Remember when…

This week I’m traveling for a visit back home to see my parents, so, of course, I’ll also be spending time with KP and his family. As I get ready for the trip, I look back on the way air travel used to be…before 9/11… before everybody and their dog (or cat, or goat, or other support animal) thought they could fly anywhere… even before Uber. As always, you’re probably asking how I’m going to tie this to my Lou Gehrig’s disease. Well, stay tuned.

My first flight didn’t occur until I was a senior in high school. That’s 1978 for those who are keeping track. (As I write this, Amy is holding up five fingers saying, “I was this many!”). Of course this trip was with KP. His parents were taking us to Dallas to see a Cowboys game and wanted someone to keep KP occupied. There are several moronic stories I could tell about our exploits that weekend, but that’s not what today’s post is about.

The most remarkable thing I remember about that first time on a plane was how unremarkable it really was. Parking was easy and close to the terminal, check-in was: have a ticket, check your bags (no weight limit), get on the plane. No TSA, no group numbers, no hassle about the size of your carry-on and there was even a smoking section on the plane. Once we landed at DFW it was just grab your bag and hop in a cab. No long cab lines, no special “hired ride” area. We were even approached by a private limo driver (unheard of today).

Making plans to get to the airport comes at a price. Do I drive or take an Uber ($65 each way)? Or pay $43 a day to park? (Back on that first trip, either of these would have covered the price of the hotel and dinner in Dallas). Do I pay to check a bag or only take a carry-on? Are all my hair care products 3.4 ounces or less and how do I tell? Can I take finger nail clippers? Do I have my Real ID and what the heck is that? Since I signed up for CLEAR should I try that? Did I leave any bullets in my luggage? (Don’t want to get stuck in a Caribbean jail!) There’s just way too much thinking needed for a 3-day trip.

After re-reading that paragraph, I think I understand why we’ve decided to road trip all over this great country. I couldn’t even imagine Rye on a plane. Not to mention, even though Amy flies a lot for work, she’s not the best air traveler. With her accumulated miles she gets to fly first class most of the time, so when I was looking at a trip to New Zealand earlier this year I, of course, wanted her to be comfortable. Let me just say that twenty-seven thousand dollars for each first class ticket had better buy a lot of comfort! We’ve postponed that trip for a while. (Park City here we come!)

One more reason for road tripping is space…Amy needs a lot of it. When we first started dating we traveled all over on our Harleys. We packed for 10-day trips in just our saddle bags. Now a weekend getaway fills the back of the F-350. A 2-week vacation fills up the 16-foot bike trailer as well. (I took up less space when I moved myself to Chicago). I love my wife and I’m so comforted by the fact that should the apocalypse occur while we’re on vacation, we’ll be good on our own for at least a decade.

Writing about traveling through the states and going back to my hometown just stirs up memories of one of my favorite coming-of-age songs from the 70s. A very good friend, that I don’t get to see near enough, is going to love that I have decided to share Chevy Van by Sammy Johns. (I’m just blessed that once Amy crawled into my F-350, she never left.)

As I wrap up this week’s entry and tie things together, I must admit that it’s not going to end as I had originally intended. In my original conclusion, I was going to relate how unbelievably blessed I am to be able to make this trip, getting on a plane and traveling to see my parents and even KP. Two years ago I was told I had two to three years to live and that my physical abilities would diminish quickly and steadily over that time. The last time I went back home I believed was going to be the last. Instead I get to travel unincumbered and I firmly believe, not for the last time. For this, I give you, those who love and pray for me, all the credit. Thank you!

The new conclusion is this: I’m putting out a call for action for someone else. This week I started corresponding with a young man who was diagnosed with ALS around the same time as I was, but is now paralyzed from this awful disease. I’ll call him “Paul” to respect his and his family’s privacy.

Paul is a father with a beautiful wife and two young daughters. He has made the choice to try some of the outside-the-box treatments that I have employed, but, more importantly, he is relying on his faith to get him and his family through this ordeal. We both follow Dr. Richard Bedlack, a doctor out of Duke who is one of the few medical doctors actually tracking ALS reversal, and also has an open mind about treatments outside the normal medical community. Dr. Bedlack has documented 62 cases of ALS reversal though his years of study. This is a very small number but it is not zero!

My request to all those who read this blog is to help me make Paul number 63. Please use the love and prayers you’ve given to me to do the same for him. I believe in my heart that Paul is more than deserving of a little of our time, that the world needs him in it, and that we can make a difference. (For those not into prayer, we’re also accepting best wishes, good vibes, virtual hugs, good thoughts, and any other type of positive energy you’d like to send Paul’s way.)

Thanks for keeping up with my disjointed entry this week. Your time is appreciated.

Have a great weekend and you’ll hear from me again next week.

God Bless.

Coach