IN THE CURRENT MAGAZINE

I would like to share my memories of Roy K., who was perhaps second only to my father in influencing my life for the better.

The first I heard of Roy’s death was from a message on my voicemail. I felt a sudden and deep sadness to hear of his passing. For the past 25 and a half years, my life and my recovery have been interwoven with Roy’s. I was first introduced to the concept of sobriety through the SA brochure that he had written.

I first met Roy—at a distance—when I attended my first international convention in Oklahoma City in December 1985. I had about four months of sobriety back then. Someone pointed Roy out to me but I did not formally introduce myself.

I remember when I first met Roy, in 1983. He appeared nervous around me, but not nearly as nervous as I felt around him. I expected to find a number of sober women who could tell me how to stay sober. I found only a few women, and none of them had six months of sobriety in our program.

I attended my first SA meeting in 1988 at a Methodist church in Nashville, Tennessee. At the time, Roy had nine years of sexual sobriety. Back then, the definition of “old-timer” was three years of sobriety. Roy was years ahead of the “new” old-timers.

I had been in the program for several years before I finally met Roy K., although I believe we talked over the phone during those first years. I remember Roy’s passion for spreading the message, his courage, and his principles. Those qualities came through clearly in his conversations as well as his writing.

Dear Roy, More than 21 years ago I entered the program you founded, and I have wholeheartedly appreciated your dedication to us ever since. Our meeting was already using a sobriety definition clarification similar to that which years later was adopted in Cleveland. This definition made perfect sense to me.

I was at the airport and I was struggling with same-sex lust. Roy was at the airport also. He said, “Let me pray with you.” I said, “I’m struggling with that guy over there.”

In July 1985, a man loaned me a copy of an earlier version of the White Book. I read it twice in two weeks. My mind was numbed by remnants of the lust drug, and I couldn’t take in a lot of it. But what I remember is the tremendous feeling of hope I felt after decades of misery and failure.

I never had the opportunity to meet Roy personally, but I feel the same about him as what I’ve heard he said about all of us: that we are his family. I first encountered the White Book in 1985, when I was in a recovery group that met in a counseling center.