LOTS OF LOVE AND A LOT LESS DRUG ADDICTION

For months, friends of Carmelita Witherspoon have been looking for a way to
thank her for the years she has spent helping people escape the bondage of
alcohol and drug abuse. But Witherspoon, 62, just can't understand what the
fuss is all about.

The latest plans call for a Mother's Day fundraiser next year at Lincoln
Theatre, which is near Ben's Chili Bowl, the popular U Street NW restaurant
where Witherspoon was working in 1960 when, at 20, she met a customer who
turned her on to heroin.

Her triumph over addiction, which lasted 15 long, hard years, and her
subsequent devotion to others in trouble, has led many in the Washington
area to call her the "Mother of Recovery."

For some, however, a nice name is not enough.

"I met Carmelita 12 years ago, and she was very instrumental in helping me
get clean," said Arthur Ashby, a hairstylist in Washington. "To see her now
in a nursing home, waiting to be served by nurses on Thanksgiving Day,
reminds me of how we tend to give our loved ones flowers after they are
gone instead of while they can appreciate them."

In her room at the Washington Center for Aging Services, Witherspoon spends
much of the day making collages for friends. Most of them feature
photographs of people celebrating years of sobriety.

"I used to think men, money and jobs were the only important things in
life," Witherspoon said. "Today, I have no money. I made some bad decisions
about my retirement funds. But I'm okay with that now. I've had bypass
surgery, and I'm a diabetic. My body is starting to give out. But I'm safe
here. And l have a purpose in life. I believe it is to help people."

Helping her is what Ashby and Calvin Woodland Jr., an aide to D.C. Council
member Jim Graham (D-Ward 1), and others have in mind.

"This is not a bleeding heart thing, and we're not asking people to go kiss
her feet," Ashby said. "It's just that she has helped a lot of us move on
to better lives. So all I'm saying is, why not thank her by giving a little
something back?"

Witherspoon, the second of seven children, grew up in rural Croom. She said
she always felt odd as a child because, "I liked to play in dirt and tear
up my clothes." She recalled being punished often for her tomboyish ways:
"For a long time, I felt my mother hated me."

Witherspoon graduated from high school in Prince George's County and spent
a year at Morgan State in Baltimore before going to work at Ben's Chili Bowl.

"One day this guy walks in and says, 'Hi, baby,' and I guess that was all I
needed," she recalled. "By the time I found out he was a heroin addict, I
felt I was in love. I remember one night telling him that I was feeling
down and he offered me a hit. Seven days later, I was hooked."

Witherspoon's life became a descent into shame and isolation until one
"horrible night when the drugs didn't work and I knew I had to do something."

She entered a 24-month treatment program called Last Renaissance. She spent
the first eight hours there seated before a sign that read, "Don't blow
this chance." She didn't. After completing the program, she began working
and volunteering at addiction treatment centers. A few years later, she was
named chief drug and alcohol counselor at the veterans hospital in the
District.

In 1976, Witherspoon helped start the first Narcotics Anonymous group in
Washington and began inviting women to her home for "recovery retreats."

She is known for speaking from the heart.

"There came a day when I understood how much my mother really cared about
me, and I was able to make amends," Witherspoon said. "Out of seven kids, I
was the one with our parents when they died. That's when I knew I had been
forgiven and that I could forgive myself."

Witherspoon became teary-eyed when told that plans for a tribute to her
were moving forward. "I keep telling Arthur to stop it," she said. "People
don't have to remember me."

Ashby said: "It's hard for her to accept credit for benevolent deeds
because she lives by the rule of unconditional love. But if I have to, I'll
twist her arm and make her let us give thanks."