Summer evening in Denver, Colorado, about 20 years ago. I was undergoing treatment for drug dependency. My counselor had a way of getting his point across. We piled into a large white van and drove from the treatment center to stop number one. We would visit three locations that night, each time taking enough time for a discussion.
And where did this crafty old man take us? Where does someone go in order to roundtable the future of such a group of misfits? Well, an emergency room, a jail, and a cemetery, of course. How many of those guys have died since then?