Made A Decision

               We repeat what we don't repair.

Why Me?

        Newcomers to A.A. often say how baffled they became when

they found themselves unable to stop drinking. This is especially

true of those who managed on their own to stay sober for a week,

month, or even years, and then picked up again.

 "Why?” “Why?” “Why?” they cry.

But the answer isn't complicated. We drank because we are

alcoholics. Every pleasure centre in our brains lights up like

the dashboard of a giant Boeing 747-400 when our brains

get a hit of alcohol. 

Non-alcoholics don't get that kind of a hit from our drug

of choice. They might get a nice buzz, but we get

skyrockets in flight!

We also drank because early in our drinking days we

discovered we could self-medicate with booze to block out

those pesky “feelings,” like fear, anxiety, frustration,

isolation, dependence, and over-sensitivity. 

And we drank to allow free rein for our impulsiveness,

defiance and grandiosity.

Drinking worked for us on many levels, so naturally, we

drank. And alcohol worked for most of us on all these

levels for years and years. 

And then, it didn't. 

That's because ours is a progressive terminal illness

that relentlessly over time goes from bad to worse.

For anyone interested in the science behind this, there

is a ton of it available in books and online. But it mainly

boils down to our alcoholic brains being wired

differently, it's that mental illness part of our physical,

mental and spiritual illness in action as described

in our A.A. literature.

Early in my own recovery I read that there are three

stages of alcoholic  progression. The first takes roughly

20 years, unless we boost the booze with other

mind-altering chemicals and then  it can take far less.

During those 20 years we look pretty much like most

heavy drinkers, but toward the end of that time it all

starts getting - and looking - a lot worse. 

The second stage is shorter, usually no more than five or

six years. That's when our livers start giving up the fight

when it can't process our intake any more. In this stage

we no longer get hangovers, we suffer bouts of alcoholic

poisoning. But I still called mine hangovers when the

poisoning hit, because I didn't have another word for what

was going on with my body ... other than terror.

The final stage of our disease is when our liver, or brain, or

both (along with other important inner bits) can't take the

abuse we've been giving it and finally pack it in. When it's

the brain that gives up we can experience delirium tremens,

imaginary situations as if they are real. These can often be

horrific visions, but one of my best friends (and one-time

drinking buddy) became terrified when she saw tiny

muppet-like demons running around her house.

Following the DTs there can be a total loss of our mental

facilities and permanent residency in a little rubber room

(wearing adult diapers), all down to a neurological

condition commonly known in A.A. as "wet brain."

Other joys in the final phase include (but are not limited

to) agitation; anxiety; screaming headaches; shaking;

nausea; vomiting; disorientation; seizures; insomnia;

high blood pressure; tactile, auditory, and visual

hallucinations (more delirium tremens); fever; excessive

sweating; and finally, isolation and loneliness lived in a

skeletal body beneath a poisoned liver’s swollen gut,

followed by the relief of suicide or a very, very ugly

alcoholic death.

Alcohol is absolutely an equal opportunity destroyer. I've

witnessed final stage alcoholism when responding to calls

for help made from sufferers in both the ghetto and in

gated communities. 

The DRUG ethanol, found in all our alcoholic "beverages"

- from beer to those pretty fruity rum drinks - is a killer.

It's found in wine, from rot-gut cheap to the most expensive

Domaine de la Romanee-Conti. It's really a good idea

for anyone in recovery to never forget that.

Hollywood has given us many scenes of drug addicts

climbing the walls, screaming and pulling their hair out

during withdrawal, but death from that kind of drug

withdrawal isn't usual. Alcoholics, on the other hand,

were often found dead during morning checks in those

"drunk tanks" (jail cells) used to house drunks during

A.A.'s formative years.

Our disease wants to kill us in the ways described, but

it isn't fussy. When we're drunk we feel invincible,

so our disease can take us out in a variety of ways. It will

use automobile accidents, falls from balconies, tumbles

down stairs, domestic violence, drowning, suicide, or

even just a staggering fall to the floor causing  our spleens

to bleed out. (One of my dearest A.A. friends drank again

after ten sober years and died that way.)

But now - the good news: 

While the elevator of our disease descends faster and faster

toward the end, we don't have to reach the stage where

the bottom drops out to hurtle us downward to our death.

We can get off at any floor - and then go upward again

via the staircase. Twelve steps up will get us to safety.

If we drank and drugged for years it will take time to

build back a better life for ourselves, but we will find

companionship, encouragement, love, and a blueprint

for living a sober life at our very first A.A. meeting. 

As my friend Lloyd E. said in a meeting recently: 

I went to my first meeting as a hopeless drunk and I left

there as a drunk with hope.

Recovery and hope are there for us if we want it. A.A. offers us

our way out. It lets us give our disease two fingers up. *

Daily working the steps of recovery, prayers and meditation,

talking with our sponsors, studying our literature, all take

us to a better quality of life. It works best when we

embrace everything A.A. has to offer.

And our meetings are our ongoing first-aid - our medicine. If

you doubt it, start watching the faces of your friends in

recovery when they arrive at a meeting wearing stressed

or angry faces. Watch as their expressions change over

the length of the meeting, first smiles, then even laughter.

By meetings-end everyone leaves relaxed and filled

with renewed hope. Medicated! 

Ours is a chronic, terminal illness. Many cancers are, too.

Likewise kidney disease, diabetes, and so many others.

But we don't have to have painful chemotherapy, or dialysis,

or daily jabs of insulin. All we have to do is get our ass to

a meeting for our medicine to kick in and get us through

another sober day. 

It doesn't matter if you don't feel like it, if you don't want

to go, if you don't like some other members of your group,

if you're depressed, if meetings have become boring,

if you can't be bothered ... stop giving yourself excuses

and just go!

"Sometimes my Higher Power needs to have skin on it,”

someone in a recent meeting of mine said. Mine does, too.

While I have many lovely moments of silent communion

with the God of my understanding, I only actually hear

God's direct messages to me when they are spoken by

other A.A. members, usually during a meeting.  

When recovering alcoholics drift away from meetings

they risk drinking again. That's a fact. And for us, to

drink means to court a fate worse than death -

or death itself.

* (If a British friend gestures two inward facing fingers at you, you’ve just been told to fuck off).

 

Made A Decision

                                                     PASS IT ON

A.A. is more than a set of principles; it is a society of alcoholics in action. We must carry the message, else we ourselves can wither and those who haven't been given the truth may die. (Book: As Bill Sees It)

We stay sober by giving our sobriety away to others. I was taught that in the early days of my recovery and I have done my best to "carry the message" one way or another ever since. I was made afraid not to, because the old timers who were around when I got sober were very hard core about it. 

At that time A.A.'s Responsibility Pledge was read at almost every meeting. It was the topic of many meetings, too. A good long-term-sobriety friend of mine recently told me he always gets a lump in his throat today whenever he hears it. Me, too. Here it is: 

I am responsible. When anyone, anywhere, reaches out for help, I want the hand of A.A. always to be there. And for that: I am responsible.

Because there were so few women sober in my A.A. community in 1981 I was dragged along on every 12-step call involving a woman who reached out to A.A. I'd get a call from a sober male member and be told to be ready at such and such a time so we could go talk in person to the woman who had called the A.A. hotline. 

I hated it, too, but no other options were given. And now, all these years later, I'm grateful for those opportunities I was given, whether I wanted them then or not. I got to see "our" disease in its latter stages up close and personal and I've never forgotten the heartbreak of it. Late stage alcoholics experience a fear, loneliness, self-loathing and bewilderment no one should have to suffer. 

The "hand of A.A." can pull those sufferers out of that nightmare. We are obligated to reach out to them, just as those in A.A. reached out to us when we got here. They certainly did for me!

I, like so many newcomers, was a right royal pain in the ass when I arrived in A.A. Angry, opinionated, stubborn, self-centred and arrogant were just a few of the adjectives then applicable to me. Group members and my sponsor put up with all of it, guiding me up the steps onto the pathway to a joyful sober life and hanging onto me so I'd stay on it. I am grateful beyond words for each and every one of them. And I try always to remember their patience with me when I lashed out at them. As I did. A lot! I was told to just "keep coming back," and was then given more service work to do so that I would!

As Bill W said: Honesty with ourselves and others gets us sober, but it is tolerance that keeps us that way. 

Our A.A. literature tells us over and over that we MUST give away our sobriety to the still suffering alcoholic to stay sober ourselves. Absolutely nothing can relieve our depression and self-centeredness as effectively as reaching out to another alcoholic. We help them and, in so doing, help ourselves. Doubt me? Try it!

Meetings are not eight hour sessions. Most of them are a mere one hour long. We can sit through an hour even when we're tired, or feeling unwell-ish, especially in a Zoom meeting, because our presence there is enough to encourage others. We don't even have to talk. We go to our meetings whether we "feel" like going or not. We go to help the people in those meetings and, in doing, we help ourselves. 

We're told often in recovery that it's not all about us! Our first step in A.A. doesn't say "I" - it says "WE." We admitted we were powerless over alcohol! 

All the prayer and meditation in the world will not help us unless they are accompanied by action. A.A. is a program for all of us. It takes a team effort to keep us all sober. Mary Z, my first sponsor, sponsored me into many service opportunities, including sponsoring others. She told me that once I had gone through all 12 steps with her I was better qualified to sponsor a newcomer than she was, because my memory of the nightmare drinking they were now escaping was fresher than hers. 

 So I sponsored others early in my own recovery and it kept me sober. I made mistakes of course, some sponsees drank again, some took advantage of me, I got frustrated, I worried, I felt inadequate, but I did it. And I'm glad I did it, because - with practice - I got better at it. We all do. We learn by doing-the-doing, not by thinking! 

A.A. wisdom says people must ask us to sponsor them, and generally that's true. But I have occasionally been known to reach out to people who didn't ask me first with an offer to sponsor them. Not often, but every now and then, when I felt it was needed. I’ve also been known to play cupid when my HP gives me nudge that one person would be a great sponsor for another in my orbit. As our promises tell us, "we will intuitively know" about many things. I think this has been one of those areas for me.

All of us have something to offer A.A. and finding where our talents can best be used is part of our recovery. We don't do everything. And we don't let ourselves burn out and cop resentments. We just do what we can, where we can, and we encourage others to do the same. Service work includes doing all those things that make a meeting happen - from unlocking the meeting room door to cleaning up afterwards. We chair, share, and hold office. In Zoom meetings we open early, greet arrivals and shut down afterwards. 

We hold positions outside of our home group, too, like phone service where we are available for specific blocks of time to answer questions about recovery to those seeking information. And our home group can carry the message into treatment centers and prisons. We can leave A.A. brochures and other A.A. information in our doctor's office - or in a neighbor's mailbox. Active members of A.A. help others get to meetings, call to check on people, send emails offering an A.A. message and in general taking time to encourage one another. 

Doing all the above helps us to stay sober while we are learning to become better people. Sober living is an adventure which, compared to our grim and lonely drinking years, offers us friendship, excitement, joy and purpose. Our Big Book describes it like this: Life will take on a new meaning. To watch people recover, to see them help others, to watch loneliness vanish, to see a fellowship grow up about you, to have a host of friends - this is an experience you must not miss. We know you will not want to miss it. Frequent contact with newcomers and with each other is the bright spot of our lives.

Not being active in A.A. puts our sobriety at risk. As member Mel B. said:  Recovering from alcoholism is like getting a gunshot wound. You can recover from it, but it does NOT make you bulletproof.  Never bulletproof for sure, but we can armour ourselves by extending the hand of A.A. where needed. Service work is not hard duty, it is the doorway to happiness.

Recovery allows us the opportunity to gain spiritual understanding at our own sober pace. The learning is never over. Every sober day is brand new and there's no need to rush our One Day at a Time journey. As you know by now, I like to call it - SLOW-briety.

The instructions in our Big Book end with another throat-lumping segment:  Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of your past. Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny. May God bless you and keep you - until then.

_________________________________________________

 

Made A Decision

The teacher will appear when the student is ready.

                          Sponsorship

From our earliest days in A.A. we are advised to "get a sponsor." 

 That's because when we are new to recovery, there is a lot we don’t know. Over time we'll learn it in meetings, but we can get a jump start on all of it by working with a sponsor. 

A.A. meetings in general promote sponsorship. That's where we'll often hear things like: "I have a sponsor, and my sponsor has a sponsor, and my sponsor's sponsor has a sponsor." - or - "Anyone who thinks they can sponsor themselves has a fool for a sponsor."

We will also get praise from our fellow members when we proudly announce we have found ourselves a sponsor. 

But sponsorship, like many things in A.A., has evolved over time:

The meetings of the 1940s fostered participatory sponsorship and many newcomers were sponsored by two or more A.A. members, the sponsor and his or her apprentice(s). Early A.A.’s described this relationship as co-sponsorship. 

I recently heard a devil's advocate (almost all A.A. meetings have one of these) point out that nowhere in the first 164 pages of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous does it tell the newcomer, or any other member of A.A., to get a sponsor. 

He said in the first 88 pages of the Big Book there are only references about working with other alcoholics, specifically meaning a couple of alcoholics working together to put the A.A. program into action, as pictured below.

(I have no idea how I managed to get this very famous A.A. picture in here. So don't expect fancy high tech stuff like this in the future.) 

       But I'm not a page counter or Big Book thumper. I know what's in it, but I don't use it to try and batter people into my way of thinking. From my own reading I've come to believe a sponsor is just someone who takes on the job of walking someone through the twelve steps of recovery, answers their early question about the A.A. program itself, and then hangs around as a friend and sometimes mentor in recovery.

That's what I do as a sponsor and have done so for many years. We go through one step a month for one year, my having found that anyone - no matter how busy their lifestyle - can set aside time to take one step a month. 

When we meet, we read, discuss and spend a couple of hours doing the work, as outlined in our 12 & 12 book. And - of course - if my sponsee runs head on into a problem between our set meeting times, we will meet up to talk about how to use A.A.'s tools of recovery to resolve their situation.

At year's end we will have done all twelve steps together and they are then ready to take on the sponsoring of others. We will have also spent some time on our important A.A. Traditions.

We will  by then have become good friends who will continue to meet up on a regular basis to chat, But - while they usually still call me their sponsor - I believe my actual sponsorship duty has been fulfilled. 

Sometimes we will have not become good friends at year's end and go our separate ways. The task then is for them to find another "sponsor" (friend) among A.A.'s "winners" who is a better fit. No harm. No foul. 

I have sponsored a few people for just twelve months, some for the duration of my (or them) living in the same town or country, and one woman called me her sponsor for more than 38 years until her death in 2024. 

I've heard it said that by becoming willing to listen to a sponsor we learn to listen to someone with a higher vision than our own. And that, in turn, guides us toward learning to listen for direction from our Higher Power. If true, it's a great outcome.

My job - as I define it - is to get them working the steps of recovery in their own lives and to get them ready to sponsor others. There is always a need for sponsorship in our program and a person with a year or two of good recovery, having worked all twelve steps and become familiar with our traditions, is far more able to sponsor a raw newcomer than someone with many years of recovery.

 Old timers can easily forget the pain and anxiety often encountered in brand new sobriety. Someone who has been there more recently relates better, and therefore has a lot more to offer.

Many A.A. members view sponsorship as a long (sometimes lifetime) commitment of hands-on care. If that works for them, that's fine by me. But I think caution should always be taken to not become too dependent on a sponsor's wisdom regarding anything other than recovery from addiction. 

All a sponsor really has is more sober time than the sponsee, along with the knowledge on how they got there. No sponsor is all knowing, all seeing, all powerful. And if a sponsor starts enjoying being viewed that way - as the old song says - "there may be trouble ahead."

A pedestal is something anyone can fall from. Too much praise from a sponsee can lead to the growth of too much ego in a sponsor. An inflated ego is dangerous for anyone, but is especially so for us drunks. Some sponsors demand their sponsees contact them every single day. Maybe that's even a good idea for the first few weeks in recovery. I know it has worked for many. But I don't do it. 

I'm more comfortable when an A.A. member calls when they are confused or troubled on how to deal with a situation. And especially to call if their thoughts start to fixate on drinking! 

 A good friend of mine rightfully says, "I tell my sponsees to call me before they pick up a drink, because then I can help them head that off. If they wait and call me after they've had a drink, it's too late."

I've actually heard A.A. members say they don't make any decision about anything (medical, psychological, financial, legal, spiritual, or their relationships) without first getting advice from their sponsor. To me that's a recipe for creating co-dependent A.A. members unable to function independently in their own lives. 

It's true we are often immature when we begin our recovery journey, but even so we arrive as adults seeking at long last to grow up mentally, physically and spiritually. The sooner we can manage that - with the help of our Higher Power - the better.  

You’ll find the best way to do that in Chapter Six - Into Action - in our Big Book, especially those pages dealing with Step 11 (85-88). Taking the actions outlined there - morning, noon and night - will keep our need for constant contact with a sponsor to a minimum. 

Our goal, after all, is not dependency on another human being, but to develop our trust in the guidance of our Higher Power.

After my lovely first sponsor left me for that greater meeting on high, I asked another woman to sponsor me. We began by my again working through the steps and I eventually met up for her to hear my Fifth Step. 

I had barely begun when the shaming began. She condemned my current behavior regarding a relationship, she outlined the ways in which I "should" behave, and then - before she could stick a pitchfork into my soul and bag it as a keeper - I fired her.

I had been truly fortunate in having had a good sponsor at the onset, good enough for me to recognize this woman wasn't there to help me, but to judge me. It didn't work, because I had already been taught -  As God's people we stand on our own feet; we don't crawl before anyone. 

A sponsor is there to support us, encourage us, and inspire us - never to judge or condemn us. A sponsor will sometimes suggest we change behaviors that can hurt us, but they won't set out to make us feel bad about our choices. 

The first six women I asked to sponsor me when I arrived in A.A. turned me down. And, looking back at the me who arrived in A.A., I don't blame them. But my Higher Power knew I needed that six-pack lesson in humility - and also that the perfect sponsor was out there for me. 

I found her on the seventh try. We were a perfect fit.

 

Made A Decision

                                         Chairing a meeting

I will never forget my first time chairing a meeting. I had recently celebrated

my first A.A. anniversary, because in most meetings

then you were not allowed to chair - or do the main share - 

until you had passed that one year milestone.

Newcomers then were virtually ordered to help set up for meetings

 or clean up after, make the coffee, or empty and clean the ashtrays afterward

without tossing still lit ones into the bin to set the place

 on fire (as happened a time or two). 

Chairing a meeting was considered a high honor of service. It was

 a position to be earned and one where newcomers need not apply. 

And for a first time share we were expected to tell how the tools 

learned in A.A. had allowed us to stay sober for one full year.

I had been asked to chair my first meeting in a much larger 

meeting than my home group, but my sponsor had already 

taught me when A.A. asks you to step up, you do. I was terrified 

on that night when I sat down where about 40 members were

 sharing pre-meeting jokes and laughing heartily, but I had a topic

 in mind and when the hour struck, I called the meeting to order.

After somehow stumbling through The Preamble, How It Works, 

The Traditions and The Promises (the chair did all those readings 

in most groups then), I introduced my topic - A.A. Literature and

 why we read it. 

We A.A. dinosaurs called on people to share in those days and my

 eyes happily landed on my good friend, Bill B.

But because of my own self-involved nervousness I hadn’t actually noticed

Bill’s aura was radiating a deep dark funk.

“What about it, Bill?” I asked, cheerfully. 

Bill’s black mood rose and spread like a miasma throughout the room

 as he snarled and said, “I don’t read any of it. I don’t like reading.”

The room got very silent, and my heart sank as my mind scrambled around

searching for what to say next. I stayed a total mental wreck, 

too, but somehow got through the meeting that launched 4o-plus 

more years of chairing them. 

I no longer chair because of hearing loss, but I’ve learned a bit by 

doing the doing that might help others. First and foremost - the

Chairperson’s job is to facilitate the meeting, to start on time and 

keep it on time so everyone gets a chance to share whenever possible. 

There are exceptions to that (one being a meeting I attend and enjoy

 so much I never want it to end), but in most groups time-keeping,

 start to finish, is important.

The Chair also needs to keep order when necessary. While most

 meetings run smoothly, anything can happen and always does

 when least expected. 

I’ve been in meetings where fist fights erupted; a member was

 arrested; guns were drawn;  a coffee pot blew up (laughter

 ensued); and one where a wet drunk arrived, pitched a tantrum

 against God, threw up on the floor and finally passed out under

 a table. 

Wet drunks, by the way, do show up from time to time and I’m

 always glad when they do. They offer an up close personal view

 of what we were like when we drank - and what we’ll be like

 again if we pick up. 

So it’s a very good idea when chairing to have a contingency plan

 in mind for when a wet drunk does appear. Usually that means

 having lined up some long-time sober members beforehand to

 coax (or otherwise) the drunk into another room for a quiet chat

 while the meeting continues.

An A.A. friend told me recently he’d spent a good bit of time over the years

chatting with drunk men in the kitchen away from the meeting.

I’ve done the same with drunk women, even once having to convince

 one to take the cat home she had brought with her to the meeting.

Every chairperson brings their own personality and skills to that job.

Practice helps us find our feet and gives us the confidence needed to

 do a great job chairing - or in any A.A. service position.

None of the following suggestions are carved in stone. I’m only offering

what has worked for me and for many others: 

(1) Be prepared. Become familiar with how the group opens and

 closes its meetings. If readers are needed, line them up before the

meeting starts. Start on time.

(2) If it is a topic meeting, have a topic in mind and briefly introduce

 it, including your reason for selecting it.

            Topics can be any of the Steps or Traditions, an A.A. Slogan; 

the courage to change; our A.A.Toolbox; developing faith; gratitude; 

why we do service, or any topic that helps members think about

 how they are - or can - use A.A. to keep sober. 

            Be creative when picking a topic. One of the best meetings

 I’ve ever been to was on “Self-Seeking Will Slip Away,” and one

 of the most interesting was on the subject of death and how 

developing faith can help overcome our fear of it. 

 (3)  There are times when we have to ask a person to finish up

 talking and times when we need to let them talk.

        We learn the difference between the two by paying attention

 to what each person shares and not by focusing on what we are 

going to say next.

           It’s important to learn the difference between when a 

person is just happily nattering on - or - is in crisis, needing 

desperately to vent. When there is need, we let them, and we

 don’t interrupt until they are done.

              But often a member just falls in love with the sound of

 their own voice and chatters on and on. The chair finally has to

 nudge them with the reminder others need their turn to share. 

              A good rule of thumb is to keep an eye on the clock 

and be ready to speak up when they go on for more than 

four minutes.

              

              This is not easy to do, especially since some of the worst

offenders are often oldtimers, but it is important that everyone

 shares if they wish to whenever possible .

(4)  The Chair gives all the members space to digest what a

 Person has said without commenting themselves between 

speakers, other than with a basic “thank you,” or “I got a lot 

from that,” or a similar brief phrase.

             This can feel uncomfortable, because there are 

sometimes a few moments of silence between speakers,

 but we don’t need to fill it unless it goes on for more than

 a minute. At that point we can remind everyone - with a smile - 

of our power to call on them if necessary. 

             And we never, ever, cross talk after someone has

 shared by telling them what they “should” do about any 

situation. We don’t “should on” our members. (No one,

 especially us alcoholics, likes being “should on.”)

           If we have something pertinent to offer we can say

 something like, “I once had a similar problem and my 

sponsor told me to pray about it and it worked because …,”

 but we keep it brief.

          Or we ask them to stay for a minute or two after the

 meeting (this includes zoom meetings) and offer them our

thoughts then. 

          This applies to those not chairing, too. This is not cross

 talk. This is the heart of A.A. recovery, one sober alcoholic

 sharing with another what has worked to help keep them sober.

(5)  When a meeting is very large it can be helpful ten minutes

 before meeting’s end to ask if anyone really needs to share

 anything bothering them. 

            If no one jumps in, it’s the perfect time to remind everyone

 of the time and the need to keep comments brief so as many

 people can share as possible.

(6) Two or three minutes before the scheduled end of the 

meeting, the chair thanks everyone for a lovely meeting, begins

 the final readings and ends by inviting “those who wish” to join 

them in the group’s closing prayer. 

We all know some meetings are just better than others, meaning 

we leave them feeling good and often with new recovery ideas

 to apply in our own lives. These meetings are usually stuffed

 with humor, A.A. basics, and they are well chaired. 

There are also meetings that don’t offer us much, where people

continually moan about their problems while rejecting recovery

solutions; there is cross talk; members talk at length and say

 virtually nothing helpful, and where we leave glad that meeting 

is over. These meetings are not well chaired.

Chairing is important. Chairing is one of the best ways we can serve

 our home group or pitch in at another group when needed.

The chairperson sets the tone for an entire meeting. 

Despite any challenges it may give us, chairing a meeting is 

also - and far and away more often than not - a whole lot of fun.