Amy Bowllan

Gehrig's Disease Can't Stop Writer, Chris Taylor
May 14, 2008

"When something tragic occurs in your life, it's easy to feel sorry for yourself and want to give up on life altogether." - Chris Taylor

That said, anyone who is a writer (there are a lot of us out there) can appreciate the pure effort it takes to write. But recently, my brother introduced me to one writer who is taking his craft to a whole new level. 

While Chris Taylor has physical challenges, he is far from letting his disabilities hold him back from his mission -- which is to write. Chris agreed to share his story with my readers. Feel free to give Chris a big hello in the comment section. 

On what  happened...

When I was a college junior, I was diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease. For those who don't know, it's a neuro-muscular disease that slowly causes ones motor nerves to stop working, leaving some individuals without any ability to move, yet maintaining all of the senses. Needless to say, I was completely devastated! In a matter of years, I went from being athletic to using an electric wheelchair. Fortunately for me, after nineteen years since my diagnosis, although I have lost the ability to breathe on my own, I still have minimal movement throughout my body. 

Now my life is light years away from what it used to be. I have very capable nurses who assist me with my routine, daily activities. Starting with a bath, other hygienic care and sometimes breakfast (usually Cuban espresso). Then I get to work, writing. First, I proofread and make necessary changes to the material I've written the day before. After that, I begin writing new material. This will last anywhere from six to ten hours, depending on how I feel. The remainder of my evening is spent either watching television or surfing the web for whatever useless information that catches my eye. I'm typically asleep by 11: 30.

On communication...

I communicate quite easily with those who are around me often. They learn to read my lips and we can carry on normal conversations. For those who aren't able to, I have a computer that has the ability to talk for me. With special hardware and software technology from a company called Words+, I'm typing with and talking with a little flick of my finger.

There is a small box that attaches to my computer. It's an adaptive technology that assists individuals who've lost the ability to type on a standard keyboard. The box works in concert with a word prediction software. In my case, there's a switch that runs from the box to the finger of my choice. This "switch" acts like the clicker on the mouse you might be using to read this story. When I click the switch my finger, a small box with letters, numbers etc. appears on my computer screen. I quickly choose the letters I want by clicking the switch when the letter is highlighted. Voila! Writing ensues.

When something tragic occurs in your life, it's easy to feel sorry for yourself and want to give up on life altogether. I always try to keep in mind that there is always someone in worse condition than myself. We all have a cross to bare. Who am I to say mine is heavier than yours? Realizing this and having people who love you in your life makes these hurdles small. 

On role models...

I have the greatest of admiration for anyone stands up to the injustices in the world. Those revolutionaries who see wrong being committed against others and aren't afraid to challenge that wrong. The strong minded individuals who don't let obstacles impede them. The list is long: people like Malcolm X, Huey Newton and Nelson Mandela. One of my teachers I looked up to and tried to guide her students to embody some of those traits was my sixth grade teacher, Miriam Rumjan.

My teacher had an impact on me by constantly reassuring me that I can do whatever I wanted to do in life. If I use education and intelligence, there were no limits to what I might achieve.
 
On writing...

When I write fiction, I don't have any conscious message when I begin writing. However, there seems to be an ongoing theme that I only recognize once I'm finished. That's of the black male as hero. This is something that mainstream media often ignores or dismisses. Young people need to read about and see that their are righteous black males that don't personify the negative images they are presented with on a daily basis.

                                                  I Will Do My Best by Chris Taylor

        Nathan was the littlest of little boys in Mrs. Brown’s third grade class. Not only was he the smallest boy, but each little girl was a big girl to him, even the littlest of little girls. David and Nina and Devon and Kia all towered over Nathan, the littlest of little boys. Whenever all the children lined up for kickball, softball or even, Nathan’s most favorite, rope jumping, he was always the last to be picked. Because he was the littlest of little, all the other boys and girls did not think he would be good enough to ever play on their team. Nathan, the littlest of little, always felt sad and even smaller about that fact.

            Sometime Nathan would feel so sad that he’d ask Mrs. Brown, “Why am I always the last to be picked?”

            Each time he asked her, Mrs. Brown would smile the warmest possible smile that sometimes Nathan would forget why he was sad. “Did you do your very best,” she always ask the littlest of all the little children of her third grade class.

            “Yes,” was always Nathan’s reply.

            In turn, Mrs. Brown would remind him that it didn’t matter when he was picked. “As long as you do your best whenever you are chosen,” she said. “It will never ever matter if you are picked first or last, so long that you know you’ve done your best.” Nathan didn’t truly understand exactly what she meant, but he knew she cared and that would make him feel better for that whole day.

            One day after all the children came into class after recess, there was a big notice waiting on the board for them to read. It said, in the biggest of letters, “SCHOOL SPELLING BEE IN ONE WEEK!” Mrs. Brown even said the little boy or girl who was the best speller would get a very special prize to share with each and every classmate.

            Boy, was Nathan excited. “Finally something I can do and won’t have to be picked,” he thought to himself. Even though he wasn’t a good speller, Nathan, the littlest of little, could spell big words like bicycle and faucet with his eyes completely closed. Now, he thought about what Mrs. Brown would always tell him about trying his very best.

            That night Nathan went home and brought out all of the spelling books he’d ever had and placed them on his desk. Hour after hour and day after day, did the littlest of Mrs. Brown’s third grade class study. Sometimes he even skipped jumping rope at recess in order to practice spelling the hardest of hard words. By the time the week was over, Nathan had even learned how to read and spell big words from the newspaper. Words like trampoline and politician became just as easy as the easiest of words to spell.

            On the day of the spelling bee, Nathan was so excited when he got to school. He had practiced every word that he ever read, even some that he only heard. When the bee began, it was easy to tell that the littlest of little children was the best speller of all that day. Before long, he was the last one standing on the auditorium stage and all of his classmates cheered and cheered. They cheered even louder when Mrs. Brown told them they were going to have the biggest and best pizza party ever.

            For the rest of that year, Nathan was not the last to be chosen. He wasn’t the last for kickball, basketball or even jumping rope. But whoever was last to be picked from then on, the littlest of little always reminded them to do their very best.

Posted by Amy Bowllan on May 14, 2008 | Comments (15)