I have a new moniker for Steve L., one of my four brother-in-laws with the same first name. Now he’s Ramp Man to me. He drove to the Cape from Connecticut fully loaded: Boston Whaler packed with bikes, folding tables, life jackets, power tools, and reclining chairs...
I often hide my hands now. They stay clasped in my lap when I’m in polite society, though I can’t stop myself from checking for sore spots. They are cracked and deeply lined. The tips sometimes split where the skin meets the nail. I have callouses on the insides of...
“What happened to your dog?” The kid must have been about eight; his sister younger by a few years. She wore a silver tiara. He held the matching magic wand and brandished it like a sword. It took me a minute to register the question. He frowned and pointed to...
The subject line read, “Just diagnosed with AMN.” Aaron from Auburn found my blog. He went on to tell me about his initial symptoms with our condition. He wrote about his family, his faith, and his fears. We shared an uncertain future and the same area code. Would I...
Finally. I was not the token wheelchair guy in the room. The scene? A national conference in Atlanta focused on the study of disabilities. The audience? Wonderfully diverse. Riding in one of the elevators after sessions on the first morning, I was joined by four other...
I like to sit on the picnic tables by Double Bluff Beach on Whidbey Island, a place I can’t easily access, and watch Leslie walk with Gus. We tend to leave Seattle at dawn on these ventures and catch the first ferry over. I take books and my ledgers and pens. Leslie...
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