JOEL LEVINE ADMITS HE'S 'VERY LUCKY TO BE ALIVE'

PEABODY - Joel Levine traces his drug addiction to a flaw within.
Some of his friends tried the same things. "But they knew when to
call it quits. I passed a line that these kids didn't cross."

Unfortunately, nobody knows ahead of time if they'll be susceptible
to addiction. "It's a crap shoot," explains Levine, 21. "I have an
allergy to drugs and alcohol. That's always going to be with me. For
the rest of my life." He goes back to the days when he was a high
school addict: "I'll be five or six days clean. And I come home, and
I just have to use." He knew what the drugs were doing, destroying
his family and, bit by bit, stealing away his life.

But obsession took hold. And he wouldn't remember any of the reasons
to stay clean. And he would use.

"I couldn't stop until I ran out of money." Levine's remarkable
recovery from addiction to OxyContin and heroin has been a public
affair. The son of former Salem School Superintendent Herb Levine, he
was a young man from a prominent family with an unlimited future who
nevertheless fell into a suburban nightmare.

Then, he survived, and ever since Joel has been in demand, speaking
to groups all over, telling how he became ensnared and, more
importantly, how he escaped. "I'm very lucky to be alive," he says.
"I've been thinking about that a lot this last year. I now realize -
with all the overdoses - I'm very lucky to be alive." A student at
Salem State College living at his parents' home in Peabody, he's now
studying physical education. "I want to take over the family
business," he says cheerily. "I want to be a physical education
teacher and a baseball coach." It's one of his regrets that, if not
for the drugs, the former Peabody High second baseman would be
playing collegiate baseball today. Even so, he hopes he might still
join the Salem State team. "I've been thinking about it," he says.
Lifestyle changes His social life has changed. The "acquaintances" he
knew in the drug scene are far behind. As part of his recovery, he
eschews alcohol. The friends he has now - some of them he's known
since grade school - understand. "They all know if I have a drink,
I'll break out into more and more drinking and then I'll go back to
doing drugs."

With others, he simply declares, "I'm a recovering drug addict." That
can take courage. "I know a lot of people look down on drug addicts
and alcoholics." But more often he's heard people reply, "I have a
lot of respect for you." A 12-step program helped Levine recover.
Paramount was a belief in a "higher power." For Joel that means God,
but he's careful not to use the word because he doesn't want to
discourage others from the program, people who might call their
higher power by a different name. He stays sober with "constant
prayer, with constant thought for other people."

He has an even stronger relationship with his parents and siblings -
the affection is clear in his voice when he speaks of them. "They
support me 100 percent. I don't think I could have done this without
them." The whole Levine family is taking part in a documentary DVD
being created by television personality Jean Blake. It's likely
earmarked for distribution to schools. Going public on all this has
generally worked for the young Levine. However, he still resents a
part of a Sports Illustrated article that seemed to pit him against
former Peabody High baseball teammate Jeff Allison - a Major League
pitching prospect who at first denied his own addiction to OxyContin.
Levine also winces at an article in one of the Boston papers
characterizing him as a "door-slamming menace."

"I was a drug addict," he protests. "I was a confused kid." He
continues to appear before school groups, speaking in a style that is
earnest, plain-spoken and compelling. Visits are scheduled at St.
John's Prep and Manchester High School. He offers advice for both
kids and parents. "Just always, always be on top of your kids," he
says. "Ask them questions. Who they're out with. Where they're going.
Look out for things like a change of friends."

At the same time, he cautions, he can give no magic words to keep
those kids safe. "I think I can do a lot. But what matters is not
what I say to them, but what they get out of it. I can talk till I'm
blue in the face .... but it's up to them."