Its a Family Disease

I was introduced to the rooms of AA at the age of 8. My dad used to bring me along to his Sunday night meetings, and I loved it! Oh, how I loved those rooms! Somebody would usually sneak me a styrofoam cup full of sugar cubes, and I could have my snack while I listened to the speaker.
Back then, what I saw was a gathering of people from all walks of life, readily accepting anyone who walked through the doors. Even me, even though I didnt qualify as an alcoholic (yet).
What I heard was fabulous tales of biker fights, bar room brawls, jail stories and looney bins. To me, it was better than any movie I could watch on tv!
I remember thinking that an alcoholic isnt such a bad thing to be.
I somehow missed the part of the story of exactly what needs to happen for a person to qualify as one.
My perception of alcoholics was grand. Both sides of my family were inhabited by alcoholics.....and from my perspective, they were the most funny, most daring, most exciting members of the bunch. The ones who didnt drink were boring, stiff and I sure didnt want to grow up to be anything like them!
My dad joined AA when I was 7, and apparantly my mom did a really good job of sheilding me from the negative consequences of his drinking. I had no idea until I was grown that he had made his own trips to jail, suffered job losses, alienated friends and family and wreaked havok in the lives of those around him.
My beloved grandpa drank every weekend away....he was useless to my grandma, but what I saw was a grown man who was willing to shed the adult persona and allow us to play hairdresser on him. My grandma would get fed up and tell him to go to bed, and we kids would sneak in and crawl into bed with him where he would entertain us with crazy, make believe stories.
My Aunt Shirley was a chronic alcoholic....drank every day, was incapable of holding down a job and changed her men faster than the average person changes the sheets on their bed. What I saw was an amazing creative woman who I believed was an artist. She painted and sang, so I figured she didnt need a job. All the men....I saw an incredibly beautiful woman who lived like a movie star. The reality was nothing like what I saw. She died when I was 15 as a direct result of alcoholism. Her daughter hadnt spoke to her in years because she suffered unspeakable abuse by some of the men Aunt Shirley brought home.
Sometimes I wonder if I was born with a messed up perception of the world. Long before I took my first drink or drug, I was atracted to that kind of life and alcoholism didnt carry any stigma. If anything, I kind of romatisized it. I seemed to simply have a blind spot when it came to looking at any negative consequence of drinking.
I only saw the fun, the romance, the freedom from worry, or boredom.
That is, until it was time for me to qualify as an alcoholic.
Today, Im so very very thankful that my dad got sober in the rooms of AA, and that he exposed me to the solution long before I picked up my first drink.
He celebrates 33 years of sobriety next week.
AA works.