From the June 1958 magazine.

Home at Last

WHISKEY AND WATER KEPT ME ALIVE when I was born, and I believe I have always been an alcoholic. At fourteen I drank two martinis and passed out. At sixteen I had but one thought: "where do I get the next drink, and when."

For the following twenty-one years this thought motivated my life. And so alcohol ruled. But something else was working, too. How else did I bring the car safely home night after night in a total blackout? What held back all trains on a busy railroad track, while I sat in the middle of it; what held back my car, when I deliberately crashed it into a guardrail at seventy miles an hour, only to find the car hurt but a little and me not at all; what was that impenetrable wall I crashed into and could not get through as I headed toward the river with the one hope that I'd drown?

-- M. P.

Binghamton, New York

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