Valentine's Day, 1978. A garage in Fremont. Dave R. is screaming at the ceiling with a gun in his ear, ready to pull the trigger, when his dog bolts out a broken door. Chasing the animal down the street, Dave finds himself spread eagle in a cul-de-sac, held at gunpoint by a neighbor who is a cop. He describes this moment as "incomprehensible demoralization," feeling lower than the pavement while his children watch.
Dave’s wreckage is heavy: a childhood of resentment, a tour as a Marine door gunner in Vietnam where he fired into friendlies, and the cold memory of murdering prisoners. He spent years as a "bulletproof" alcoholic, embezzling $25,000 from his father and abandoning a wedding. After failing multiple times to white-knuckle sobriety, Dave finally surrendered to a Higher Power. Today, he navigates a brain tumor and seizures, treating them not as crises, but as events.
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