Published in the Grapevine Magazine, February 2026

After his wife and kids left, all he had was the bar. Now the SWAT team was at his door. Had enough?

When I was just 12, alcohol helped me cope with my misery after my father’s alcoholism took him away in a drunk driving accident. Once that door to escape into the bottle was opened a crack, I kicked it wide open in my 20s.

My drunk mother forced me into the Air Force before I got drafted and sent to Vietnam. I found serving my country a glorious venture, and the reward of drinking to my heart’s content led me further into alcoholism. After receiving an honorable discharge I was turned loose on the world, knowing my drinking was out of control.

During the next five years, I didn’t have the money to drink as I wished. I got married, and my wife and I started a family. She was watching closely, but still my drinking got worse. What started as two six-packs on the weekends became a case a day, while during the week it grew to six or eight bottles. After 13 years of this, my wife attended her one and only Al-Anon meeting, where she learned that she wasn’t the problem and that she couldn’t get me sober. Next came the divorce and I was out.

Now free of parental responsibilities, I turned to my friend, vodka. The two of us had a loving relationship, and like beer it helped me deal with the things I had no control over. This relationship grew, even though I was slow to see the love was only one way.

My final drunk started like all the rest. I spent all day in a VFW, as I had done many Saturdays before. But this time, toward the end of the evening, in and out of a gray out, I found myself in a fight with a big guy. At the time I was carrying a small gun in my pocket everywhere I went. I took it out and threatened him and everyone else at his table. The bouncer quickly disarmed me with one tackle and tossed me out to the parking lot, where I was left unconscious.

I didn’t remember anything until I woke up the next morning to the sound of knocking at the door. It was two members of the town’s SWAT team. They put me in cuffs and away to jail I went. The sergeant behind the desk explained how I was charged with assault with a deadly weapon and said I was going to jail for a long time.

After bailing out, I contacted a lawyer right away. She made a few inquiries and sat me down for the bad news. She asked me if I was guilty. “Of course” was the only answer I had. She then showed me copies of the 17 statements from witnesses that backed up my answer. There was no doubt I was going to jail. My lawyer then said what would later save my life, “Your only chance of not going away is if I can tell the judge when we go to court that you’ve been sober for a few months and attending AA meetings.” So that’s what I did. I went to meetings, I prayed for help, and God answered my prayer. On court day the judge showed mercy, and I was given a year suspended sentence with a conditional discharge.

Out of pure fear I attended AA meetings every chance I got. Some weeks it was seven meetings and others two or three times that. Once I got on this “yellow brick road,” I’ve not given in to a drink for 33 years, no matter what.

During these sober years, I’ve had many challenges which could have sent me escaping into the bottle, but God and the power I’ve found in this program has pulled me through.

I’ve learned there are three secrets to staying sober.

1) I can choose to be my own best friend or worst enemy;

2) There is a power in the universe who loves me; and

3) I don’t drink no matter what.