Not Your Church Basement

Hank Azaria, a mother’s grief, and a sober club in Midtown that finally gets it.

The United Nations General Assembly was in town, which meant the East Side of Manhattan had become a hostage situation: motorcades, barricades and a cab driver who had made peace with never moving again. I walked the last several blocks to East 49th Street. I mention this so you understand my commitment to journalism.

Bigvision’s is worth the schlep. It is bright, newly renovated and well appointed, miles from the musty church basement with horrible coffee that still serves as architectural shorthand for recovery. But the place exists because a kid is dead.

Twelve years ago, Eve Goldberg lost her 23-year-old son, Isaac, to an accidental overdose after several trips through rehab. We usually tell that story as Isaac failing recovery. Maybe treatment failed Isaac. He didn’t lack programs. Goldberg came to believe he lacked a culture: people, a place, a reason to show up sober on a Friday night.