Addict learns to live

"I see tombstones in their eyes."

That's Angel Bojorquez talking about drug addicts, the ones who are utterly without hope and have nowhere to turn.

Angel knows the look because he's been there. The 45-year-old Grass Valley man has a story that is riveting in its details of drug addiction, despair, crime and incarceration. Angel's story, unlike most of this genre, actually has a happy ending. The tall, affable American Indian has been off drugs for 281Ú2 years and is an integral part of the solution as a vital member of Nevada County's "Recovery Community."

Angel's story is one best told from the beginning.

Beer for a baby

"I started drinking when I was 18 months old," Angel said as he sipped coffee in a secluded back corner of Cafe Mekka in Nevada City.

"I was raised on the Tohono O'odham Reservation in southern Arizona, where drinking is a social ill," he said. "My grandfather put beer in my baby bottle, and he would take me to the pool hall, where some thought it was 'cute' to see a baby drinking beer. When I got older, the taste of alcohol was soothing and familiar. I was comfortable in bars. We're all products of our environment."



Angel's family moved to San Jose, where his childhood drug and alcohol addiction escalated to heroin. At 12 years old, he was a courier for a drug cartel.

"I'd take the brown packages and put them in brand new backpacks and deliver them. And when I made my deliveries I'd get tips, like $20."

It wasn't long before Angel and a friend decided to try the mysterious drug that people seemed so happy to receive. They sat in his garage, broke open a package and dipped their fingers in and tasted it. The pure white powder was bitter, but the boys kept "tasting" it. When Angel woke up, he was in the hospital. He had overdosed on heroin. He was 13 years old.

"That was the beginning of the end. When I went to court, my older brother told the judge that I had fallen in with the wrong crowd, and I promised the judge I would never do it again. It was the first lie I ever told to a judge - but not the last one."

A teen heroin addict

A full-blown addict at 13, Angel turned to crime to make ends meet and pay his rising drug costs. He describes his drug career as a learning experience: "I learned about things like extortion and strong-armed robbery." His next "learning experience" was prison. He was sentenced to seven years for trafficking, weapons and conspiracy to sell drugs. He made the easy transition from using and dealing drugs on the outside to using and dealing drugs on the inside.

"I used drugs every day in prison," he said.

When he got out, he tried to kick his habit. Again and again. "I was in and out of detox clinics 42 times in an 18-month period. I was using alcohol, heroin, cocaine, Tuinal, sleeping pills, LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs."

At the age of 26, Angel was done. The party was over. The drugs didn't work their magic any more, and he really didn't see a reason to live. It was December 1976, and Angel was high. He had made it to yet another recovery house, but they didn't have any beds available, so he passed out in the gutter out front, his mind churning with thoughts of suicide.

A helping hand

One of the workers at the recovery house - himself a former addict - saw Angel in the gutter and decided to try to help him. He rounded up some other recovering addicts and they took Angel to the man's house. He sent his wife and daughters packing to a relative's house so the group of men could begin their work: baby-sitting Angel around the clock as he detoxed from a ferocious heroin addiction.

It wasn't a pretty task. As they talked, Angel threw up. For 10 days he was sweating, shaking, his body riddled by cramps. The men talked, and gradually, Angel listened. He really didn't want to die somewhere, face down in a gutter. These brave men understood what he was going through - because they had gone through it, too.

For the first time, Angel had hope. Someone cared about him - even if the "someone" was actually a group of grizzly ex-addicts. They took him to 12-step programs like Narcotics Anonymous, where Angel began to listen, and, a day at a time, slowly rebuild his life.

"I learned about living. I learned what my disease was like - what it did to me physically and emotionally. People told me they'd love me unconditionally and that they would be there for me. It was the first time in my life anyone had ever said that to me."

When Angel hit bottom, he said he was spiritually bankrupt. Becoming clean allowed him to find some spiritual values, including Native American wisdom. At 6 feet, 3 inches tall with a black ponytail under a black felt hat, he looks imposing until you hear his soft, clear voice asking yet another question of his interviewer.

"Why? Why do you do things? Everyone asks an addict 'why?"'

Angel turns the corner

He sits up straighter when he describes what his life is like now. His large brown eyes grow bright as he acknowledges he is a positive, responsible human being. He's a father, and a grandfather, and a loving husband. Now, he lives to help others.

"Way too many of us are lost. We're not your enemy - we're your children. People need to talk to each other. We're no different than you are; we just had it a little tougher."

The Grass Valley resident, who is retired from the state of California, is also a blues broadcaster on Nevada City's KVMR-FM (89.5). His program, Lil' Angel B's Blues Cafe, is on alternate Thursdays from midnight to 4 a.m.

What ex-addicts have to offer

Angel, who is usually positive and upbeat on all matters, says he's tired of people discussing the county's drug problems but avoiding the ex-addicts who may have some answers for them.

"Why aren't we invited to speak at service clubs? Why can't we be a part of the (Nevada County Community) Leadership Institute?"

Angel and others who have battled substance abuse addiction aren't waiting for the government to set up clinics and halfway houses. They reach out to one another, helping however they can, sharing solutions. They invite addicts to detox in their living rooms, take them to Drug Court and sit beside them at 12-step programs. They give them hope - and teach them responsibility.

Many of Nevada County's ex-addicts went through the Community Recovery Resources program, or CORR, and there is now an alumni association of former drug and alcohol addicts.

"The Recovery Community here is like one big family," Angel said.

"If somebody disappears, we know it. We take care of our own. And we have to try harder - it's too easy for them to go back out there. They're afraid of living and afraid of dying."



<I>To contact Readership Editor Dixie Redfearn, e-mail dixier@theunion.com or call 477-4238.</I>