Some Reflections

Reflections and gratitude.

The day I was diagnosed and leaving the ALS clinic, I remember getting back to the car and seeing my reflection in the window from my wheelchair. I was obviously devastated; it was the first image of seeing myself with ALS. That image stuck with me in the car ride on the way home. Later that night, I looked in the mirror this time more deeply. I didn't like what I saw. Gray stubble. Wrinkles. A slouched body posture. I saw fear in my eyes and rage in my neck muscles. I was visibly trembling, some from the anxiety and some by the jumpy nerves beneath my skin, one of the signatures of this disease. Not liking the image in front of me, I decided to look beyond the mirror for a more positive image. A more positive reflection. And that's when I started seeing the good. All the good in my life. I didn't want to be defined as reflections of rage or sorrow or anger or self-pity or reflections of a sick person. I wanted to see reflections of all the good in my life. And there they were coming into focus. I am grateful. Reflections and gratitude. That's what I see and how I feel as I sit here sorting through my acorns ... surrounded by good people and good vibes.

Something I wrote in the Fall of 2020 before my official diagnosis but the day I knew for sure from symptoms that my life would change forever:

I'm Trying

My mind is there but my body can’t hear. It’s trying.

My legs walk but with a wobble. They’re trying.

My voice speaks but isn’t clear. It’s trying.

My hands and fingers struggle to tie shoes

or put on a belt, hold a fork or lift a spoon,

open the milk or fill the dogs’ bowl. They’re trying.

My fingers struggle to stay open as I type these words.

But they’re trying. I’m trying.

My shoulders, arms, hands and fingers are all trying.

My legs are trying. My brain is trying. They are all trying.

We are all trying.

And what of the past? Playing guitar or piano?

Grilling a steak? Fixing a meal? Playing pond hockey?

Shuffling cards? Throwing a football?

Or how ‘bout skiing black diamonds at Stowe

or the euphoric satisfaction of running the Boston Marathon

or a sub-forty 10K or completing a triathlon

or racing up the side of Mount Washington

or paddling a flat-water canoe against

the backdrop of the beautiful Berkshire Mountains?

Or simply having the hand strength to dice a tomato?

All good memories to embrace. I’m trying.

Not dwelling on the pain I’m causing

those who care so deeply. I’m trying.

Not loathing social settings or lashing out in frustration

or attempting to re-live the past. I’m trying.

Not being afraid of a flight of stairs. Believe me, I’m trying.

Understanding the what, how and why of this condition.

I’m trying. Striving for a new normal. I’m trying.

Trying to find a silver lining. I’m trying.

Keeping the faith. I’m trying.

In 1986, I applied to be a Big Brother in the Big Brothers/ Big Sisters program. I was 23 at the time and felt strongly that I needed to give something back to a single parent family given all the help that my Mom, Pam, and I received in those early years while living at 35 Prospect Street. I was matched with a wonderful 8-year-old boy named Timothy. Timothy's father passed away at the early age of 30. They were a family transplanted from South Africa to the United States. Timothy's mother and father came to the States for their grad school education and it was soon after that Timothy's father had passed. In any event, Timothy and I spent 4 great years together, visiting each other at least one day a week. During that time, Timothy's extended family in South Africa hosted us for a one month visit in 1987. They were all wonderful people and hosts who shared all of their culture, traditions and memories with us. We spent time in Johannesburg, Pretoria, Durbin, the wine country Stellenbosch, did an overnight African safari in Kruger, traveled through the Karoo on the famous Bleu Train, and spent many evenings swapping stories over wine and dinner at Timothy's uncle's place on the Indian Ocean. How lucky were we? How lucky was I? Timothy was the ring bearer at our wedding which is the last time we saw him before he, his mother, brother and sister returned to South Africa. I’ve touched base with Timothy periodically over the years and he, not surprisingly, became a successful medical doctor. He was always a very bright kid. A good kid. A few then and now pics below ...

July 28, 1990. Happiest day of my life! A stress-free, backyard affair with lobsters, rib-eyes, champagne, a keg of beer, a boom box, Hawaiian shorts, flip flops and 60 of our closest family and friends! We proudly did it on a shoestring and never looked back!

After five years married life without kids, along came David and Riley to complete us. We've been blessed with these guys and, to this day, they are each other's best friend. They still get together for a beer at least once a week to sort through the good, the bad and the in-betweens. Love them.

Six of my favorite people. Anna, Danny, Riley, David, my Mom and Phil! Anna and Danny were such a big part of our lives in those early years and still are. Phil came into my Mom’s life in 1984 and was possibly the best thing that ever happened to her. And my guys, Riley and David, 'nuff said!

The King, Cole, and Walsh cousins all together circa 2010. Always a fun time! Love them all!

Boston Marathon 1990, one of seven full marathons I completed. To qualify, I ran a 3:10 marathon months earlier in Keene, NH (7:14/mile). By the way, my one run in Boston ... not so good (read my account in my writings section). Nonetheless, the pic is a much needed reminder of my stronger days.

Every June, runners from all around set their sights on the challenge of racing up the access road of Mount Washington. Up a 12.5% grade for 7.6 miles! The steepest, sanctioned race in the country. The field is limited to 1,000 runners. We were lucky enough to make the field in '94.

I dabbled in rock climbing for a year back in the 1980s. I didn't do the crazy stuff; I never got good enough but I thoroughly enjoyed my one year. This was an 80 foot climb I did somewhere in western New York. I will never forget the thrill of the climb and the satisfaction of reaching the top!

The "Five Decade Mile Relay." Each team had five runners, a decade apart in age, to run their fastest track mile. Doug, Erv, Steve, Al and I ran for years together on our lunch hour at work. We happened to win the event this particular year!

Ann Leigh and I spent a lifetime paddling together, whether on the Farmington, the Connecticut, Long Island Sound, the Stockbridge Bowl or dozens of beautiful lakes and reservoirs. I miss our time on the water but the memories are forever. This was taken in June of 2020, our last paddle together.