I did it. I successfully deep fried a 23lb turkey without
burning a house down. It took some measuring, a dry turkey, and some patience
while dropping it into the vessel. It was glorious, and the result was a
fantastic, crispy-skinned bird that had a nutty sweetness to it unlike a
traditional turkey. I made some black garlic mashed potatoes, glazed Brussels
sprouts, and played around with a charcuterie board. Overall it was a great
afternoon with some wonderful neighbors and our nuclear family.
I did miss my monthly opportunity to bring a meeting to the
McLeod County jail, but there are many important factors that swayed my
decision to stay put. There will be many more 4th Thursday’s of the
month, and I will be sure to get there as often as I can because, well, it
makes me feel really good when I walk out of there. Not just because I’m
entering and leaving a jail without handcuffs, but because of what I glean from
those incarcerated men and women. They have a perspective on recovery that I can
relate to, and I can truly say that I understand what they are currently going
through. Every time I go, there are different people there which always makes
me wonder where the last batch went. I assume some have gone to prison, some back
home, and maybe some have stayed sober, and probably some have not. But I can
tell you that when a person is locked up, they speak a lot of truths about
themselves that probably would remain hidden under a canopy of addiction. When
there’s nowhere to go, people tend to let more out. When people are at the end
of a road that got them arrested, and willing enough to go to an A.A. meeting
with a stranger, they somehow feel comfortable letting things out that they
have been holding onto, and with that torrent comes the flood, and then a
glimmer of hope and happiness.
I remember the first time I felt hope in a long time, a long
time ago now. It was at an A.A. meeting in prison, and I was with a group—obviously—of
guys that were hardened criminals, had lost everything, had no connections to
their families, etc. The moderator, who was a volunteer, said he had been in
the same boat years earlier, and felt hopeless. He said there was nothing he
thought he could ever do to lead a normal life, and that he wanted to stay
locked up forever. But he didn’t. He kept going to meetings, worked up the
courage to write letters, reconnected with his family, and so it began: life. I
listened in awe. My story was not identical, but there were certainly things I thought
impossible, and things I didn’t think I could have or do. I wondered what I could accomplish. So I decided not to be lazy, and commit to going through the boot camp program. And I never gave up.
And here I am, five years later, with everything I need, a
lot of what I want, and a willingness to help others do the same. That’s the
message I want people in these jail meetings to hear. With a lot of hard work,
all is possible.
That’s my short story of the day, it’s time to go make
dinner for these two little girls, and wait for my wife to walk through the
door of our home.
Fuck yeah.
