Lyfting Me Up

Sometime after the end of WWII, a very generous Doctor donated his three story mansion on the corner of 13th St and York, to a fledgling group of Alcoholics Anonymous. The purpose was to create a home base where alcoholics could gather to get and stay well. Nearly 78 years later its presence is felt 18 hours a day—everyday . Today I went to a memorial service there for a physician who sobered up August 16, 1987. I beat him by 15 days as my AA birthday is August 1, 1987. On the second floor of that grand old mansion, well over 100 people gathered to pay him tribute. Long ago I learned that we preach our own funeral and his honored a man of both a brilliant mind and generous heart.

Occasionally I will hear people proposing that church buildings, school buildings, and gathering places like York Street are a waste of money and take up space. Let me just say I STRONGLY DISAGREE. Yes, we can let our attachments to a place take a stranglehold on more important matters. However, when I walked up those three flights of stairs to be in that home base, the walls began to welcome me. (The cut glass window greeted me between floors two and three.)

Over the past 78 years, thousands upon thousands of hopeless alcoholics have found a way out of their misery, and yes, their disease…one day at a time at York Street. In any given day there will be 15 or more hour long meetings there. It is “The Mothership” for recovery in the West. In any given meeting there will be the highly successful Mercedes owners, sitting next to a woman who just got off of sleeping on the grates of his high rise.

Places are important. Here is a short list of places that when I enter, open the treasure trove of memories: the original lodge at Camp Jackson, Park Hill Christian Church, 1532 Alexander Circle, The Marshall Building on the old PU campus, Fellowship Hall at Central Christian in Pueblo, Horse— shoe Lodge, Alamosa and Monte Vista First Christian Church, South Broadway Christian Church—even the stairwells, and my own home after being gone seven weeks. I suspect we all have our special memory spaces.

York Street is not also legendary, it literally lives and breathes with the life blood of lives in recovery. Today I was reminded again that the only things we truly have in life are experiences and relationships. My friend who died exemplified that beyond measure.

If I can find motivation to climb 20 stairs at a Bronco game, going home to York Street and its 32 stairs are nothing… doing the 12-steps every day has made it possible.

Onward and Upward,

Mark