From the March 2019 magazine.


A tragic event sends a Navy man on a journey to AA and faith

It was slightly past 2:00 a.m. on a Saturday during the spring of 1983 when I came out of yet another blackout, this time lying flat on my back on the pavement of the interstate in Northern California.

I dimly recalled drinking “kamikaze shots” for hours on an empty stomach before getting on the freeway. Now my car was facing the wrong way in the fast lane, its headlights still on as a beacon to oncoming cars. Across my forehead, my own warm blood was flowing.

-- Thomas D.

Vista, California

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