Taking my second Lynchburg College semester off meant pumping gas through spring 1980. It was much less glamorous than being in school, but the peace of mind from reading books and writing during off hours was better than dorm life. In April I looked to summer, thinking frantically of how to improve my situation, coming up with nothing.

At Lynchburg, I had achieved a 3.8 grade point average for 18 credits. I was busy, but I was also alcoholic, managing twice to escape daily partying and studies by backpacking in the Blue Ridge Mountains.