Peace Officers Fellowship


The last time I had a drink? To be honest, I don’t remember exactly. I know the day started out with me playing in a softball tournament. It was the kind of tournament where you take a beer out to your defensive position, you set it back a ways and try not to let a ball get by you to avoid it being knocked over. If you booted one, and the beer spilled, no big deal. There was a designated runner who would run a fresh one out to you.
Once the tournament was over, the team retired to a local establishment owned by one of our players. I remember being there for some time, enjoying myself as the night wore on. I’m not sure what time I had that last beer, what time I decided to leave or when I got into my car. I was a binge drinker and a blackout drinker, and that night I lost track of a few hours’ worth of time and frivolity. I do remember being pulled over by the police and hauled off to jail. Adrenaline has a way of bringing you out of a haze and back to reality.
My life was already in shambles: a failed relationship, financial problems and an administrative investigation from a prior alcohol incident that had me relieved of duty. The new caper, I figured, was just the final nail in my coffin. On that day in June 1997, I knew I was in for some changes. Job? Gone. Home? Gone. Driver’s license? Gone. Reputation? Long gone.
The next day, my first day sober, I was out of answers, so I made a phone call. That call led me to my first Peace Officer’s Fellowship meeting. I was right about the changes. I was wrong about the nature of those changes. Instead of ruin, the changes led me to a new freedom and continuous sobriety. So here I am, 20 years later, unable to recall what that last drink tasted like, but sure about the taste of freedom that came the next day, and every day thereafter.