The price of greatness is responsibility ~ Winston Churchill
In November of ‘99, I relocated to Fort Myers. I knew nothing about my new city and spent the next few months exploring and figuring the place out. It should be noted that one of the first things I did was find the AA meetings…that was a no brainer.
I found the YANA (an acronym for You Are Never Alone) clubhouse and started showing up there. While at YANA I met Ross Porter, who looked like a slightly heavier version of Ernest Hemingway. His tagline was, “I’m powerless over people, places, things and situations.”
When Ross recounted his drinking and his life when he finally hit bottom, instead of relating the overwhelming feelings loneliness, shame, and remorse (in other words…the stuff we all go through) he merely described his life as, “Porter, party of one.”
He had a particular way of putting things (he never referred to it as a bar. It was always a tavern.) that killed me. Ross came from Rockford, Illinois, and spoke of it often. He was retired from Proctor & Gamble, where (in his own words) he drove around the Midwest, selling Tide detergent to supermarkets.
He had a straight-forward brand of sobriety that was more interested in truth than diplomacy. I liked that. We got to know each other and became friends. Since I was sponsorless at the time, it wasn’t long before Ross picked up that mantle. If he asked me a question, and I wasn’t sure if he’d like the answer, I’d preface my response with, “Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or would you prefer the truth?””
ANYWAY,
I was still new to Fort Myers and learning my way around. I had an appointment in a different part of town. As I was looking for the address, I missed my turnoff. My big strategy was to double back and take a U-turn at the next intersection.
I got in the left turn lane and pulled up behind a battered old station wagon covered in bumper stickers.
As I waited for my green left arrow, I found myself fixating on the crap plastered all over the faded, rusting car: ‘This car climbed Mount Washington’; ‘Honk if you know Bill W’; ’‘Proud parent of a Lee County Stockade Honor Inmate’; ‘I love cats, they taste like chicken’ …and about a hundred other dubious things.
Frankly, it doesn’t take much to distract me (a shiny object will do it) and as a result, I missed the sign prohibiting U-turns. When we finally got a green arrow, the wagon took a U-turn, I took a U-turn, and one of Fort Myers finest was lying in wait for motorists committing such a faux pas.
I ended up with a charming love letter demanding payment to Lee County to the tune of one hundred and sixty-nine bucks.
I was griping to Ross about it.
He patiently listened to my tirade: “What a gyp! I’ll tell you what, I’m going to court and challenge that crap! Those pirates aren’t getting dime one from me!”
He finally spoke up,
” Good for you. I’m impressed you have the time to do that. But before you do anything, let me ask you a question. Did you make that turn?”
I shrugged, “You know I did.”
“Was there a sign saying not to?”
I could see where this was going, “Hey, hey, hey – that’s not fair! I was distracted by some skanky car in front of me with a thousand bumper stickers, and that’s not fair! It was a small sign, and that’s not fair! It was blatant entrapment, and that’s not fair! And the fine doesn’t fit the crime, and that’s not fair!”
Unmoved by my well thought-out, and cohesive legal argument, Ross just shook his head,
“You weren’t paying attention, you screwed up, and you got pinched. Man up and pay the damn thing…and stop giving everyone a pain in the ass about it.”
My first thought was, ‘Everyone? Who’s everyone? Who’s complaining about my complaining?’
…But damn it, I knew he was right.
After hearing myself say it out loud, I realized my argument wouldn’t hold up too well in court. There was nothing left to do but suck it up and pay the stupid thing.
As I wrote out the check, instead of listing the ticket number on the memo line, I found myself wanting to put, “You suck”.
I resisted the urge. It’s usually not a good idea to antagonize the authorities.
That little episode was well over twenty years ago.
I’ve had a clean driving record since…until a few days ago, when I got nailed for a speeding ticket to the tune of a hundred and sixty-one bucks.
Yes, I feel it wasn’t fair
Yes, I think it’s a rip-off.
Yes, it aggravates me every time I think about it.
But no, I won’t bother challenging it. I did it, I’m guilty, and it’s my own damn fault.
Ross has been gone for quite a while now. He moved to North Carolina and succumbed to a heart attack. But his legacy lives on…he rubbed off on me.
HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:
Once upon a time I used the word ‘sorry’ like toilet paper.
That’s a far cry from acknowledging, admitting and accepting responsibility for unfortunate decisions and unacceptable behavior.
I always preferred to point fingers, make excuses, do fancy footwork, and a whole ‘smoke-and-mirrors’ show to create diversions and avoid accountability.
That’s old news, and there’s no room for that kind of stuff for someone committed to a life of recovery. Work the steps long enough, I promise the day will come when you realize you’re living the steps.
No matter where I may go, what I may do, where I may live, or what I may drive, it’s vital to find my AA people. People who speak my language and get what I’m about.
Talent and tenacity are great, but there’s no substitute for being with people who love, understand, and believe in you. Although the cast may change, the play remains the same. And that’s what keeps me coming back. 