addicts, he can even turn a character defect into a saving grace.

So, that night in Akron, Ohio, hope came to a third helpless alcoholic. The message had been successfully passed once again. And when he left the safety of that hospital, ironically, he was released on Independence Day 1935. Bill D. truly left as a free man. And no sooner was he out the door when Alcoholic Number Three went searching for Alcoholic Number Four. It’s been that way ever since.

Getting sober isn’t just about our quitting drinking and drugging. We’ve all quit those things before. But getting sober is finding a way to live out here in the world when it comes our time to leave the hospital and when we’re terrified to go because we know that our demons are laying in wait for us too.

Most of us will face problems that look and feel like they’re truly insurmountable. We’ve got no money, no car, no job, and no skills . Maybe everyone’s left us or our kids have been taken away. Maybe we have an amends to make that terrifies us or another addiction in our life that has yet to be healed. Part of us just wants to hide under the covers forever or run away to get drunk or stoned – give in to our demons and go join them howling at the moon, “Thanks but no thanks.”

At those times, try to remember Bill D. Look around you – look at the ones who are making it –- listen to them as they tell you what it was like – what happened – and what it’s like now – and then, listen once again. Listen to that voice inside; the voice we all know really, really well. It’s the voice of our own egos – but surrendered into God’s hands it can do wonders. Maybe you’ll hear it say, “If these Bozo’s can do it – so can I.”

So get up out of your bed. Go find yourself an alcoholic who’s in worse shape than you are – world’s actually full of them – and then go tell addict number “X” Million Two Hundred Seventeen Thousand and Twenty Four what God’s done for you. The Book says “We’re gonna be amazed before we’re half-way through. We’re gonna know a new freedom and a new happiness. We won’t regret the past nor will we wish to shut the door on it. We’ll suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. Those are just some of the 12 Promises – but never forget the 13th Promise. It’s important God’s kingdom is full of Bozo’s, and there’s always room for one more.”

Reprinted with permission from the August 2007 Recovery Today

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UNSEEN ANGELS

Sometimes we don’t realize when we are in danger and when unseen angels protect us without us even knowing it. The following is a story that happened to me back in February of 1968 when I was a rookie deputy sheriff beginning my career in a patrol car:

I had joined the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department in April of 1967. I finished the grueling Academy in August and was assigned to the old Hall of Justice Jail. The jail was built in 1929 and occupied the top five floors of a fourteen story building. Here’s an interesting tidbit: The top five floors were jails and the bottom 9 floors were courtrooms and criminal justice offices.

The building sat on two separate foundations. The bottom nine floors sat on a foundation typically designed to hold up a building of nine stories. The top five floors sat on a foundation that included several large balls. Each was 24 feet in diameter and constructed of concrete. The theory was this: Since Los Angeles was plagued with earthquakes, the idea was that if the bottom nine floors were to fall away, the top five floors would allow the prisoners to survive by holding top of the building in place and allowing it to move on the foundational balls that supported it. To this day there have been many earthquakes but the theory has never been put to the test.

Back to my story: Following graduation from the Sheriff’s Academy deputies are assigned to the jails before being allowed into patrol. I was 21-years-old when I joined the department and spent 16 months working the jails before being transferred to Temple Station in Temple City, California, located in the beautiful San Gabriel Valley.

I arrived at the Sheriff’s Station in December of 1968 and was assigned to Gene, my training officer. I was spit and polish, had all new equipment and was ready to make my mark on the world.

That February of 1968 it rained almost every day. Everything and everyone was inundated with these heavy rains that had brought mudslides and flooding.

Gene and I were working the graveyard shift in the city of Duarte. This is a foothill community located at the base of the San Gabriel mountains. Around two o’clock in the morning, Gene and I were dispatched to the San Gabriel Gun Club to rescue the caretaker who had called the station asking to be evacuated due to flooding.

The gun club is located in Fish Canyon about 3 miles north of the city of Duarte. Gene drove our patrol car up the paved road as far as we could before reaching the unpaved section that was impassable due to mud. We got out of our patrol car and began the trek on foot to the gun club located about a quarter of a mile away. The going wasn’t too bad. We were protected by our police issued yellow slickers and our boots. It was muddy but not too difficult to navigate.

We were thankful when we reached the cement driveway leading up to the gun club. We approached the living quarters of the maintenance man who kept an eye on things and knocked on the door. The door was opened by a middle aged man who was obviously intoxicated. He looked at us with bleary eyes while being unsteady on his feet. Gene asked him if he was ready to go. He was belligerent and demanded to know where the whiskey was he had ordered. We had no desire to deal with this individual, determined he was in no immediate danger as there was no evidence of flooding in his area. We left him in his intoxicated state and began the trek back to our patrol car.

As we began our trek back to our car, we were unable to find the road again. It was entirely gone. Off in the distance, we could see two patrol cars with their red lights and spotlights on. They were using their speakers to tell us to stay where we were that rescuers were on the way. What? We didn’t need rescuing, we were fine…we thought.

Eventually the fire department arrived and we were led out of the area on a life line through swirling muddy water that was up to our chests. Our patrol car was nowhere to be seen and Gene and I were still a bit disoriented as to what was going on. Once we reached safety, the deputies who had arrived to check on us told the story.

When they arrived they could not reach our patrol car as there was a torrent of water keeping them from moving up the road. They couldn’t see our patrol car, as a flash flood had come through taking everything in its path. The mud was up to the top of the telephone poles, the road impassable and they were believing the worst, that we had been swept away in the flood. It was only when they saw the light from our flashlights that they realized we were okay and began rescue efforts.

Gene and I were soaked, our uniforms and equipment ruined. We were covered in mud from head to toe. The next morning our patrol car was found nearly a quarter of a mile downstream where the flash flood had taken it. It was completely filled with mud inside and only the emergency lights were seen above the mud.

Now, you might be asking yourself, “How did we get back to safety and whatever happened to the guy who caused all of this in the first place.

We were separated from safety by a raging river of water a few hundred yards wide. Thanks to the Fire Department we were guided to safety. These brave men were able to somehow get a rope tethered to each side of this raging river. To this day, I have no idea how they accomplished this feat, but they did. We entered the water and held on to the rope. Every few yards was a fire fighter who made sure we did not let go of the rope and we eventually reached the safety of the other side. To add just a wee bit of additional drama to this rescue, as we were being guided through this river, one of the fire fighters told us to be cautious of rattlesnakes in the water. Like we needed one thing more on our minds.

That same afternoon, the rain stopped and the maintenance man called again asking to be rescued. This time a helicopter was dispatched, the man was rescued and arrested and booked for reporting a false emergency.

It wasn’t until much later that the severity of the situation really sank in. This time my life flashed before my eyes following the event. I thought of the effect of leaving my wife and daughter, parents and friends. A matter of a few minutes or a few seconds were the difference between life and death. There is no way we could have survived if we had been caught in the flood. It seemed surreal as I reflected on the life-threatening experience I had survived.

I’ve always been close to my Grandma Haag. She passed away when I was fifteen but I have always felt her presence close to me. I’d like to believe she had something to do with saving me that night. I’ve always felt she is my guardian angel as I have survived several near death experiences throughout my lifetime and I have attributed them to God’s grace as he provided His angels to look over me. I think my Grandma Haag is my guardian angel.

One thing I know for sure. There are guardian angels. I am living proof of that.

Thank you God for your protection!!!

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WHO DOESN’T LOVE AN ADVENTURE

Adventure and the challenge it conjures up in our mind comes in a variety of shapes and sizes.

Recently, I was talking with Tim, the construction foreman for the contractor building our home in New Mexico.

We spoke of the bear and the cougar he had seen in the area. He told me of a meadow on the other side of the mountain behind our house and of the family of bears that the oldtimers said lived there.
He asked me if I had seen the cave near the top of the mesa? He said it was big enough to drive a truck into.

He had me hooked. I followed his directions and indeed could see a large cave near the top of the mountain, just below the mesa. I was mesmerized. Looking through binoculars, it appeared as if part of the cave had been walled up, meaning humans had used it. Tim thought it might be a mine. I was warned not to go alone as the cave may be the home to rattlesnakes, cougars or bears. Whatever this cave was, I had to see it up close and personal, but getting there was a problem.

The cave is situated at the top of a very steep mountain. And even if I could climb the mountain, it would be a difficult proposition to get to the cave itself. I wondered and thought about the best way to get there. I had become a child again, with all the romance and adventure of finding treasure and artifacts filling my thoughts.

As it turned out, the answer on getting to the cave came through a roundabout way. Every other Tuesday, several of us get together for a hike. It was decided a couple of weeks ago to climb the mountain behind our house. Three of us made it to the top while others turned back. At the top, we made the decision not to descend the same way we had come, since the trail was treacherous. As we hiked out in another direction, we came across an old dirt road. It was this road that provided the solution to getting to the cave. I kept track of where the road went, and a few days later, I drove back to the road. I followed it for several miles and then, through several trial and error hikes I found the general location of the cave. Now we would not have to climb up to the cave, we could hike down to it from above.

I returned to tell Tim, and yesterday we made the trek to the cave. We spent a couple of hours hiking to the vicinity of the cave and then descended the mountain in our effort to locate it. The going was difficult and several times the mountain gave way causing us to grab on to the nearest tree or bush to keep from tumbling many feet below. We knew we had no cell phone reception in the area and it would take a very long time to get to medical help should we become injured. With great care and persistence, we approached and finally reached our goal.

What we thought was a cave turned out not to be a cave at all. Rock had crumbled and fallen leaving an overhang above. This gave the illusion of a cave from below.

Although this adventure did not turn out the way we thought it might, we were thrilled that we had reached our goal. We now could stop wondering what the cave was like as we looked at it from below. It was a fine day.

I could not help but think that this was very much like my walk with alcoholism. Once I had made the decision to stop drinking, I looked at my path. Although it was unclear at the time, I was given Twelve Steps to reach my goal. The trip I had planned for myself to become sober did not materialize in the way I thought it would. Many twists and turns have come, but the Twelve Steps are still leading my way. Sobriety is not what I thought it would be, it is many times better and the adventure is new and exciting.

The adventure of life is ours for the taking.

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TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS, AND AUTOMOBILES

Like most boys at 15 I was enthralled by cars. I would spend time at the local hobby shop looking at and purchasing plastic models of a variety of model cars. Once I got them home I would paint them, usually in candy apple colors, and then customize them. Some would be lowered in the front, some in the back, some had a continental kit added and some were chopped. I just enjoyed my romance with model cars.

My dad had always been a Nash man. My first memory was of his 1946 Nash and then later his 1951 Nash. The 1951 Nash looked like an upside down bathtub, but my dad loved his Nash. My job was to make sure that car was washed every Saturday and that it was polished a few times a year. That job lasted for a very long time since my dad bought the car new and we had it until it was destroyed in 1962. More about that later.

The Nash was in an Airflyte model and when we were kids we’d try and convince my cousin, Gary, that the car could fly. Of course he did not believe it so we showed him where, right on the dashboard in chrome lettering, were printed the word “Airflyte”. My dad and mom perpetuated this myth when I would ask my dad to put out the wings so we could fly. He would come up with the excuse that there were too many cars around and no room to extend them. My cousin who was probably about 8 or 9 was pretty gullible and bought into it hook, line and sinker. It was great fun!

My dad did buy a 1951 Chevy before he bought the Nash. He piled the whole family into the car. He, my mom, my sister and me. He drove us up to Mount Wilson located a few miles north of Pasadena, California and the highest peak overlooking the San Gabriel Valley. When we got home, he took the car back to the dealership and turned it back in. No Chevy for him. He’d stick to the Nash.

In 1962 my dad bought a used 1959 Chevy station wagon, just like the one pictured here. That was our Sunday go to meeting car and our number one car while the Nash was used to get my dad back and forth to work. By now my three brothers had appeared on the scene and thus the need for a station wagon. Not sure who the car belonged to before but it had a really unusual item that had been added on.

Just to the left of the steering column and mounted just below the dashboard was a Kerr fruit jar. Leading from the top of the fruit jar was a tube that extended up and next to the steering column. The tube was attached to a chrome funnel about an inch across and it had a small latch that allowed the funnel to open and close. This was something I have never seen before or since. It was a place to dispose of lighted cigarettes. My dad and I both smoked but the person the car had belonged to was a chain smoker according to the used car salesman who sold us the car. You would finish your cigarette and then place the lighted butt in the funnel, push the latch and a vacuum would suck the butt into the fruit jar where it would extinguish itself.

I was 15 ½ and yearned for my California Learner’s Permit so I could drive with one of my parents in the car. I spoke to my dad about getting my permit but he said I could get it but before I could get my license at 16 I’d have to find a way to pay for my own insurance. I got my permit, took a driver’s training course offered through the high school and enjoyed driving. When I turned 16 I did not have money to pay for insurance so no license. However, my dad had never been one for obeying all the traffic rules, so very often I was allowed to drive the Nash…by myself…no parents or anyone else in the car.

I am reminded of another time my dad scoffed at the rules. My dad, mom, sister and I were at Keeler and Stimmel’s, an appliance store in Temple City, California. Not sure why we were there but my dad did not put any money into the parking meter. I was about 6 years old at the time and as luck would have it an officer appeared and began writing out a parking ticket. My dad flew out the door and told the officer he had just gone in to get change to put in the meter. Well, I knew that was not true and I had been raised (in my short time living on the planet) the importance of telling the truth. I ran out behind him and told my dad he must be mistaken, that we’d been there for a long time. I don’t remember if he got the ticket or not, but if looks could kill I would have been dead a long time ago.

Now, I really wanted to use the Chevy for my dates. It certainly was not a “chick magnet” but it was way better than the Nash, the upside down bathtub. Unfortunately, the Chevy was off limits. I was allowed to use the Nash if I only drove it locally. Out to a local drive-in restaurant, a drive-in theater, or to church and back.

I was embarrassed to invite a date out and show up in the Nash but it was all I had. There was one good side effect of the Nash. The car was a four door and it was advertised that the seats would lay down and make into a bed. As youngsters, my sister and I often slept in the car while my parents attended meetings or visited with friends. I remember one trip we made when we were returning home from a vacation. It was late at night and my dad was tired from driving. This was in the days before freeways and driving took a lot more attention than it does today because of blinding headlights and curvy and narrow highways.

We pulled off to the side of the road in Bakersfield, California. We were still about 4 hours from home so my parents laid the seats down and we all laid down to take a nap. Bakersfield was known as the earthquake capital of the United States back then and I remember that we had just gotten settled when my mom popped up and said, “What if there’s an earthquake?” “What if the earth opens and swallows us up?” Well that did it. Put the seats back up and hit the road. Everyone was too nervous and excited to sleep. As I look back on it, so what if there had been an earthquake. I think my mom watched too many movies.

Back to the story. The front passenger seat was broken and the back would sometimes fall back if somehow it was pulled forward a few inches. Otherwise it would stay in place. In high school, I had a steady girlfriend that lived across the street from the church we both attended. The parking lot on week nights was the perfect place to “park” and “share a little romance.” As we would be “making out” as it was very easy to release the broken seat and allow it to lay flat without missing a beat. Okay, I know what you may be thinking but I was a virgin until I got married a few years later. I only had the thoughts in my imagination, I did not act upon them.

In 1962 I was driving the Nash late one night when I was involved in a head-on collision with a 1959 Cadillac driven by a drunk driver. The driver of the Cadillac nearly died and I had a few stitches and lost a couple of teeth but survived. Unfortunately the Nash did not.

I eventually saved enough money to buy my first new car and pay for the insurance. It was a 1964 Volkswagen. No fold down seats, engine in the rear, trunk and gas tank under the hood. Not a lot of power, but it was mine all mine.

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THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD

I worked with Elvia Castenada, a records clerk with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. She is a kind-hearted, loving, compassionate, and hard working lady filled with the Grace of God. The following is the poem she wrote along with her beginning note on the 23rd Psalm.

“A love song for my King, written by me. Elvia Castenada. I love you my Lord with all my heart.”

The Lord is my Shepherd
And I will receive,
The richest of blessings,
If I but believe.

The greenest of meadows,
He placed for a bed,
A curtain of stars,
As I lay down my head.

Though rough are the waters,
My soul will not fear.
The storm will be silenced,
For my Lord, He is near.

And though I go tired,
He helps me grow strong.
He shows me the path,
As he leads me along.

The roads that I travel,
May send an alarm,
But I will not worry,
For He shields me from harm.

His rod will protect me;
A feast for a king,
My enemies gaze,
As a banquet He’ll bring.

He fills me with honor;
See my cup overflow.
His love and his goodness,
Will go where I go.

A home he has promised,
Built by His own hand.
A glorious mansion,
In a heavenly land.

I’ll live in His Kingdom;
I will not be bored,
For my journey will lead me,
To the house of the Lord.

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MORE ABOUT LIVING

“You’ll never amount to anything!” “You’re nothing but a lazy bum!” “You stop your crying or I will give you something to cry about!” “Don’t be such a cry baby!” “Why don’t you grow up!” “You stupid jackass!” “You’ll do as I say or else!”

Any of these phrases sound familiar to you? I am sure each of you could add many of your own. These are the phrases that used to play in my head. They were put there by the people who were important to me; my parents, my teachers, and others. I don’t think they set out to provide me with a poor self image, and in most cases, I don’t think they ever intended to hurt me. Over the years, however, these phrases became my crutch. I could blame others for my failures and lack of accomplishment. Even my drinking must have been caused by them. I think many of us over compensated by trying to live our lives to please others. We always strived for perfection and when we did not accomplish perfection, we heard those voices again. It took me a long time after I sobered up and joined AA to get the voices out of my head and take responsibility for my own life. I could continue to blame them or I could purge myself of my worthless self image and regain the perfect person God created when I entered this world.

My Higher Power has sent me many teachers since my first baby steps in sobriety. My friends in AA provided me with my first words of wisdom. My wife, children, and other relatives and friends guided me on my return to perfection. God even put obstacles in my path so that I could learn from the experiences. He/She continues to give me pop quizzes to see if I have really learned the lessons. I was even able to sit down with my parents and resolve my issues with them. Before they passed on,, I was able to work through my anger to allow love and forgiveness to return.

My dog, Bear, also provides me with wisdom. Each morning as part of my routine, I play ball with Bear. Bear probably would have been an alcoholic had he been human. He has a great obsession with chasing this ball. Even after one of our 6 mile hikes, as soon as we return home he is dropping the ball at my feet. Anyway, Bear loves to catch the ball on the first bounce. He jumps high into the air to catch the ball. Maybe one out of ten times he is successful. The point is, it doesn’t matter to Bear whether he is successful in catching the ball or not, he just enjoys chasing that ball. It does not affect who he is, he just goes on enjoying life.

I chase my ball each day as well. It is the way I choose to live life. Perfection has taken on a new meaning to me. The old saying, “God doesn’t make any junk” or “God’s not through with me yet” takes on new meaning. Today I achieve perfection by reminding myself of the Steps and working them on a daily basis. I know with confidence that this “Power, greater than ourselves” is restoring me to sanity. I can admit when I am wrong and seek forgiveness from others. I have the ability to forgive others when I am wronged. He/She removes my shortcomings and provides me with those pop quizzes to see how I am progressing. I forgive myself and get back on track. I no longer beat myself up for what I previously believed were failures. What I once perceived as failures are those times when I miss the ball on the first bounce. I can still have fun chasing the ball. In other words, I can still live life with a passion.

I can ensure that I never say those things that caused me so much pain to others. Instead of tearing others down, I can build them up. I am allowed to practice the Eleventh and Twelfth Steps. Through prayer and mediation I gain the knowledge of His/Her will for my life. My spiritual awakening allows me to practice these principles in all my affairs and give back to this wonderful world I live in.

The phrases that used to govern my self-image are now only phantoms of the past. Their energy is gone and no longer identifies who I am. I am successful in all that I do because there is no such thing as failure.

I know that in many cases, I am preaching to the choir. You have learned these lessons as you trudged the road of happy destiny. I think I am glad I went through what I went through to get to where I am today because I might not have otherwise learned these important lessons about living.

I would like to share with you a prayer I often refer to:

My child, the love of God soothes me and quiets my soul:

“My child I love you with an everlasting love. Know that I am with you always guiding you and making your way safe. There is no place you can ever go where I am not there with you.

“My child, I am here for you through every challenge of life. Give Me your worries and fears. Accept my peace, for it is a peace that passes all understanding. I give it to you freely and completely.

“Let me guide you, and I will show you a world filled with more blessings than you could ever imagine. Believe in Me child, for I have always believed in you.”

Thanks for letting me share!!!

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WHAT I’VE LEARNED ABOUT LOVE

This paper is a long time coming. In fact it has probably taken me most of my lifetime to find a definition of love that fits me.

I have been in and out of relationships for a lifetime. I thought I knew what it meant when I said, “I love you!”. But I did not. I started to learn about love after reading Eric Butterworth’s book entitled, “Life is for Loving”. Mr. Butterworth suggests that love is not a noun nor an object. Love is a verb and perhaps should mean, “I’m loving you.” See the difference. Again from Butterworth’s book, he says, “Modern psychology has misled people with its insistence that ‘the greatest need of man is to be loved’. We have been taught to think of love as a commodity rather than a divine process.”

So much of my life I have seen love in my relationships as, “What’s in it for me!” I may have thought I knew what love was but in reality it was all about me. “Take care of me, give me sex, cook for me, take care of me!” What I was really looking for was a caretaker. Maybe that is why I have been married five times. And maybe that is why I am able to talk about love and what it really means for me.

That all changed when my late wife Danielle got sick and we spent the last seven weeks of our lives together at home. For the first time I did not see caring for her as an obligation. I saw it as an opportunity to “be loving!” I was given the gift of caring for her every need and in return I found the gift of listening. The conversations two people have as one approaches death’s door is unique and gratifying. Everything two people ever wanted to say or ask is a gift. We become as one as we see that “loving” is the verb that brings us closer together.

As Danielle sat on the couch one day in those last couple of weeks of her life and her exact words were, “Ray, when I’m gone I want you to find another woman!”

How could I even consider such an idea, The woman I loved was sitting across from me. I told her that was an impossiblity. She then said, “Ray, if you don’t, I’ll come back and find one for you.”

On Christmas Eve 2022 the love of my life passed through that door we call death. But I know in my heart of hearts that is not the end. Danielle and I spoke often of what we believed was on the other side of that door. We saw it as wonderful and magnificent. Danielle went through that door and found out for herself what she and I had talked about so often. She entered through that door fearlessly and satisfied her curiosity about what is on the otherside. And I was able to be loving as I felt only joy in her passing.

It wasn’t long after her passing that I had that magical moment where Danielle’s words of finding another woman came true. I think somehow Danielle had a hand in what followed. I met Diann standing in line at Starbuck’s. The look that passed between us has never left us. I paid for her hot chocolate and invited her to join me with my coffee. We spent 2 ½ hours talking before we parted company. The rest is history. We were married on August 16th, 2024.

Since that magical day at Starbucks, I have had the opportunity to embrace the idea of loving another person. After first meeting we would talk (and listen) to each other sometimes for hours at a time and several times a day over the phone. Since being married, we still spend time every morning reading and talking together. There is something incredibly sexy about listening to Diann give her opinions and thoughts on something we have just read or in talking and listening to our past lives along with being in the moment and listening to her wisdom.

For the first time in my life I no longer have secrets because I have become so transparent as I speak of those secrets in my life because I truly trust Diann. We have both bared our souls and today a freedom exists that I have never known before. And for the first time in my life, and I really mean this, I feel loved. Loved for who I am not for who I think I must be to prove myself to another.

I have learned much about myself. My need to control, my ability to forgive. I am now aware of when I am trying to control and when I have the need to prove myself right over nonsensical issues. Diann and I talk about these things and we make the changes we see we need to make. I have learned when to speak and when to bite my tongue. With the two of us respecting each other and talking about anything, we have never had a fight or non-respectful disagreement. Peace rather than chaos reigns in our relationship.

Recently I was in the hospital with pneumonia (Legionairre’s Disease). First time in my life in a hospital overnight. Diann came multiple times a day and just sat with me. I had done the same with her when she had been in the hospital. Not out of a sense of obligation but because that is what loving Diann is all about.

We travel so well together. Whether a long road trip, a cruise, or by train, we enjoy being together. No words need to be spoken to feel the oneness between us. Other times it seems as if the miles slip by as we talk and listen to each other.

On one of our trips we had a list of questions to ask each other based on a couple’s game we had purchased. It was a list of questions to ask each other to get to know each other better. The questions were across the board and even included some questions about sex. Interestingly, we found that we knew exactly how we would answer each other’s question.

Today we do almost everything together but leave space for ourselves. We support and encourage each other’s endeavors. We are kind, caring and compassionate and we are at peace. More peaceful than we have ever been. The mutual respect we have for each other defies definition.

We learned together the meaning of loving ourselves first and finding the uniqueness and self-worth in ourselves. We have studied together and enjoyed the growth we see in one another. We don’t have to work at our relationship, we have learned to live in the moment and everything good seems to fall into place. I no longer say “I love you” as much as I say “I’m loving you!”

I waited a lifetime for love to come my way in such a easy fashion. But I also spent a lifetime learning what love is and what it is not. The time I have left on this planet is filled with peace and loving.

It has taken a lifetime but I will never trade what I have with Diann. What we have together is perfect.

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OVERCOMING MY FEAR

What do chocolate and the Fourth Step have in common? Maybe nothing. On the other hand, they may have a great deal in common.

Recently, I took a continuing education class from the University of New Mexico. It was a three hour, evening class, entitled “Extreme Chocolate”. I was indulging my interest in cooking and in particular, trying to learn how to make a Red Chile Mole recipe. I also learned lots about chocolate in general, and I participated in making Chocolate Mousse, Truffles, and Mexican Hot Chocolate. In New Mexico, these would all be considered necessary tools for survival.

You may be asking yourself about now, what does all this have to do with the Fourth Step? Allow me to explain.

Most of my life was spent in fear. Fear of how I would fit in, fear of the unknown, fear of raising my hand to ask a question, fear of rejection, and fear of what would others think. I was filled with fear.

Being a law enforcement officer, I confronted danger on a regular basis and did so by confronting fear successfully on a regular basis. I didn’t back away from confrontation of fear of the unknown when entering a building to search for a suspect. The fears associated with my job in law enforcement were lessened because I had been trained to deal with dangerous situations.

My first AA and POF meeting was on a Thursday night in Eagle Rock, California. Following that meeting, I had the thought that if I did what these people told me, I could achieve sobriety. My plan was to attend these meetings every Thursday night. But there was a problem. On Sunday night, I wanted a drink in the worst way. I knew I would drink again unless I did something about it. I now know how Bill W. felt when he thought he would start drinking again and he reached out for help. I was an infant in AA and was not sure how to proceed. I did not know of any POF meetings, but I remembered there was an Alano Club in town I had found when working patrol. I took a chance and went to the club. The meeting was scheduled to begin only a few minutes after I arrived. There were only 5 of us and I was in a suit, having just come from church. The other 4 were dressed in motorcycle leathers and I immediately stereotyped them as motorcycle gang types. I had been in a shooting involving a motorcycle gang a few years earlier, so my fear level was intensified. I thought about leaving but was afraid what the others would think.

I sat in that meeting frozen in fear. I was asked to read something but don’t remember today what it was. I just knew I was in the wrong place and sat frozen in fear. As the meeting continued and these men started to share, I found that I was really no different from them. I was suffering from the same disease. We shared a common denominator, and that was we all had succumbed to the long term effects of alcohol. My fear was dissolving.

By the end of the meeting, I had not only briefly shared, but I had told them of being a cop. They had a good laugh over that and joked that we had all probably met somewhere before. Going to that meeting was the best experience in the world for me. It introduced me to the real world of Alcoholics Anonymous and, to this day, I have never feared entering a meeting I have not been to before.

The next step in my sobriety was to work the Steps. It took me almost six months before I could work that Fourth Step. I was afraid to look at my past in the mirror being held to my face. But I finished that Step after much prayer and contemplation. I did it as fearlessly as I could and then followed up with the Fifth and Sixth Steps.

The results were amazing. Most of my fears were gone. I was able to step out into the world in freedom. I was no longer enslaved by my fears. Today I fit in because I am me, and some people seem to like me the way I am. I know I do. I raise my hands and ask those questions that prove to the instructors that there really are stupid questions, but I don’t care, I get my answers. And, finally, I can walk into a room of 15 women and take a cooking class about chocolate.

Today, I walk a life, filled with fun, freedom, respect for myself, but best of all, I walk fearlessly through my life.

Hope this may be of some help to you.

Thanks for letting me share!!!

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MY HEROES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN COWBOYS

“My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys,” is a reminder of some of my childhood heroes. Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, Lash La Rue, Gene Autry, Annie Oakley, Wild Bill Hickock, and The Lone Ranger and Tonto, served as examples of how I wanted to live my life. Honor, integrity, and respect were exemplified by the way these cowboys lived their life. These heroes were very real to me and I strived to live the perfection they portrayed on the screen. They each lived by the Cowboy Code. One example was Gene Autry’s Cowboy Code:

  1. A cowboy never takes unfair advantage – even of his enemy.
    1. A cowboy never betrays a trust. He never goes back on his word.
  2. A cowboy always tells the truth.
  3. A cowboy is kind and gentle to small children, old folks, and animals.
  4. A cowboy is free from racial and religious intolerance.
  5. A cowboy is always helpful when someone is in trouble.
  6. A cowboy is always a good worker.
  7. A cowboy respects womanhood, his parents and his nation’s laws.
  8. A cowboy is clean about his person in thought, word, and deed.
  9. A cowboy is a patriot.

(If you are interested in reading the other cowboy rules for life, just run “The Cowboy Code” in your Internet search engine and they all pop up.)

Life was simple, there were the good guys and the bad guys, good versus evil, and the guy with the white hat always won because he was an honorable person and that allowed him to overcome the dishonorable acts and deeds of the villain.

As kids, my friends and I would take on the identity of our favorite cowboys or cowgirls as we played in the world of make believe. Nobody ever wanted to be the bad guy, in our world of cowboys and Indians only the good guys were portrayed.

As I grew out of childhood and into an adult, I think many of the lessons learned from these childhood idols continued to mold me into the person I became. I think it also played a role in my self image when I was unable to live up to the cowboy code. I know that I broke every one of the rules of the cowboy codes and I beat myself up for being a failure.

On the other hand, when I drank, I could fool myself into believing what a great and wonderful person I had been. Those after shift get-togethers with my fellow cops allowed me to believe the lies I told myself. It was a tough world and I was the big gun in town. I was protecting people from the sinister deeds of the guys in the black hats. Looking back at it, I was probably one of those cowboys who spent most of their time sitting around the saloon in the middle of the day.
When my life was held in the balance and God was showing me the way out, the miracle happened. A support group was born that would shape the way I lived the rest of my life. A new set of heroes emerged that helped me through my new code for living. A set of 12 simple Steps that gave me a new way to live. My new heroes walked with me and taught me the meaning of the words, honor, respect and integrity. Deena R., Bob D., John H., Marty W., Ed S., Janice R., Butch R., and countless others too numerous to mention, became the heroes and icons I wanted to emulate.

Today I look for progress not perfection and I have learned how to forgive myself when I fail to live up to the Cowboy Code or the Twelve Steps. Today I am perfectly imperfect.

If you have not yet found this wonderful way to live. If you want to find the peace that comes with this style of living, find a sponsor and learn how to work the Twelve Steps. Find your heroes in this simple program and inherit life once again.

Thanks for letting me share!!!