We Began to Count Noses - Silkworth.net

self-pity and resentment, realization of the fact that I had not fully given my
problems to God. I was still trying to do my own fixing.
That was more than a year ago. Since then, although circumstances are no
different, for there are still trials and hardships and hurts and disappointments
and disillusionments, self-pity and resentment are being eliminated. In this past
year I haven't been tempted once. I have no more idea of taking a drink to aid me
through a difficult period than I would if I had never drank. But I know
absolutely that the minute I close my channels with sorrow for myself, or being
hurt by, or resentful toward anyone, I am in horrible danger.
I know that my victory is none of my human doing. I know that I must keep
myself worthy of Divine help. And the glorious thing is this: I am free, I am
happy, and perhaps I am going to have the blessed opportunity of "passing it
on." I say in all reverence-Amen.” 88
Florence Rankin Kalhoun, died April 19, 1943 by her own hand.
We now return to Akron to find the final three from that town that will be
added to this list. All appear to have achieved sobriety, according to The Amos
Roster, in September of 1937 and two of the stories may inter-relate in a most
interesting way. Our 38 th devotee is Charles Simonson, whose personal story
“RIDING THE RODS”, appeared in the Original Manuscript draft of the book
Alcoholics Anonymous. He tells the story of his hospitalization and of meeting one
of the Akron number who had recently slipped after more than a year of
sobriety.
"Listen, fellow," he said, looking at me with ten times the earnestness of the
many good citizens and other well-intentioned persons who had tried their best
to help me. "Listen to me. I know a way out. I know the only answer. And I know
it works."
I stared at him in amazement. There were several mild mental cases in the place
and, little as I knew about their exhibitions of tendencies, I knew that even in a
normal conversation, strange ideas might be expected. Was this fellow perhaps a
bit balmy - a wee bit off Here was a man, an admitted alcoholic like myself,
trying to tell me he knew the remedy for my situation. I wanted to hear what he
had to suggest but made the reservation that he was probably a little "nutty." At
the same time I was ready to listen, like any drowning man, to grasp at even a
straw.
My friend smiled, he knew what I was thinking. "Yes," he continued. "Forget that
I'm here. Forget that I'm just another 'rummy.' But I had the answer once - the
only answer." He seemed to be recalling his very recent past. Looking at me
earnestly, his voice impressive in its sincerity, he went on. "For more than a year
before coming here I was a sober man, thoroughly dry.