The Loot, The Lift and The Lover

During my four decades of recovery, I’ve worked with hundreds of young men who are enthusiastic and excited about recovery. For them, everything is new and life has taken on a different meaning. They are going to meetings regularly; they are working with their sponsors and the wreckage from their past is slowly getting repaired. But alas, they seem to hit three common roadblocks which sends them spiraling back down the path whence they came. I refer to these three roadblocks as: The Loot, The Lift and The Lover.

Making Apple Strudel

We have the 12 Steps and the 12 Traditions on which volumes of material have been written. Yet, a common theme running through the steps and traditions is this idea of principles. But what are these principles and from where do they come?

An excerpt from The Cathedral Crusader published February 28, 1979.

Author’s Note: This article was published nine-months after I got clean and sober. My high school newspaper asked me to write a story about going through treatment. I was glad to do so. The published story set off alarm bells with the school administrators and it led to changes in school policy toward drug and alcohol use.

Thanksgiving weekend 2019 brought 17 inches of heavy wet snow to northwestern Wisconsin, a special place where our family cabin sits, on the Minerva chain of lakes. As I looked out into the yard this past Sunday morning, I was startled by the sight of our many pine trees – white, blue spruce, and jack pine, all sagging towards earth with heavily burdened branches carrying the weight of nature’s winter storm. Concerned these trees might topple or at least suffer the damage of broken branches, I donned Sorel boots, jacket, hat and gloves and set out intent to remove some of the 17 inches of ice crystals these trees of ours were carrying.

While we are all hunkered down and sheltering in place, we thought some good old fashion humor might lift your spirits. Here are some humorous thoughts from one of our blog contributors – Maj. Donovan, U.S. Army, Ret.

I’m writing this on a morning in March when the news media is full of coronavirus, or Covid-19 stories. Today’s Star-Tribune newspaper reports that the Costco store near The Retreat is out of toilet paper and won’t have any more for five days. They are also out of hand sanitizer, plastic gloves, and bleach wipes. The food aisles are decimated, as well, with non-perishables in short supply. It isn’t a full and complete panic, but it is certainly a lot of anxiety for a state that has no known cases of the virus.

I was 18 years old and three years sober. Ever since I went through treatment in the summer of 1978, all I wanted to do was to be a counselor. My counselor had saved my life and all I wanted to do was to become a counselor so I could save lives too. I could think of no higher calling or more worthwhile work. So, I applied for a Counselor Training Program.

Step One of Alcoholics Anonymous tells me that I am powerless over alcohol when I drink it. Step One of Al-Anon tells me that I am powerless over alcohol when other people drink it, or when other people want to drink it. Both treatment programs, and The Retreat (which is not a treatment program) are powerless over alcohol and addiction when the people in them want to drink.