With a backdrop of guitar and tambourines, I tell a Cliffs Notes version of my story.
We're at the Gathering of the Vibes, a 3-stage music festival packed with new millennium hippies -- and their kids.
Riley inches closer, grubby hands reaching for the baby girl's tiny fingers. "Don't touch," I say gently. "Show her the toys."
The baby's mom and I start talking. She tells me they're from Massachusetts, but her husband went to school in the Philly area. Undergrad at Villanova. Med school at Jefferson. That's how my story comes up.
"I'm a big fan of Jefferson," I tell her. "They saved my life."
I chase after her.
But only recently have I realized how much the story's changed over time – not so much in the facts, but in the TELLING.
Take the Amputee Coalition Conference last month. There we were, nearly a thousand amputees gathered together. Clearly, we all had stories to tell. And we did. We talked about families and jobs, hobbies and goals, prostheses and prosthetists.
But surprisingly, the beginning of our stories rarely came up. Instead we focused on NOW – the stories we create as we move forward.
At Mile Marker 1200, I notice it again. The first chapter simply sets the stage. It does not predict the ending.
Or traveling to see my brother Andy and his School of Rock All-Stars?
|There's something very|
funny about this :)
Or even painting this unique pedicure?
Shortly after that elevator ride, I'm feeding dollar bills into a city parking kiosk. My story emerges again. Unexpectedly this time.
"You should see this young woman standing in front of me," says a female voice from behind.
I spin around. She's talking on her cell phone. About me?
And I'm honored to share it.