To those of us who knew Dan |
Rest in peace Dan, you are loved and will be missed. TB |
My prayers too, for Dan, Gabe, Dan's mom and kids. Dan helped my son once. He will be remembered. |
I never knew Dan but I'm always sad when this *thing* takes someone else. Prayers for Dan and his family and all who knew him. D |
OMG, DD! rest in peace danny you were always a good friend my deepest condolences to molly, the family, the SM family, and all the hearts and souls that danny has touched... |
thanks for posting that. I was just thinking about him and Gabe the other day. It'd been a a couple years since, I'd last talked to Dan. :( |
I dont know Dan either, But my thoughts are with everyone. |
It's been years since I talked to Dan too. We had our differences, but at one time we were good friends. My heart goes out to his children during this difficult time, and also to Molly. |
Dan was a very special person to me. We connected from the first second our paths crossed. He was a true friend. I miss you so much buddy... |
i didn't know dan but it saddens me to hear of his passing. my heart goes out to everyone who is suffering this loss. |
Today I am reminded that its a short time here and I need to practice the spiritual principles I have been given every day. |
Prayers for ccomfort going out to all who love Dan. :yup: |
Prayers for Dan's family. I know he's in a good place now. |
In Memory of Dan Quote: For years in AA, I was haunted by the thought of all the alcoholics who lived and died before there was an AA to come to—the absolute hopelessness of their condition. Whenever I would speak at meetings, I'd want to talk about it, but I never did, because I was afraid I'd break down into uncontrollable weeping. When I got serious about writing poetry, one of my first inspirations was that poetry might be a way to say some of the things I had been wanting to say for so long. In the writing of this poem, a strange thing happened. I sat down to write about all the people who died before there was an AA, but almost all of the examples are my contemporaries, people I knew or knew of who died before they got the program. The guy who died of pneumonia in a furnished room was a man named Dennis Mc. (no relation) who bought me breakfast the first Sunday morning of my sobriety. The one who died under the Southeast Expressway with his hands tied behind him was an ex-boxer named Tony Veranis whose brother was in the fourth grade with me. I didn't know the man who took his family with him; he was from the Westwood Group and he had a slip—it may have been his first night of drinking. Ernest Hemingway, Dylan Thomas, and John Berryman also find their way in. When I finished this poem, I thought, "This may be the poem I was born to write." I've written a lot of poems since, but I've never had that feeling again. I have often read this poem at meetings, and when I do, I usually bring copies, because people usually ask for them. A few years ago, through those copies, the poem started showing up on the Internet. I just did a Google search on the first line and found that it shows up in thirteen places, including websites in Arabia and Jerusalem. It's very gratifying that that many people want to publish it. Of course I've never made a nickel from it, and I wouldn't want to. Feel free to read the poem to any audience any time. But if you should give out a printed copy or an email, please make sure my name is on it. If the poem survives, I'm not humble enough yet to want it to be as "by Anonymous." DRUNKS for my father, and the people who almost saved his life We died of pneumonia in furnished rooms where they found us three days later when somebody complained about the smell we died against bridge abutments and nobody knew if it was suicide and we probably didn't know either except in the sense that it was always suicide we died in hospitals our stomachs huge, distended and there was nothing they could do we died in cells never knowing whether we were guilty or not. We went to priests they gave us pledges they told us to pray they told us to go and sin no more, but go we tried and we died we died of overdoses we died in bed (but usually not the Big Bed) we died in straitjackets in the DTs seeing God knows what creeping skittering slithering shuffling things And you know what the worst thing was? The worst thing was that nobody ever believed how hard we tried We went to doctors and they gave us stuff to take that would make us sick when we drank on the principle of so crazy, it just might work, I guess or maybe they just shook their heads and sent us places like Dropkick Murphy's and when we got out we were hooked on paraldehyde or maybe we lied to the doctors and they told us not to drink so much just drink like me and we tried and we died we drowned in our own vomit or choked on it our broken jaws wired shut we died playing Russian roulette and people thought we'd lost but we knew better we died under the hoofs of horses under the wheels of vehicles under the knives and bootheels of our brother drunks we died in shame And you know what was even worse? was that we couldn't believe it ourselves that we had tried we figured we just thought we tried and we died believing that we didn't know what it meant to try When we were desperate enough or hopeful or deluded or embattled enough to go for help we went to people with letters after their names and prayed that they might have read the right books that had the right words in them never suspecting the terrifying truth that the right words, as simple as they were had not been written yet We died falling off girders on high buildings because of course ironworkers drink of course they do we died with a shotgun in our mouth or jumping off a bridge and everybody knew it was suicide we died under the Southeast Expressway with our hands tied behind us and a bullet in the back of our head because this time the people that we disappointed were the wrong people we died in convulsions, or of "insult to the brain" we died incontinent, and in disgrace, abandoned if we were women, we died degraded, because women have so much more to live up to we tried and we died and nobody cried And the very worst thing was that for every one of us that died there were another hundred of us, or another thousand who wished that we could die who went to sleep praying we would not have to wake up because what we were enduring was intolerable and we knew in our hearts it wasn't ever gonna change One day in a hospital room in New York City one of us had what the books call a transforming spiritual experience and he said to himself I've got it (no you haven't you've only got part of it) and I have to share it (now you've ALMOST got it) and he kept trying to give it away but we couldn't hear it the transmission line wasn't open yet we tried to hear it we tried and we died we died of one last cigarette the comfort of its glowing in the dark we passed out and the bed caught fire they said we suffocated before our body burned they said we never felt a thing that was the best way maybe that we died except sometimes we took our family with us And the man in New York was so sure he had it he tried to love us into sobriety but that didn't work either, love confuses drunks and he tried and still we died one after another we got his hopes up and we broke his heart because that's what we do And the worst thing was that every time we thought we knew what the worst thing was something happened that was worse Until a day came in a hotel lobby and it wasn't in Rome, or Jerusalem, or Mecca or even Dublin, or South Boston it was in Akron, Ohio, for Christ's sake a day came when the man said I have to find a drunk because I need him as much as he needs me (NOW you've got it) and the transmission line after all those years was open the transmission line was open And now we don't go to priests and we don't go to doctors and people with letters after their names we come to people who have been there we come to each other and we try and we don't have to die ©—Jack Mc |
Well, It has been four years since Dangerous Dan died. I still miss you everyday bro. And I still promise carry a message of recovery with all the compassion and humor you did no matter how far I fall short. I'm falling short far less these days and I hope you are proud of me. |
Well, It's been 5 years since this disease took Dangerous Dan from us. I still miss you so much bro. Countless times I've needed the kind of laugh that you provided so effortlessly. ( :lmao <--Dan's favorite smilie) I'm still sober and you had a lot to do with that. Remembering you today my friend. |
i can still hear that laugh! |
Originally Posted by Rusty Zipper
(Post 5397310)
i can still hear that laugh! You could not hear that laugh and be in a bad mood... |
Dan made my catchy Mooselips avatar...still have it, still use it, in memory of Dangerous Dan. I miss ya kiddo... Til we meet again....:) |
Well we are about a month and a half out from the 7 years since we lost Dan. Still miss him every day. But I honor him each day by staying sober, and I know he's proud of me for that. Quick aside. I sponsored an episode of the recovered podcast to honor Dan. Each episode has a discussion topic. I made the donation and sat back and waited to see what this week's topic would be and if Dan would have liked it. A bolt of joy hit me when I saw the topic: "Recovery and the digital age" Yeah if you know Dan's back story, that bolt just hit you as well. Miss you bro! |
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