top of page
Rory Londer's author photo.

Rory Londer

Rory Londer felt the flip of a switch inside when he tried crack cocaine for the first time. He knew he needed more. For nearly two decades, he chased after this love. Even if it meant couch hopping, living out of motels and his car, or worse, wandering the streets.

When he was ready to turn things around, feelings of failure and shame weighed him down. He encountered people in his life who lifted him and gave him a sense of worth. He has given back to the recovery community ever since. 

He's real, raw, honest, and straight-forward. His words will echo loudly if you're affected by addiction, sitting in self-pity, or paralyzed by fear. His words will move you to act. 

  • Amazon
  • 5163705
  • Facebook
  • Instagram

My Story

Nowadays, when people hear my name, they think of Rory's Home Improvement, my volunteer work in the community, and my beautiful wife, Lilly. When they learn about my crackhead past, they sometimes try to solve my life like a logic puzzle, but my answers only puzzle them more:

No. I grew up with loving parents.

No. I was always good at school. In Hebrew school, too. In fact, I was an Honors student. 

No. I had dreams. I was an up-and-coming chef at a high-end restaurant.

They pause before asking, “So how does that even happen?”

And I tell them.

Yes, I swear. A lot. When I’m telling my story, it’s almost like I’m back there again on the streets of Minneapolis. Some have even said my voice drops and I become who I was—“Hey, motherfucka, what up?” And if I have to change out words where I’m not swearing, then I’m changing my story. 

I’ve spoken in schools, churches, treatment centers, recovery meetings, and in front of hundreds of people at an A.A. convention. I used to hide my past, but today, I don’t care anymore. I want everyone to know. People tell me I can bring them to tears to laughter to inspiration in a matter of an hour by just telling my story. I was ashamed for so long. To know now that my life brings hope is a gift.

With stage IV lung cancer, I don’t know how much time I have left—maybe a year, maybe another twenty. What better way is there to spend my time? I joke about driving my dream car. But I don’t really need anything. I can live pretty simply with a backpack and some change. I want to keep making an impression on people and leaving an effect. I can’t make a better mark on this world than that.

Now, hang on for the ride. It’s called My Life.


Let's connect.

bottom of page