You’ve heard of Jersey Boys, guys with Italian surnames who came from the wrong side of the tracks in the Garden State to form the singing group The Four Seasons.
Well here in the Nashville recovery community, we have a different kind of Jersey Boys, thanks to a few beloved/aggressive recruiters from Cumberland Heights.
These are recovering addicts from the rich side of the tracks, the kind of addicts who started snorting pain pills in high school and eventually took Mom and Dad’s Beemers and Range Rovers into the worst parts of Newark to cop.
Many of them – to my great delight – decide to stay in Nashville when they finish treatment.
These recovery Jersey Boys – also with mostly Italian surnames — tend to travel in a fun-lovin’ pack, rowdy and bawdy, bustin’ balls and swarming the gym or recovery meetings or NY Pie in the Nashville West shopping center. (“It’s the only decent pizza in this friggin town,” they whine.)
But don’t let the bluster of these cologne-spraying, hairy mama’s boys fool you.
Their shares in recovery meetings have the kind of insight, vulnerability and emotion that make you cry. Or make me cry, anyway (which, granted, is not that hard to do).
And get ‘em one-on-one, and these Jersey Boys are some of the most caring, loving guys I’ve met.
A couple of years ago, I met one of the latest Jersey Boys arrivals, a good looking 20-something guy I’ll call Richard (because his name is Richard).
I heard him share at a meeting while he was still in treatment, and it turns out, we both had the same painful experience when we were boys. I talked with him about that afterward, and we formed a great bond that night.
Before long, I became Richard’s sponsor.
Love this kid. He’s considerate, mellow, polite, earnest. We hung out some, did some steps, heck, he ended up living in my spare bedroom for a week or two after things got rocky at his sober living house. (Did I mention he cleaned up after himself and made his bed every day? Rare behavior for most of my past temporary recovery roomies.)
Richard even invited me along to dinner one night when his mother was visiting from – you guessed it – New Jersey.
Did I mention that I love this kid!?
After a few months, the calls got less frequent. Step work slowed dramatically. I’d see him at meetings and we’d hug and just talk briefly.
My sponsors have told me: Always let the sponsees call you. Your job is to serve them, do steps at their speed, answer their calls. Don’t chase them or pester them, and don’t give advice; just share your experience with whatever those challenges or problems are that they bring to you.
OK, OK, gotcha.
I can say emphatically that I love all the sponsees with whom I’ve ever worked.
I can also say that Richard holds a special place in my heart. It made me sad when our contacts slowed.
Then one day, seemingly out of the blue, he invited me to dinner. Uh oh. Richard had never invited me to a one-on-one dinner before. I’m getting dumped!!
We met at – you guessed it – NY Pie. It’s the only decent pizza in this friggin’ town, I’m told.
We caught up on jobs, friends, girls. And then, I couldn’t wait any longer.
Why, I asked Richard, why did you want to have dinner?
He paused, and looked genuinely pained.
So I said it for him: “You got a new sponsor.”
“How’d you know?”
“You’ve never asked me to grab dinner before.”
Richard hung his head and smiled.
“Yeah.”
Turns out that Richard, for his new sponsor, had picked – you guessed it – a fellow Jersey Boy, and one whom I love a lot.
Richard’s new sponsor, in fact, helped me get clean, and today, he is one of my best friends. So I gotta give it to Richard, he chose well.
And this blog has been a little tongue in cheek so far. But I have to cop to the fact that it stung a little to get dumped.
That’s my own stuff. I have some abandonment/rejection issues, partly from my dad dying when I was a boy, partly from other life events.
I know, I know, all sponsors are temporary, we’re only spiritual guides through the 12 steps, we’re not your banker, your taxi or even, necessarily, your friend.
But I can’t help feeling how I feel, and that stung.
Solution: I talked it over with my sponsor and with other recovery friends, prayed for Richard and his new sponsor — and that sting subsided after a few days.
I got to spend a lot of time with Richard recently when we helped a fellow recovering addict move. And I still see him often at meetings.
And he is still the sweetest, most earnest kid in the world. But today, Richard is calmer than before, and he hasn’t taken any drugs for a year.
I’m so happy to have had a front-row seat to those changes.
And regardless of whatever titles our relationship may or may not have, I have a feeling we’ll be connected for a long time.
God, grant me the serenity to accept that relationships change, in and out of recovery, and that has no reflection on my value as a human being.
Recent Comments