A quart of slow gin and a half-pound of Spanish peanuts at age twelve; a cold chicken leg and Mad Dog wine on a kitchen floor twenty-five years later. These are the bookends of Jim M.’s drinking life. A former federal prosecutor and state senator, Jim spent years falling off upholstered bar stools and treating dinner as a hard-boiled egg and pepperoni from a dirty bottle. After a car wreck killed his wife, he fled to California, where he practiced law while passing out under his own conference table.
The Mayo Clinic once diagnosed his wreckage as "executive stress syndrome," a label he used to justify a cocktail of Valium and booze until he hit a wall. He describes his early AA experience as a clash between "big shot" Beverly Hills meetings and the "genetic misfits" of Oxnard. Eventually, Jim climbed from the alleys to the Superior Court bench, utilizing a Higher Power to survive the grit of dependency court.
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