Saskatchewan, 1952. Cecil C. woke up in a hospital bed, black and blue from a beating he earned after cheating in a poker game.
He had spent years running—from the discipline of home into the Army, from responsibility into the Navy, and from the truth into a bottle. He describes himself as a "big shot" fueled by pride and "big shot-ism," a man who could glide across a dance floor like Fred Astaire but couldn't manage a checkbook or a marriage. Even sober, he was a "negative barber," cutting down everyone around him until he finally hit the cement floor.
He found a Higher Power not through a sudden epiphany, but through the attraction of two men in shiny shoes who looked like they had found a way out. Cecil recounts the wreckage of $6,200 in debt and the arrogance that led him to rip phones off walls, eventually learning that sanity is simply moving from negative to positive thinking.
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