Lucky to be Alive

It was a warm day in the summer of 2000 and I quickly drove through the winding mountain roads of Los Angeles, California in my fixed up Honda Civic. Unfortunately, I misperceived a sharp left-hand turn and within an instant found myself spinning out of control. I tried to correct the spin, but when the front tires regained their traction, I was pointed in the direction of a large dirt mound that sat right on the edge of a 50ft mountain cliff. The car shot right at the mound and I remember looking at the sky as the car went directly up into the air. Just as fast as I saw the clouds, the next second I saw the ground approaching. The impact was hard and it sent my car end over end and down the mountain side. I finally came to a stop with the roof of my car to the ground. My first thought was how good it felt to stop tumbling and that I can’t believe I’m alive or is this even real? I unhooked my seat belt and fell out of my seat onto the roof of my car. I quickly climbed out the window of my car in fear that it was about to explode and scaled up the mountain that I just flew down.
Once at the top, I gave myself a look over. I was bleeding from a small cut on top of my right hand. I checked the rest of my body.. Everything felt and moved just fine.. I looked down at car, it was destroyed and lying upside down, like an insect when it dies. This did not even seem real; the tumbling, the sound of broken glass; it all happened so quickly. I was going to wake up any second now breathing heavy at home in my bed, and my car was going to be parked out front safely in the driveway.
The tow truck arrived and the man pulled my car up from the bottom of the mountain. After loading the car onto the bed of the truck, the tow man looked at me and said, “ I have pulled cars from all sorts of places and seen accidents that did not look half this bad. The passengers were crushed and killed. I cannot believe you are standing here next to me. God must have something special planed for you boy."

Six years later my best friend and I decided to take out his boat for mini lobster season. We lowered the 23 foot boat dock side down into the water and jumped in. After several attempts of starting the engines of the boat, we concluded that the battery of the boat was dead and needed a jump start. My best friend went to get the Chevy Tahoe and bring it down the boat ramp while I hopped into the water and walked the boat around to an angle where the battery would be exposed for the jump start.
Cables hooked up and the Tahoe engine roaring, we unfortunately still could not get the boat engine to start up. “Let’s call it a day” I told my best friend. We disconnected the jumper cables and he climbed into the truck to back up and prepare to load the boat onto the trailer. At the same time I began to walk the boat back to the correct position. In the truck, my best friend began to lift his foot off the break, he felt the weight of the truck slowly starting to slide forward down the algae filled ramp towards me. In a panic he pulled his foot off the break and slammed down the accelerator peddle. Tragically the car was never in reverse, but in drive. The last thing I heard was the roar of the massive V8 Chevy Tahoe engine charging towards me. The truck struck me right in the back and picked me up slamming me into the side of the boat and pinning me there. I felt my back pop as if I was an aluminum Coke can crushed between the ground and a stomping foot.
The first thing I thought to myself as this was happening was "I broke my legs and my back. And if I let go of the side of this boat I will drown under it. I have to hold on until someone helps me." I heard screams around me but could not figure out where or who they were coming from. My best friend, Oliver put the truck into reverse and pulled back immediately! He climbed out of the truck and ran over to me. I remember telling him “something is wrong; something is wrong call 911 please!” He carried me out of the water and tried lying me down on the top of the boat dock. I could not lie down; I had a swollen hematoma on the base of my back that was described to me as a red, black and blue football. The ambulance arrove soon after and the medics checked my vital signs and strapped me onto a gurney and rushed me to the hospital. They did not know what damage had been caused by the accident and if I was internally bleeding or something inside of my body had exploded on contact.
The ride to the emergency room was so painful; my body was swollen and I felt every bump the ambulance hit. Once in the emergency room the doctors cut off my clothes, administered an I-V and began running tests. I went through an MRI a CAT scan, several X-Ray sessions and a few other tests. Those hours are all a blur due to the extreme pain. The next memory I have is waking up in a hospital room to a kind doctor asking me how I was feeling. He informed me that there was massive trauma and inflammation of my Iliopsoas muscle also knows as the hip-hiker, that the entire left side of my pelvis had shifted or rotated down almost 3 inches and that I broke my sacrum. “Besides the skull, this is the most difficult bone in the body to break” he said. Not so comforting... He also said that if I were two inches taller or two inches shorter that I would have broke both my legs or snapped my spine in half. The doctor said that it would be months before I might walk again and that he would like to keep me in the hospital for a few more days to observe my progress.
My first night's sleep was extremely uncomfortable, not only because of the extreme pain I was in but because of the fact that the hospital beds are for the average height person and I am 6’2. I did not fit in the bed and I was getting more frustrated and uncomfortable as each hour went by. My father stayed that night in the hospital room with me and the next morning I asked him to sit by my side. I told him that “I refuse to be a victim and I refuse to believe that I may not walk again until several months.” He said “Keeno, (my nickname) I believe in you and I am here to support you every step of the way. Anything you need or want I am here!” To that I said, “Dad, let’s get out of here!” I pulled myself up and asked him to help me stand. As I was just getting my feet to the side of the bed and onto the floor, the nurse walked in and just about had a seizure! “No! What are you doing!?” she said in a very strong yet concerned voice. I explained to her that I had to do this to show her that I was ok to leave. And with the help of my father, took a few steps.
The doctor scheduled a check up two weeks in the future and another two weeks after that. I went to the first appointment on crutches and to the next appointment a month from the day of the accident with only a cane helping me walk. The doctor could not believe the rate that I was healing, let alone walking. It took me about a full year to completely recover; the hardest year of my life.
These experiences have thought me to value life and all that it has to offer. I've also become humble and aware of a power greater than myself. I know now that one must love life and be willing to change and accept what life brings to your doorstep, as well as move in harmony with all that surrounds you. Life is a precious gift that must be cherished at all times!! I have no regrets and I am not a victim!

I hope you have enjoyed my story and in some way it has inspired you to live each one of your days to its fullest!

After I fully healed I wrote this poem:
Times are trying & trying are times that make one stronger.
Impossible is nothing, with the courage and strength of the heart!
I alone choose, I alone grow, I alone withstand the sly calculating backlash of the seasons. 
I have weathered the storm, held tight through the turbulent winds & rains; I have walked hand in hand with the sun as it pierces my skin and burns me through. And now I have emerged, better, faster, stronger.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmN79BZg6sM

Harold & His Books and/or My Realization

Walking to my storage unit last week I passed an open unit that was full of books from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. It was such a shocking and pleasant surprise to see this amazing display of books that I decided to poke my head inside... I announced myself with a few "hellos" and out from behind a stack of hundred year old books this little old man answered. He poked his head up like a surprised dear who had stopped at a pond for a drink.

I began to ask him a few questions about his book collection; where his books were from, what type of books he collected and how many he had? 

Harold was his name and he told me that he had over 30 thousand books. He started “collecting books seriously” in his twenties and had books ranging from the 1580's Spanish Armada to 2008 Harry Potter. It was a surreal and magical feeling to stand among that array of books. I asked Harold about the books he has read, his favorite authors and what he planned to do with all of his books?

After going over all my questions and listening to a few stories about how Harold came across 1930's VOGUE magazines, original Beatles vinyl albums and 1700’s French enlightenment Voltaire books. He told me he was thinking about selling all his books, sadly he said “people don't read the way they used to so I don’t think I’ll have too many buyers”.

Hearing Harold say this really got me thinking... I did a little home work and it seems that since the 1960’s book publishing has slowly decreased and in 2005 with the strong push of the internet and concepts like The Nook, audible.com and the "Going Green" movement; book sales and publishing are decreasing rapidly.

Magazines and newspapers have reported some of their worst years in history. Companies looking to advertize now have Google add words, Yelp and countless other options.  In a way I feel like books, magazines and newspapers are slowly becoming a thing of the past... And if we as a society can allow this to happen with publications that are a physical memento of our social evolution what else about our history will we let slowly fade away?

Harold inspired me to read, buy books and seek out parts of our history that are fading away. I asked him if he would be interested in having lunch with me in the upcoming weeks. I very much look forward to listing to his stories about what I may have forgotten or never have know if I would not have asked and listened. I guess the point of my writing is, we have to embrace the past in order to inspire the future.