I really needed to talk to someone who would
understand an alcoholic who was turning a bit raggedy
around the travel-worn edges.
That was on my mind as the dugout canoe
in which I was riding made its way across
the crocodile-infested waters to the town of
Agats in Irian Jaya.
The canoe pulled up to shore,
and I waded across the squishy mudflats,
gratefully heading for dry land.
It had been arranged that I would stay with
some missionaries there in the village.
Several hours later, I found myself in the dining room,
having supper with them.
I gradually grew drowsy in the equatorial heat.
But all of a sudden, one of my table mates said,
"as we say, easy does it . . . "
A shock ran through me. . .
I asked, "You wouldn't be a friend of Bill's, would you?"
Grinning, he nodded.
That evening, in a bamboo home on stilts
above the tidal waters of the Arafura Sea,
James and I had a meeting, accompanied by the
rhythmic drumming of the Asmat people
who were celebrating a local feast.

Thought to Ponder....

When anyone, anywhere, reaches out for help,
I want the hand of AA always to be there.
And for that: I am responsible.

Recovery Related Acronym

A A = Adventurers Anonymous.