Tag Archives: oprf

Life Moves Pretty Fast

Last month there was a big ceremony at my former high school in Oak Park, Illinois. Four alumni were awarded the annual Tradition of Excellence, a recognition of work that is representative of the Oak Park River Forest High School ideals and mission. I was fortunate to be one of the recipients, based on a nomination from one of my classmates. As my ALS progresses, travel has become very difficult, and I wasn’t able to attend and speak directly to the 3000 students who piled in to the auditorium for two different presentations. Instead, I made a video, and my parents and two of my best friends went on my behalf.

That morning, I was agitated and I couldn’t figure out why. I suppose I was wondering if my words would land in a meaningful way on this audience. A big part of me was disappointed that I couldn’t be there, and I was anxiously awaiting feedback. I shouldn’t have worried. The events went beautifully, and the Student Council representative who introduced me and my video did an excellent job. Afterward, I received photos of my friends standing next to the wall where my photo would eventually be hung, alongside people who have made much grander contributions to society. It was extremely humbling.

But the best part came a few weeks later, when an OPRF senior sent me a message. Her business class finishes every semester with a group project that benefits a charitable organization of their choosing. Hannah had written to tell me that her group had chosen #whatwouldyougive and the ALS Therapy Development Institute. They made T-shirts using our logo and you can see and purchase them here.
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Scrambled Eggs

“I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I don’t pretend to even know what the questions are. Hey, where am I?” — Jack Handey

I sort of think I should just leave that quote here as today’s blog. It sums up nicely what I’d like to say, and I’m not sure I can expound on it very successfully. But here you are, so I’ll try.

I’m sitting in my bedroom trying to meditate, but my head feels like it’s full of scrambled eggs. I can’t focus on one idea or even a simple set of words that might bring clarity. Clarity, I say in my mind. Clarity. As though that single word might have the power to rush in and vacuum out the contents of my brain, leaving only what is elemental. It doesn’t work, so I lean back in my chair and stare up at the light fixture, running my eyes along its scalloped edges as though I’m working at a strand of worry beads.

I’m perseverating on the concept of a life without ALS. Read More>