The Forgotten Mountain
p. 100
When I was a child, I acquired some of the traits that had a lot to do
with my insatiable craving for alcohol. I was brought up in a little
town in Vermont, under the shadow of Mount Aeolus. An early
recollection is that of looking up at this vast and mysterious
mountain, wondering what it meant and whether I could ever climb
that high. But I was presently distracted by my aunt who, as a
fourth-birthday present, made me a plate of fudge. For the next
thirty-five years I pursued the fudge of life and quite forgot about the
mountain.
<< << << >> >> >>
When self-indulgence is less than ruinous, we have a milder word for
it. We call it “taking our comfort.”
1. A.A. Comes Of Age, pp. 52-53
2. 12 & 12, p. 67
When I was a child, I acquired some of the traits that had a lot to do
with my insatiable craving for alcohol. I was brought up in a little
town in Vermont, under the shadow of Mount Aeolus. An early
recollection is that of looking up at this vast and mysterious
mountain, wondering what it meant and whether I could ever climb
that high. But I was presently distracted by my aunt who, as a
fourth-birthday present, made me a plate of fudge. For the next
thirty-five years I pursued the fudge of life and quite forgot about the
mountain.
<< << << >> >> >>
When self-indulgence is less than ruinous, we have a milder word for
it. We call it “taking our comfort.”
1. A.A. Comes Of Age, pp. 52-53
2. 12 & 12, p. 67
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