September 14 in A.A. History

In 1943, an unnamed A.A. member in Chicago wrote the text for “Out of the Fog” [right: cover], which is still available as a pamphlet from the Chicago General Service Office. It begins:

    Thirteen months ago I was in an interesting position. No, Murgatroyd, I wasn’t an expectant mother. Had I been, I would have know what to do. I’d merely have written a piece for True Confessions Magazine and thereby earned the necessary $50.00.
    This interesting and delicate position of mine, however, was at least pregnant with chaotic confusion. Mine was mainly a confusion in terms—and that, by a carefully arranged coincidence, enables me to drag in a cute saying by my younger son, Jerrold, better known as Jaybo. He was 6 years old at the time and consequently pure of mind, but I have confidence in your ability to enrich the story with the dirtiest possible construction on his remark.

In 1954, [John] Mark Whalon [left, delivering mail], 70, Bill W.’s oldest, closest, and only local friend, died. As Bill was being born, nine-year-old Mark was among a crowd of neighborhood boys gathered on the porch to listen to Emily’s screams, evidence of the strangeness of the adult world.

    He had worked as a mailman in rural Vermont driving 24 miles a day to deliver mail to 80 homes, six days a week.He wrote two books. Rural Peace, published in 1933, is a collection of poems reflecting on the carefree moments, hardships, stark realities, and difficult truths of daily life in East Dorset. Rural Free Delivery: Recollections of a Rural Mailman [right], published in 1942, is an autobiography detailing his experiences growing up and living in East Dorset.