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01-01-2007, 08:43 AM
What My Son Saw
An Alateen’s perspective
The Alateen speaker, a young teen named Jon, described his life in the chaotic household of his alcoholic single mother. I listened raptly. I had looked forward to hearing Jon and had driven many miles to this conference in a foreign country. From Juneau, Alaska, the trip to Skagway is several hours by ferry. The road from there to the border parallels the Yukon gold miner’s trail over the Chilkoot mountain pass and is often closed by snow. I had phoned the Alaska State Troopers frequently during May and learned the road would be open but still icy and covered with snow in spots. I wanted to hear Jon speak, so I packed my car and bought the ferry ticket. After crossing the border, the drive wound through muskeg still covered with snow, but I could see signs of spring. The forest — four-foot misshapen trees standing ten feet apart — was emerging from winter. I was excited about arriving in Whitehorse, with its hot springs and the AA conference.
Whitehorse lies in the high desert of the Yukon Territory, and the light dust of a hot summer-to-be greeted me, along with lots of smiling faces, warm hugs, and the promise of a great conference. My hosts led me to a bright, sunny bedroom, and I was comfortable in their hospitality and AA fellowship.
I attended all the meetings, the potlucks, the workshops, and the Al-Anon speaker’s meetings. I shared when I was called upon. The Canadians were pleased to hear from an Alaskan who had traveled such a great distance to attend their conference.
The Alateen speaker meeting was late Saturday afternoon. I took my seat in the back row. Jon began telling his story and I was amazed at the sudden pain I felt when he described waiting for his mother to pick him up after Little League practice. He was afraid of the dark and yet afraid of angering his mother if he rode home with someone else. He waited and waited and waited, and after two long hours, his mother arrived and acted as if nothing was wrong and apologized for being “just a little bit late.” I heard Jon’s voice catch and saw his eyes fill with tears and that’s when I stood to leave.
An anonymous woman I had just met was seated next to me. She took my hand, looked into my face, and told me to sit down and listen.
She said she would stay as I listened to my son tell my story through his eyes and with his pain. I felt so overwhelmed that this son of mine had endured a home life with a mother physically or emotionally absent much of the time. He spoke of finding me “sleeping” next to the toilet (I had passed out), unavailable all day Saturday as I nursed the Friday night damage, and being gone many weeknights as I stopped to “visit my friends” on my way home from work. He also remembered the meals prepared by his nine-year-old brother when I couldn’t make it home early enough to cook. I was shocked at hearing my child so abused, and devastated when I internalized, and then accepted, that I was the cause of his abuse.
But the hand of God, through loving AA members, was there to comfort me. I cried my way through Jon’s talk and through the remaining meetings.
On the long drive and ferry ride back to Juneau, Jon and I talked about those “bad old days” and I was able to start my amends with my son. That was in 1976, when I had been sober for barely a year. Today, he and I have an adult relationship and see each other as often as an old Alaskan and Oregonian can get together. He is married and has worked for the same company for almost twenty years. Jon is a well-adjusted, stable member of society and a social drinker. He is also the son of a recovered alcoholic who still looks forward to hearing him speak.
Marcia B., Sitka, Alaska
http://www.aagrapevine.org/gv/article1.php
An Alateen’s perspective
The Alateen speaker, a young teen named Jon, described his life in the chaotic household of his alcoholic single mother. I listened raptly. I had looked forward to hearing Jon and had driven many miles to this conference in a foreign country. From Juneau, Alaska, the trip to Skagway is several hours by ferry. The road from there to the border parallels the Yukon gold miner’s trail over the Chilkoot mountain pass and is often closed by snow. I had phoned the Alaska State Troopers frequently during May and learned the road would be open but still icy and covered with snow in spots. I wanted to hear Jon speak, so I packed my car and bought the ferry ticket. After crossing the border, the drive wound through muskeg still covered with snow, but I could see signs of spring. The forest — four-foot misshapen trees standing ten feet apart — was emerging from winter. I was excited about arriving in Whitehorse, with its hot springs and the AA conference.
Whitehorse lies in the high desert of the Yukon Territory, and the light dust of a hot summer-to-be greeted me, along with lots of smiling faces, warm hugs, and the promise of a great conference. My hosts led me to a bright, sunny bedroom, and I was comfortable in their hospitality and AA fellowship.
I attended all the meetings, the potlucks, the workshops, and the Al-Anon speaker’s meetings. I shared when I was called upon. The Canadians were pleased to hear from an Alaskan who had traveled such a great distance to attend their conference.
The Alateen speaker meeting was late Saturday afternoon. I took my seat in the back row. Jon began telling his story and I was amazed at the sudden pain I felt when he described waiting for his mother to pick him up after Little League practice. He was afraid of the dark and yet afraid of angering his mother if he rode home with someone else. He waited and waited and waited, and after two long hours, his mother arrived and acted as if nothing was wrong and apologized for being “just a little bit late.” I heard Jon’s voice catch and saw his eyes fill with tears and that’s when I stood to leave.
An anonymous woman I had just met was seated next to me. She took my hand, looked into my face, and told me to sit down and listen.
She said she would stay as I listened to my son tell my story through his eyes and with his pain. I felt so overwhelmed that this son of mine had endured a home life with a mother physically or emotionally absent much of the time. He spoke of finding me “sleeping” next to the toilet (I had passed out), unavailable all day Saturday as I nursed the Friday night damage, and being gone many weeknights as I stopped to “visit my friends” on my way home from work. He also remembered the meals prepared by his nine-year-old brother when I couldn’t make it home early enough to cook. I was shocked at hearing my child so abused, and devastated when I internalized, and then accepted, that I was the cause of his abuse.
But the hand of God, through loving AA members, was there to comfort me. I cried my way through Jon’s talk and through the remaining meetings.
On the long drive and ferry ride back to Juneau, Jon and I talked about those “bad old days” and I was able to start my amends with my son. That was in 1976, when I had been sober for barely a year. Today, he and I have an adult relationship and see each other as often as an old Alaskan and Oregonian can get together. He is married and has worked for the same company for almost twenty years. Jon is a well-adjusted, stable member of society and a social drinker. He is also the son of a recovered alcoholic who still looks forward to hearing him speak.
Marcia B., Sitka, Alaska
http://www.aagrapevine.org/gv/article1.php