Patrick liked drinking beer back home in North Carolina. After getting drunk with his buddies, he'd hate that hung over feeling and could take the beer or leave it. But when the country boy went to New York City as a union electrician working maintenance at the World Trade Center, he mingled with a different crowd. He had easy access to cocaine, and the day seemed a lot brighter after he used it. A few months later, he realized he couldn't walk away.

He left New York and came to Houston, where he got a fresh start and ran with a different crowd. But as soon as he crossed paths with cocaine, he started up again. At an afterhours party he took a hit off a crack pipe, and crack became the monkey on his back. To supply his habit between paydays, he ordered extra tools and supplies for the job and then pawned them. He couldn't shake the monkey.

By 1992, Patrick's substance abuse had wrecked his physical and emotional health. His weight had dropped to 105 pounds. He looked in the mirror and found that the boy who could do anything was gone. He knew he needed help.

Patrick went into a treatment center and came out believing he was cured. But his determination did not last and eventually he relapsed. Patrick wandered at the bottom for some time. He checked into Quinton Meese for rehab but relapsed again. He pawned his tools and ended up living on the street. He had no place to go when he heard about The Men's Center.

When Patrick first came to The Men's Center in 1994, the man working admissions rejected him because Patrick didn't have the first week's rent. Patrick sat on the steps outside The Men's Center meeting room and cried. Eventually, the admissions clerk sat down beside him and asked, "Are you crying because you can't get in this place or because you pawned your tools?"

The Men's Center took him in, paid for his first week and redeemed his tools from the pawnshop. Patrick liked what he found in The Men's Center. He liked attending the meetings. He liked the men who lived there. They were nothing like him, yet they were everything like him.

In 1997, he got a job offer that came with a free apartment, so he moved out. Old drug habits came back. By 2001 he found himself once again on the streets and on the steps of The Men's Center. This time they refused to admit him. This time they weren't the answer. He checked into Houston Recovery Center. While he was there, he watched the Twin Towers he had worked on come down, and somehow, 9-11 made him refocus. He knew he wanted to do something with his life.

He decided to start his own business. He got an appointment with the Texas Rehab Commission and his TRC counselor helped him buy tools and re-instate his license. Two years later, he took the tools back to his counselor and thanked her.

Patrick believes that this time when he sobered up, he left behind the nobody that crack made him. He continues to expand his business. In 2005 he met his wife, a teacher who filled in a missing link for him. Recently they bought a house. On second thought, make that a home.

The Men's Center remains part of his daily life. Every time he goes to the permit department down the street, Patrick visits The Men's Center. If he is feeling out of sorts or upset about business problems, a cup of coffee at The Men's Center squares him up and reminds him what is really relevant. "Being sober is easier than getting there," he says.

Every time he comes for coffee, he takes the time to befriend and encourage a man who needs to believe in being somebody again. If he sees more hope than fear in a man, he'll buy his first week at The Men's Center, anonymously paying forward the gift he received years ago.

Although our stories are true, names and photos have been changed to preserve anonymity.