A fellow who goes to the AA meetings has started to call me for rides to Lafayette recently. How he found my unlisted phone number I have no idea. He is the only African American fellow in our group. He has lived an interesting life. He is 55 and lives with his elderly mother. He is a huge, muscular guy who probably weighs 250. He was a marine in the marine corps and got honorably discharged. He was in prison for over ten years. He has been shot several times and has shown me the bullet holes in his abdomen. He was homeless for a year and slept in an abandoned house. We have had some interesting conversations lately as I have gotten to know him.
Wednesday he called for a ride and I told him I would pick him up to ride to the meeting. I drove by and he got in the car and we headed on our way. I tend to be outspoken and I asked him straight out a question that has been on my mind.
“Did it make you feel uncomfortable being the only black man in AA here?” I asked.
He laughed and said he was glad I asked him that. He said that all the other white AA members tip toe around him and he was glad I was straight up with him about things.
“I felt uncomfortable being in a room full of white muthafuckas. I ain’t lettin no cracka keep me from stayin sober though.” He said in a good natured tone of voice. “I was tired of bein sick and tired and I was tired of bein hooked on rock (crack cocaine).”
We both laughed a good deal about the room full of white mother fuckers part and that no cracker was going to keep him from getting sober.
We drove on up to Camp Elba were the meetings are held but the gate was locked. We still had 30 minutes to pass until the meeting started.
“Take me on into Lafayette to my wife’s house. I will gives you a few bucks for gas.” He told me. “I tries to get up here everyday to check on things.”
I told him to keep his money and that I didn’t mind to drive a few extra miles. I was glad to have something to pass the time and we drove north to Lafayette.
Lafayette is an almost dead southern town of a few thousand people. The population is majority African American and the town is filled with signs of poverty. There are no jobs or industry. The big employers are the county courthouse and the county jail. Downtown is like a ghost town of closed or boarded up store fronts. Stray dogs wander the streets everywhere looking downtrodden and hungry with their tails stuck between their legs. The infrastructure of the city is falling apart and the streets are crumbling.
He gave me directions to the housing projects and I took him there. We pulled up to a really dumpy looking apartment and got out. Kids were running everywhere unsupervised and lots of people where sitting on their front porches drinking and smoking. I know what they were thinking. The only reason a white man was in the projects was to buy drugs. They were staring at me as if I was the first white man they had ever seen. I felt uncomfortable and as if a thousand eyes were studying me.
He finished what business he had with his wife and we got back in my truck to head back for our meeting. I really admired him for being able to stay sober under such situations. He is surrounded by substance abuse and poverty all day and he has been sober for over a year.
“How in the hell do you stay sober being around that kind of shit all the time?” I asked.
“You gets used to it. I have been around that bullshit all my life and you gets numb to it.” He said. “It did make it hard at first cause everyone around you is fucked up all the time and dey wants you to be fucked up too.”
“You are a better man than me.” I reflected.
“Nah I aints. You just learns to deal, you knows?” He replied.
We drove on back to Camp Elba and had a very good but small meeting. I had a new found respect for this guy. I thought to myself that living in a tent in the woods would be much easier than dealing with that crap everyday of your life. Alcoholics Anonymous has become his sanity in an otherwise insane world.
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