1995, Staten Island. Tommy T. arrived kicking and screaming, mandated by the courts and buried under $138,000 in debt to loan sharks, bookies, and mobsters. He was a man who jumped over hedges when a car backfired, convinced a hitman was closing in. A third DWI with a loaded handgun and narcotics in the backseat had finally brought him to the basement, though he spent his first 18 months simply "not drinking" while living on his mother's couch.
He describes a childhood of volatility, wondering if a slamming car door meant a beating or lobster tails. His Higher Power began as his grandmother; the smell of mothballs in her house meant safety. He recounts the wreckage of his youth—stealing from that grandmother, abandoning an eight-month pregnant wife, and a life of "sexual depravity" in a punk band. Guided by Lucky George, a bald-headed bookie from Brooklyn, Tommy moved through the steps mechanically, eventually facing the terror of Step Nine. He transformed his relationship with his...
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