A maximum custody penitentiary in Michigan, age twenty-four, and the sudden, cold realization that a drunken blackout had cost two human beings their lives. Tom I. describes his early years as a runaway train, a blur of "pitiful, incomprehensible demoralization" and a sickening routine of jails, psych wards, and waking up married to women he didn't know. He lived in the armpit of Flint, selling his blood for five bucks a throw and feeding on others in a social food chain.
The turn came not from heroics, but from a rookie social worker and a speaker named Shy Walker, who had robbed a judge. In the crude, obscene environment of the prison, Tom found a "logical design for living." He discovered a group of drunks who did exactly what they said they would do, teaching him that the surgery of the eighth and ninth steps was the only way to stop dragging the wreckage of his past. He left the facility a free man in every way that mattered.
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