I will repay you for the years the swarming locust ate… Joel 2:25

My eldest son, David, sent me an e-mail on my birthday and asked me to publish it. Actually, he insisted. If you are suffering from an addiction, I hope you will read it and be encouraged. Please give recovery a chance. If I could do it, you can do it.

Here is David’s letter with my reply.

Hi Dad - I don't know when your cutoff for submissions is, but I have a testimonial/letter to the editor for One Day at a Time to propose for your consideration. I hope you like it.

Love, David.

A Special Letter to the Editor

A son's birthday wish.....

My Dad turns 81 next week. At an age when many are content to sit back in quiet retirement, he works out in the gym several hours a day, attends church and Bible study classes weekly, writes articles and book reviews and, if that is not enough, owns and manages a small but growing business committed to helping those who have lost most everything, including hope.

People will often call or write to thank him for enriching, even saving, their lives or the lives of a loved one —  literally. I can think of no greater reward in life than hearing those words. He is passionate in his work and, despite his age, unwavering. But it has not always been so, and his story has been an inspiration to many, but most of all, to me.

Some 30 plus years ago, I had been anxiously awaiting wired funds from Dad to be put towards a property we were buying together with my brother. When it didn't arrive, I called him and was surprised to hear a woman answer the phone (he and my mom had divorced).

When I asked to speak to my Dad, she told me, “ He can't speak right now.” When I expressed my sense of urgency, she hesitated, then offered, “Right now he's very sick and passed out from drinking a bottle of vodka. We're friends from A.A. He called us and we're here to help him. I'll tell him you called” and then she hung up.

I remember the long silence, then the sense of helplessness and loss. I thought of my mom who struggled with the fallout of his alcoholism and their divorce, mired in the depths of her own depression. My parents were lost in an unending cycle of pain, and I felt helpless to do anything. I was scared and feeling “homeless” in the truest sense of the word.

My Dad had hit the proverbial “bottom,” and we were all there with him, each feeling desperately alone and without hope. And while I didn't feel it at the time, the healing in our family had, with that bottoming, begun.

My Dad has shared his journey of recovery on these pages in the past so I won't repeat them. I will only add that he and my mom are now happily remarried — to each other, enjoying their kitten “Luke,” and that I was able to build a beautiful home on that property of 30 plus years ago in Hawaii, where they visit me every year.

And after a lifelong struggle for a meaningful career, my Dad now owns a newspaper called One Day at a Time whose mission is “presenting a message of hope and recovery to a nation in need”  — a job he truly loves. My Dad is, of course this paper's Editor and Publisher, David Palmer, and I am very proud to be his son.

Happy birthday pops, I love you, David P.

A father’s gratitude.....

Dear David: This is the best letter I’ve ever received from anyone.

I would have given anything not to have caused my family so much pain. I didn’t mean to, and I am so grateful for your understanding and forgiveness. I think the night you refer to was April 9, 1979. It was indeed my last drink and my bottom.

God gave me the chance to make amends for some of the damage I caused, and nothing has brought me more joy than being able to help you realize your Hawaii dream and be a part of it. I really love the photo of you and me and mom on the scuba diving boat in our diving gear yukking it up. We were beginning to look like a happy family again.

We do enjoy our little kitten, Luke. We found him, an apparent stray, on Christmas Eve. Mom swept him up in the pelting rain at one of our busiest intersections where he sat, all 15 ounces of him and soaking wet, as the traffic bore down on him. Ten minutes later the vet across the street gave him some shots and mom brought him home and introduced us. We don’t really know where he came from, but he is such a joy, we think God sent him.

You are such a fine and admirable man, and mom and I pray constantly for your happiness. We are grateful that Emily loves you and that you love her. She is very kind and thoughtful to us, and we couldn’t be more pleased that she is in your life.

I have to have cataracts removed in March and so we are thinking that we would schedule our trip to Hawaii for the Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Years time of year. How does that sound?

I love you, David. Thank you! You’re the best!

Dad

Late last year, I received a touching and gratifying letter from Cory W. at Tucker prison. It read, in part…

“Hello, my name is Cory. I am 27 years old, and I am incarcerated for possession of methamphetamine. I have been in prison for about two and a half years and nothing compares to the priceless inspiration I receive from reading your newspaper, One Day at a Time.