One of the major rehabilitation organizations regularly referred to us people who were living in one of their halfway houses, or sober-living houses, as they called them. There were about four houses all within a few blocks of each other in the tidy suburb of Reseda. I often wondered as I drove along the neat little streets with their polite little houses what the suburban folks thought of their neighbors, who were usually fresh out of jail and/or fresh out of detox. Maybe they didn’t know.