Is the F-word undermining participation in Alcoholics Anonymous?

Dee C., 50 years sober and a longtime member of the Empire Way group, certainly thinks so. "Empire Way is still pretty clean, but that´s not true of a lot of other places," Dee said. "I was at a meeting at a church in the north end once when this newcomer came over and sat down beside me. ´Maybe you can help me find an answer to my [drinking] problem,´ she said to me. She had tried A.A. before , but was disgusted with the language. I don´t know if she ever got help.

"We´re supposed to be tolerant, and I am, to a point. I´m not a prude, but the bad language in meetings is hurting our program. One time, I happened to drive by the Pass It On building (at 17801 First Ave. S.) and thought it looked good, so I went in. From then on, all it was was the F-word and GD this and GD that. I couldn´t take it. There was a young kid talking about having a two-year-old at home. I thought, is that the kind of language that child hears at home? When I left, there was a guy outside smoking, and I asked him what had happened to A.A. He told me it´s free speech. I haven´t been back."

Angus L., who participated in this interview, commented that "I go to Pass It On. I don´t understand why, but women with five to eight years of sobriety are the worst offenders.". Dee said her son, who was a high school counselor, told her that "that´s society now." But she isn´t accepting it.

"It was the same thing when I went to a meeting at the Shanty on Elliott Avenue. I said I couldn´t learn anything from those people. And then the same thing at an oldtimers´ meeting at St.Paul´s Church. This woman talked for, it must have been half an hour, with the F word and GD this and GD that, over and over. I thought, this is the last time I come to this meeting."

Dee said her beloved home group, Empire Way, is still "pretty clean." She remembers fondly the big sign that used to be on the wall, "NO PROFANITY ALLOWED HERE."

"What´s A.A. going to come to? It worries me," Dee said. But she´s still a loyal member of the fellowship, and said that will never change.

Angus L. said there´s a "good, clean meeting" at the old Riverton Hospital at 11 a.m. Sunday, sponsored by the Empire Way group.

Empire Way gave Dee a big party for her 50th A.A. birthday. It was a big deal. "They made me get up and talk, and I´m not a talker. I got a standing ovation, and then I started to cry. Lots of the members came over to kiss me. I was a little overwhelmed."

She joined this fellowship once and for all on Nov. 17, 1953. How many of our members are old enough to remember that era? Dwight Eisenhower was president, the Korean War had just ended. Gasoline was 25 cents a gallon and new cars cost $3000.

Eighty eight year old Dee grew up in suburban Portland, Oregon, during the Depression. She was subjected, she said, to constant badmouthing by her mother. "My mother professed to be a Christian, but she never showed me any affection, never touched me. We were not allowed any movies or dances. As a result, I had no self-confidence when I graduated high school. I was afraid to look for a job, but I finally got up the courage to ask a drug store owner to give me a tryout. I did okay, and then I got my first job as a waitress.

"Pretty soon, I met this guy who paid attention to me, so I married him. He taught me how to drink, and before long I couldn´t stop. He was a seaman. When he went to California, I sold my typewriter so I could follow him. My parents made me get married before I could go.

"I got pregnant down there and rode the street car to the hospital in Oakland to have my baby. That was 1937."

She brought her new baby back to Seattle and went to work in a restaurant "´til my husband decided I should go to Bellingham and live with his mother. I got a real good job in a restaurant there. The owner told me he´d fire me if I took just one drink, and when I did, I was afraid to go back to work so I took off.

"I moved back to Seattle to meet my husband. We´d been married about two years by then, and he was drinking heavily. He beat me up a lot. At one job I had, they warned me I´d be fired if I showed up with a black eye again. Finally, my husband gave me a compound fracture of the jaw. Harborview [Hospital] wired up my jaw, but I had to go to Swedish [Hospital] ´cause it got infected. I can´t eat a souffle to this day. That´s all they could feed me through those wires.

"My husband went to Walla Walla as a habitual criminal, and the first thing I did was get a divorce. I wasn´t afraid then."

Dee got another restaurant job when she got out of the hospital, but the drinking got worse and worse. One Sunday when she had the day off, it was cold in her hotel room. She yelled down the stairs to have the heat turned on. When there was no response, she wadded up the Sunday paper and set it on fire. That got the manager´s attention. After he put out the fire, he sat down and shared her fifth.

Dee managed to keep employed in the restaurant business as the years went by and the drinking got worse. Finally, in 1947, she decided to try to get sober, and went to a meeting at Empire Way. She stayed sober for a week or so, ´til a young girl she´d met asked if she could bring someone up to Dee´s apartment. Dee said "okay," and the girl showed up with a sailor and a bottle of whiskey. Dee stayed drunk for another six years, "on and off." Then, in 1953, she woke up in a hotel downtown after a seven-day drunk, so sick she couldn´t stand up.

"It was a cold November morning, and I thought to myself, ´Lord, I can´t do this. You gotta help me.´" Then she remembered a friend who had stayed in touch with her since she had tried the program six years earlier and gave her a call. On the way to her friend´s house, she had one last drink. Her friend let her rest until dark, when she got a bus home. Her son, who was 15 by this time, told her, "If I was your boss, I´d fire you." She had five different jobs in her last drinking year.

But that´s when her new life started, on Nov. 17, 1953, at Empire Way. "I still go whenever I can get a ride. I still drive, but I can´t drive at night. But I made it for my 50th birthday, I´ll tell you that. It was wonderful."

A.A. opened up a whole new world. She loved the late, lamented Big Hall on Pine Street. "It was wonderful. We had dances there every Friday night. I loved it." Seven years sober, she "saved every penny" to buy a bus ticket to the international convention in Long Beach, California. "I shook hands with Bill W. there, and Ebby and Sister Teresa. When I got back here, I told everyone at Empire Way I hadn´t washed my hands since."

She worked as a waitress at the old Turf Club for eight years. "I was walking 15 miles a day in that job, and it wrecked my legs, but I saved enough to buy a house." She still lives there, by herself. Talk about independence! Unable to work as a waitress anymore, she got a job with the city issuing restaurant permits before retiring.

In 1971, she married again, a marriage that lasted 25 years until her husband´s death. And through it all, she raised her son. "He´s the best son ever, and I don´t deserve it. He bought me a coffee pot when I first went to A.A., and then I didn´t stay sober. He was always such a good boy. That made me feel twice as bad. Innocent little kids have no choice."

Talking about this history brought tears to Dee´s eyes, but then she said with pride that she attended his graduation from high school and college, a sober mom. "I´ve forgiven myself," she said, "but I still have remorse. He blames the alcohol when I tell him how sorry I am."

Dee played a role in two signal A.A. events in Seattle She was a member of the crew that produced "Our Stories Disclose," the history of A.A. in Washington. When the international convention was here, she was one of the reservations secretaries. Every month, she takes a turn at answering phones at Intergroup.

"A.A. saved my life, "Dee said. "It gave me a whole new way of living. I´m ashamed to say that in my first meeting, I said ´If I want God, I´ll go to church.´ Now I´ve learned to trust my Higher Power instead of myself. And I go to church."

Interviewed by Angus L. and Dick S. Written by Dick S.