bryan jones

Last night at the meeting a fellow came in from San Jose to tell us his story. D. related to us how his father started getting him drunk when he was seven years old. His father thought is was funny to watch him stumble around. The rest of his story followed a pattern. Boys school, getting busted for being drunk on duty in the navy, and repeated arrest for drunk driving. The judge told him, "Some day you are going to kill somebody." In 1982 coming home from Reno, Nevada someday came. He woke up in a hospital and was told that he had killed a young man and the young mans infant son in a head-on collision just outside of Carson City.

"Just outside of Carson City a young man and his son killed by a drunk driver in a head-on collision." This was twenty-five years ago but the story was hauntingly familiar. I tried to remember. In '82 I would have been twenty-six. Could it be the same story? There are things that stick in your memory and you never forget where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news. I remember that night clearly. The phone hanging on the kitchen wall rang and I answered it. The woman asked for Carla, the young lady I was living with at the time. It sounded like bad news. Women often seem to say "Oh, no!" and "Oh my god!", so I didn't think much about it. When Carla hung up she told me her brother Bryan Jones and his only son had been killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision just out side of Carson City."

Just a coincidence I told myself. Route 395 is a very busy highway. Lots of people have been killed there over the years. Just the same I planned to ask the speaker about it after the meeting. I didn't have to wait.

In AA they stress the importance of making amends for the harm you have caused. D. went on to tell us that the hardest thing he had to do was to face the young man's wife, Mrs. Jones, and tell her he was sorry. He was not able to do this until many years after the accident.

Bryan was just twenty-three, the youngest of six children. The product of a rough childhood he had a reputation for going out to bars and getting into fights. Then he met Rose. He settled down, straightened up and got a good job. He was commuting two hours to work and back everyday. He wanted to do the right thing for his wife and child. His family was very proud of him. His mother was overjoyed that she finally had a grandchild.

The memories flooded back. His death had devastated his family. The grief and anger and sadness of that time welled up within me. I started crying. Around the room other people were talking and laughing. I wanted to scream. I was shaking. They did not understand the terrible consequences of this man actions.

In AA we often hear about how people have ruined their lives and the lives of others. But it is hard grasp the reality of what is being said. The stories get repetitive and begin to seem like so many words, detached from any substance. We blanket ourselves in numbness to keep from facing the ugliness of our own lives.

When I got the chance to speak I let D. and the others in the room know how this man's life had affected mine. I was angry. I was sad. I was upset. Mostly I was ashamed of myself for ever getting behind the wheel drunk. After the meeting D. came up to me looking for forgiveness. I offered him my hand and he held on to it. There was a look of desperation in his eyes. Forgiveness is not mine to give.

I thanked him for telling his story.

OWL

Oct. 18, 2007