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352 pages, Hardcover
First published April 21, 2014
Looking back, I can see that it all started to fall apart with my first marriage. Until then, I had marveled to myself almost smugly about how unaffected I was by my crazy past and family. Even as my career took off in my late teens and early twenties, I fell into none of the typical pitfalls that many survivors of challenging childhoods did; I never did drugs, I had a healthy relationship with food, I didn’t engage in casual sex, and I only drank as much as my friends did. But for me, it was my craving for normal — that dangling carrot that seemed always just beyond my reach — that would be my undoing.
The idea that had been brewing in his mind since his teens was pulling at him stronger than ever now. He had heard talk about a movement up north in Canada, a land known for its harsh climate and gentle handling of disillusioned Americans. But a new country was only the start of my grandfather’s plan. He knew how to hunt, how to survive in the wild, and he had some exciting ideas about shelter. What his kids needed was fresh mountain air and dirt between their toes. If he could just get them away from the city and into nature, back to the basics of food, water, clothing and shelter, they might still stand a chance.
When I got back to my room, I stood gazing at the collage over my bed. I had found the frame in our back alley, and spent hours pasting into it pictures of models cut from magazines. I took a deep breath and stood up tall. The idea that had been in my head for so many years now suddenly seemed a lifeline. There was one way to escape my crazy family, and all I had to do was grab hold of it.