A drunk learns how 'to live all over again'
LAURA TESTER
Herald-Tribune staff 
Gerry wore no scruffy trench coat with a mickey of rum tucked inside his
pocket. 
He thought that's what a typical drunk looked like. 
Little did he realize that for more than 20 years he was one himself. 
Now as he stood confidently before a Friday luncheon crowd dressed in a
navy blue business suit, he acknowledged he was still an alcoholic. 
"Today I am a drunk and today I don't have to drink," said Gerry, his
voice unwavering. "That's a significant thing in my life. I didn't always
look this good." 
Gerry, who continues to attend Alcoholic Anonymous meetings after 22 years
of sobriety, spoke of years of anguish during a talk before clergy, health
professionals, and other invited guests at AA's 40th annual Grande Prairie
& District Roundup. 
With candour, Gerry said it wasn't the life he had imagined it would be.
After graduating from the Grade 12 class of '57, he had dreams of becoming
an engineer.
"And the world was going to become a better place because of me," said the
Saskatchewan resident. 
Gerry went on to college and saw two roommates later become success
stories. One became the head of a top-rate company while the other is a
heart specialist. 
"And me? I became a drunk and that wasn't the plan," Gerry said. 
"To pay for the booze, I taught school. I was able to function for about
15 years as a drunk in the classroom - and I didn't enjoy it. An alcoholic
doesn't want to be an alcoholic most of the time." 
He always set out just to have a good time. 
But somewhere along the line, he ended up making a fool of himself and
woke up in the morning hating himself. 
But if anyone asked him how he was doing in life, Gerry smiled from ear to
ear. Inside though, he was writhing with self-contempt. 
Fortunately, he stumbled into a situation where he was brought
face-to-face with reality. Somehow his wife took him along to a
ministerial association-hosted session on alcoholism, a taboo subject back
home. 
"One of the speakers that afternoon went through the profile of an
alcoholic and the progression that a typical alcoholic goes through -
increased tolerance to hold alcohol, for instance." 
As the symptoms worsen, alcoholics can lose close relationships and get in
trouble with police. 
"And the end result is skid row or being institutionalized or dead," he
said. "It's a continuum all the way down." 
Gerry recalled recognizing some of the symptoms in his own life. But he
thought it wasn't that bad. Then the speaker levelled him: "The symptoms
that an alcoholic goes through are very similar to the sign posts on the
highway. In the sense, you can be pretty sure you will continue down that
path." 
He made a decision to get off the path of self-destruction. On Jan. 10,
1977, he vowed to quit drinking and six days later, he attended his first
AA meeting. 
"And I absolutely hated it," he said. "I did not want to be an alcoholic
and I didn't want to have anything to do with these losers. It turned out
it was the very best thing that happened to me." 
Eventually he was able to raise his head during the meetings. Six weeks
later, he admitted he was an alcoholic before the supportive group. 
"You deny it for some 20 years and the words don't come out - that 'A'
word," he said. 
"I had looked around the room trying to figure out who was the
psychologist. But everyone there was an alcoholic." 
When Gerry sobered up, he was 39 but he felt 13. 
"I had to learn how to dance sober, how to say I love you sober ... and
it's tough. It's like starting over and that's what Alcoholics Anonymous
does. 
"It allows you the opportunity to learn how to live all over again." 
Gerry credits AA for getting him back on his feet. It doesn't supply the
motivation for someone who doesn't plan on quitting the bottle, he said. 
"They'll spend the amount of time and energy with someone who does," he
said. 
Alcoholics Anonymous, which holds open and closed meetings in Grande
Prairie, is a self-sufficient organization that's established in 141
countries. 
It's not associated with any particular religion but "God is mentioned an
awful lot," Gerry said. 
And like Gerry, who didn't want his last name used, anonymity goes with
the territory of being in AA. 
"It provides a newcomer with a safe haven," Gerry said. 
"He can come to Alcoholics Anonymous and be assured that he won't be
paraded in front of the whole world and it keeps the big egos of those who
have been sober for awhile from getting out of hand."