Archives For Help

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Helping Hands Midwest Picnic 2012

August 8, 2012 — 5 Comments

I spent last weekend in Ohio.

I know, right?

I was invited to be a “guest of honor” at the 2nd annual Helping Hands Midwest picnic, so all five Haacks hopped in the van and made the nearly nine hour trip to Harrison, OH, for the fun.  And we were not disappointed!

Helping Hands Midwest is “a networking group for families who have someone with a hand difference; to get together to share, inspire and celebrate.”  In 2004 my friend Kim’s son, Gabe, was born missing his left hand and they made several trips to the east coast to meet with doctors and a group there.  She thought it’d be nice to have a group like that in the midwest, so…she started one.  She’s awesome.

We pulled into Harrison Friday evening and immediately participated in my kids’ two favorite activities:  Swimming and eating.  Since we were so much farther south than usual, we had to eat at Waffle House.  “This is the best food EVER!” the kids proclaimed.  Vacations are awesome because everything is the best.

Once we hit the pool, the real fun began.  Leading up to the picnic, I wondered how my kids would react to other kids with limb-differences.  I mean, I’m dad.  They’re used to me.  But, what about a bunch of kids running around with little arms?  Well, Joe and his daughter Julia were in the pool.  Julia is beautiful little girl with a hand difference and she was practicing holding her breath.  And then little Gavin showed-up with his family.  Gavin’s hands are different, but you’d never know it with all the swimming and jumping he did!  So, how did my kids react?  As of this writing, I’m not sure they even noticed.

Later that night I had the privilege of meeting Molly Stapelman (founder of LuckyFinProject.org) and her family in person.  Finally.  I had gone to get something from our car at midnight and on the way back into the hotel I see a woman (it was Molly) pop out of her car and say, “Hiiiii, Ryan.”  Classic meeting.  Team Stapelman was a tired bunch, so we said our see-you-in-the-mornings and went to bed.

Saturday morning brought breakfast and more swimming and more limb-different kids running all over the hotel.  I really wonder what the employees thought!  We headed over to the picnic around noon…and it was amazing.  There were nearly 200 people there!  We got checked-in and then made our way around to meet some people and my kids went to play games with the other kids.  Everyone seemed so happy to be there.  And it seemed so natural to me.  I wondered how I would react as I’ve never been around a group of limb-different people before (since I was little, at least).  It just seemed right.

My favorite part was meeting the kids.  There were actually kids there that were waiting to meet me.  Me.  What the heck?  I was so excited and honored to meet them!  And meeting the parents and hearing their stories meant the world to me.  It was so encouraging to hear, in person, that what I’m doing is making a difference.  To look into their eyes and shake their hands and give them hugs…seriously, it was the best.

Abdiel and Me

I got to give a talk, too, wherein I shared my story and gave some advice for raising limb-different kids.  It’s funny because I’m a dad, but all my kids have all their limbs.  But, I was the limb-different kid who was raised well, so I think that gives me a pretty unique perspective.  It went well from what I can tell, but next year I’m going to request a wireless mic or a stand.  It’s hard to hold a mic and speak when you’re a hand-waver with only one hand!  We also got to hear from my friends Eric (MySpecialHand.com), Tony Memmel, Elizabeth Stinson and Molly (LuckyFinProject.org).  Each of them had a unique perspective and powerful words to say.  I’m so proud to be friends with them all.

Saturday night a group of us took over the hotel lobby (shhhh!!!) and had so much fun I think I pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.  I remember looking around and thinking, “These people are amazing.”  Each one of them was funny and kind and compassionate and loving.  There was a comraderie between us all that went witout saying.  And I believe that connection will stay with us for a lifetime.

I’m so grateful for our time in Ohio with everyone involved with Helping Hands Midwest.  It confirmed for me, again, my role in the limb-different community and stoked the fire to push-on toward even bigger and better things.  It confirmed my belief that limb-different kids are some of the most resilient, creative, funny, determined kids on the planet.  It confirmed the fact that the parents of these kids are both down-to-earth and other-worldly.

And it confirmed that carrying two pizzas, a burrito and a two-liter of Sprite into a hotel – with one hand – is a pain in the butt.

Thank you SO much to Kim and everyone that attended the 2012 Helping Hands Midwest Picnic!

See you next year!

Best picture ever. Sam (MySpecialHand), Me, Molly and Ryan (LuckyFinProject), Tony and Lesleigh Memmel

Me and Sam from MySpecialHand.com

Ryan and Ryan, my little buddy (LuckyFinProject)

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In Help, Hope, Humor
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Am I Stubborn Or Just Singular Focused?

July 28, 2012 — 15 Comments

A few weeks ago I wrote, “I don’t think I’m very stubborn.”

Yeah…I take that back.

This week I noticed a slow leak in the toilet in my kids’ bathroom.  Upon first glance, it just looked like one of the gaskets had given out.  The whole system was old, so I decided I’d just replace it all this weekend.  Fun Saturday project, right?  Heck, maybe I’ll even make a time-lapse video of the repair for the blog!

I got the parts and tools and set the camera up and away I went.  Everything went smoothly for approximately three minutes.  Then, as I started trying to loosen one of the nuts from the bolt that held the tank to the bowl, I noticed the whole thing kept spinning.  This is a nightmare for a person with one hand.  Two-handers can use one hand to hold the top of the bolt steady with a screwdriver and then work on the nut with their other hand.  I can’t.  So, I just kept spinning it and spinning it, getting more and more frustrated.

At this point, if I was smart, I would have stopped.  Of course I didn’t.  I mean, the video was running and I knew my wife wanted it done and I hate being defeated.  Seriously, ask my wife how I get with these projects. Wait…I take that back.  Don’t ask her.  It got to the point where I had stripped both bolts that I needed to remove, so…ugh, this is so embarrassing…I just grabbed my vice-grips and started torquing them back and forth, hoping to snap them in half.  One of them actually did, but the other one didn’t.  It really didn’t.  In fact, it so didn’t, it busted a hole through the tank.  You can imagine my joyous response.

Well, I was not giving-up.  I went back to the hardware store (we are now two hours into the project) and got a hacksaw (to remove the bolt) and a large rubber washer which would hopefully cover the hole.  I went ahead and put all the new hardware in and hoped for the best.  I turned the water back on and as the tank filled…it also started to leak.  Everywhere.  So, there I stood, sopping wet with sweat, my back and hand killing me, garbage and water everywhere, frustrated beyond belief.  Three hours for nothing.  And I still had to clean all this crap up.  And buy a new tank and do it all over again!

At least a had a cool shirt on.

Stubborn.

Being stubborn can be a blessing and a curse, I suppose.  In this case it seems like a curse.  I wasted a good portion of my day, when I could have stopped as soon as I realized it wasn’t going to work and tried again when I had some help.  That’s not really my gig, though.  I think of it as being “singular focused” or determined or competitive.  “THIS TOILET WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!” I said (before cursing it).

I need to be smart about it, though.  I’m sure a lot of you can relate.  I’m sure it’s naturally ingrained in me to prove that I can do things because of my limb-difference, but there are times I need to be less stubborn and more wise.  There are times I need to ask for help, even if it feels like defeat.

And as I write that, perhaps that’s where the lesson lies.  Maybe I didn’t waste three hours of my day breaking my toilet and my back.  Maybe it was to teach me that it’s ok to ask for help when I need it.  In fact, it’s more than ok; it’s necessary sometimes.  And when we put aside our stubbornness and get the help we need, things tend to work a lot better.

And even though my toilet is still broken, that lesson’s worth three hours.

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By the way…here’s the video:

In Help, Hope, Humor
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Amazing Stories Can Begin In Unexpected Places

July 27, 2012 — 11 Comments

There’s a Culver’s restaurant two blocks from my house.

Without trying to sound overly dramatic, that’s where my life changed forever.

And I’m not referring to a fried cheese-curd experience.

In late 2010, I was eating dinner by myself (and loving it because I’m an introvert), when I noticed a little boy who had an arm just like mine.  “Cool,” I smiled to myself.  As I finished my meal and headed toward the door, his mom came running.  Slightly out of breath, she presented her son to me.  I remember it being as awkward as that sentence sounds.  He was wearing a Tigers shirt, so I asked if he played ball.  He did.  He explained that he didn’t have a favorite position, but that he played them all.  After a minute we said our “nice to meet yous” and headed toward our cars.

I remember feeling sad as I walked away.  The mom clearly loved her son, but she seemed worried.  It was like she was saying, “Look, son, he’s like you!”  I wanted to give them a hug and tell them everything was going to be fine.  I just wanted to help them.  And that was the very first time that I thought I could be helpful in that way.  Helping amputees and their families, I mean.  The truth is, I hardly ever used to see amputees.  Like, ever.  I honestly never even knew I was an amputee until I broke my short arm in 2008.  To me, the word implies a cutting off.  Like, you get run over by a truck and they amputate your leg.  I was born this way, so I never viewed myself as one.  Now I know the truth, which is that I’m a congenital amputee.

After that experience, I wrote a piece for RelevantMagazine.com called Finding – And Being – Good Community.  It is the very beginning of LivingOneHanded.com, even before I had the name.  In fact it wasn’t until nearly a year later that I launched the blog.  But, that experience was the crucible for everything I’m doing now.

Which brings me to the other night.

On a Thursday night, in the same Culver’s where it all began, I met with Luke and his mom, Jane.  Luke is going into 6th grade, likes to read and play soccer, and his right arm ends at his elbow.  Oh, and he often rides his bike to the Culver’s that is (did I mention this before?) TWO BLOCKS FROM MY HOUSE.  One day he saw my business card on the board there and took it home.  Turns out, our families live less than five minutes from each other.  Coincidences are so awesome.

Luke and I got sundaes and the three of us talked about life with one arm.  Luke told me about his bike (of which I’m totally jealous) and the fun he had at camp recently.  We talked about how it’s a little uncomfortable when you play games at school where you have to hold hands.  “But, if it’s someone I don’t know very well, I just tell them they can grab my shoulder,” Luke said.  His solution caught Jane off-guard.  She was so proud; it was adorable.

Jane told me about Luke’s great friends and also her concerns for him.  “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” I told her.  And I believe that whole-heartedly.  Luke is intelligent, polite, confident and funny.  I didn’t say this at the time, but I think Jane’s biggest worry will be keeping the girls at bay!

After a while, we moseyed out to head home.  We gave hugs, took a picture and promised to keep in touch.  As I got into my car, I’ll be honest…I was on cloud nine.  The visit was even better than I had hoped for.  And prayed for.  On the way there I had prayed that I’d have the right words to say, that we’d have a good time, and that it’d be encouraging.  I’m humbled that I get to be a part of Luke and Jane’s story.  It’s an honor.

Luke and me and the LOH-mobile.

What’s so exciting about this “circle of life” event, is that I know it’s still just the beginning.  I’m so excited to be a part of this journey LOH has me on and I can’t wait to see where it goes next.

And I encourage you to be on the lookout in your own life.  Amazing stories can begin anywhere.

Even at a family burger joint.

I’d love if you shared your story with us, particularly if it had an unexpected beginning!

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In Help, Hope
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What Gets You Flustered?

July 25, 2012 — 9 Comments

I have a wallet, but I rarely use it.

I get George Costanza Syndrome when I use a wallet.

I usually just cram everything in my pocket.  Right now, for instance, I have random receipts, some Chapstick, my business card case, my debit card, five pieces of folded-up paper with lists on them and a few other things in there.

But, whether I have a wallet or my pocket full o’ crap, the checkout line at any retailer is one place I get flustered consistently.

It’s just one of those places where my difference is spot-lighted.  Spot-lit?  Whatever.  I’m standing there, the cashier tells me how much it is, and then I have to pay them.  If I have cash in my wallet, I tuck it between my short arm and chest and fumble around to remove the bills.  If my method of payment is in my pocket full o’ crap, I either have to dig around in there or pull everything out and put it on the counter to sift through.

I’m sure nobody else even cares, but for some reason I put a lot of pressure on myself in that situation.  Especially if there’s a line behind me.  Everybody is waiting for the one-handed guy to finish his transaction and God forbid if I should drop something…how embarrassing!

The truth is, I know there are some easy fixes to this.  I could always keep my debit card in my back pocket.  Problem solved.  The only thing is, I’ll never remember to do that.  Never.  I could also just relax.  Nobody cares how nimble I am at paying for my goods…except me!

Where’s the fun in that, though?

The truth is, we all get flustered from time to time, right?  It’s a part of life.  If anything, it builds character.  It keeps us humble.  It teaches us about vulnerability.  We learn from it.

So, the next time you get flustered, take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and smile.

You’re not alone.

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In Help, Humor
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I Am Not One-Armed

July 19, 2012 — 49 Comments

I am not a “one-armed” anything.

A recent article about a limb-different boy in Texas winning his events at a swim-meet has people talking about the mis-use of the term “one-armed.”  Ben Ramirez clearly has two arms, but is missing part of one; like me.

The Man, The Myth, The Legend – Ben Ramirez

So, what’s the deal?  Why does the media default to “one-armed” when there’s any kind of arm limb-difference?  Jim Abbott even spoke to the phenomenon in his book, Imperfect.  Jim has nearly two full arms, but a malformed left hand, and still he was referred to as a “one-armed pitcher.”

“One-Armed” Olympic Champion Pitcher, Jim Abbott

In fact, I very deliberately chose the domain LivingOneHanded.com because, well…it’s accurate.  I didn’t choose OneArmedAndLovingEht.com or IWishIHadAnotherArmWhichWouldActuallyGiveMeTwoAndAHalfArms.ThatSeemsGreedy.Org because my arm is not really the issue.  Plus, that last one is really long.

And as obvious as it may seem to us that “one-armed” is the wrong term to use, I’m going to be honest with you here and say…I understand it.  I understand it because I’m still getting used to all the terms myself.  Eight months ago I had never heard the term “limb-different.”  Never.  In my whole life.  When I started visiting message boards and different online groups, it was like learning a foreign language.  LBE?  RBK?  I’ve learned that those mean Left Below Elbow and Right Below Knee (amputees).  (I bet somebody has a super sweet grid of all these terms somewhere.  I want it.)  Just today, in fact, I got an email from someone who used AK in his note and I had to think hard about what it meant.  Ahh, Above Knee!  And I’m still a novice at all the other terms like Symbrachydactyly.  I just googled that and had to look at it seven times to make sure I spelled it correctly.

It’s a whole different world, this limb-different community.  It’s fun and exciting for me, but there are times I feel lost.  And ignorant.  I am limb-different and can probably tell you less about the science and terms and lifestyle than a ton of the moms around here!  But, I suppose that makes sense.  I grew-up this way and never thought of myself as different, so why would I take the time to learn about it?  My mom, on the other hand (so to speak), probably knows more about it than I do, too.

So, I’m thinking two things.  The first is that we need to be patient.  We need to understand that differences are always a challenge and people generally do their best to treat them with respect and dignity.  That said, it’s also an opportunity for us to teach!  To teach those who are different than we or our kids are how to approach our differences accurately and with respect.  You wouldn’t describe someone with blonde hair as “black-haired” and think it was good enough.  “I mean, hair is hair, right?” you might think.  And you’d be wrong.  And someone would correct you.

I don’t view this as a fight at all.  It’s an opportunity.  Let’s seize the opportunity and learn together.

Also, please don’t buy the domain OneFistOfFury.com.  I’m saving-up for it.

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Do You Test Yourself Without Even Knowing It?

July 10, 2012 — 4 Comments

My wife has been asking me to change the fluorescent bulbs in our kitchen for weeks.

When did I choose to do it?

Today.  When nobody else was around.

Of course.

Change us, Ryan!

I’m curious what those who really know me would say, but I don’t think I’m very stubborn.  That said, it seems I choose to test myself on a regular basis.  So, when I got home today, I looked up at that dumb, flickering fixture on the ceiling and decided it was time.  My first concern was the giant glass cover, so I pressed my finger tips to it softly and pushed up ever so gently.  It was plastic.  Hallelujah.  I set that aside and got working on the 48″ bulbs.  I twisted and pulled, twisted and pulled, each time expecting them to shatter.  Thankfully I got them out and only broke one small plastic piece that seemed inconsequential to the whole operation.  Then, as quickly as I started, I put the new bulbs in, the cover back on and voila…let there be light!

It’s not something I consciously choose to do; this self-testing.  I only notice it when I look back on it.  I could always ask for help, but I rarely (if ever) do.  Shortly after changing the light bulbs, for instance, I dumped a 50lb bag of softener salt into our water softener.  I’ve always done it myself even though it’s challenging.  Why?  Because it’s just a part of life.

My bet is that we all test ourselves sometimes.  Usually without even realizing it.  And that’s good.  It means we’re growing.  It means we’re continuing to push our limits.  Sure, sometimes it’s because we’re stubborn or we’re embarrassed, but I think that’s different.  There’s a difference between performing when the pressure’s on and testing your own abilities.

I have two challenges this week:

1.  Look back on the last couple of months and see if there’s an area or two in which you’ve been challenging yourself.  Maybe you haven’t realized it at the time, but looking back you see a trend.  Identify it and own it.

2.  Once you find that area, get intentional.  Maybe it’s wanting to eat better or exercise more.  Maybe it’s wanting to read more or watch less TV.  Whatever it is, make one intentional goal this week.  Something challenging, yet doable.  And then, next week, celebrate the success and choose something else.

Success is fun.  And exciting.  Even doing something as simple(ish) as changing fluorescent bulbs can give you some satisfaction!

Give it a try and let me know how it goes!

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Questions For My Mom

July 5, 2012 — 8 Comments

My mom is awesome.

Vintage photo of mom and me.

To that end, I’m going to be recording a podcast with her soon and I need your help.

I have a bunch of personal questions that I’m curious about, but I’m sure many of you are interested in things that I wouldn’t think to ask.  So…what questions would you ask her?

I’m going to be asking her about when I was born and how that all went down and I have some questions about how she raised me.  How did she instill confidence in me?  How did she deal with people staring?  Was it challenging to teach me how to do things being that she had two hands?

Please leave your questions for my mom in the comments or email them to me through the Contact page.

I can’t tell you how excited I am about this.  I think it’s going to be incredibly helpful.

Thanks for participating and keep an eye out for the podcast!

Ryan

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In Help, Podcast
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How to Open A Pack Of Sports Cards With One Hand

July 2, 2012 — 1 Comment

I’ve always loved sports cards.

As a kid, it was all about finding cards of my favorite players.  There weren’t very many brands, so you bought Topps or Donruss and that was about it.  I specifically remember buying a triple-pack of 1987 Topps baseball cards at a Madison Muskies game when I was ten and rifling through them over and over.

Wally Joyner’s 1987 Topps card.

I’ve written before about my Jim Abbott collection and I always collected Robin Yount cards because he was (and still is) my favorite Brewer.  In the early ’90s, though, card collecting became about the “chase cards.”  The inserts.  We started to break open packs, and even entire boxes, without even looking at the “common” cards.  We just wanted the rare ones because they were worth the most.  And there were about a million different brands and styles and sets and…you name it, they made it.  It became so confusing.

The thrill shifted from opening a pack and finding cool cards of the players you liked, to finding a rare card worth hundreds of dollars.  And that makes sense.  I mean, it also explains our obsession with shows like Storage Wars and Pawn Stars and American Pickers.  Even their predecessor, Antiques Roadshow, captures my attention if I’m flipping around.

We all have that fantasy of finding an original Van Gogh at a garage sale or a box full of money tucked away in the attic.  Chances are, though, that’s not going to happen.  But it could…and that’s the allure, right?  I think we need to remember to enjoy the common things in life, though, and then if we’re surprised by something out of the ordinary, it will be that much more rewarding!  Whether that’s a rare baseball card pulled from a fresh pack or an unexpected visit from your wife at lunch, it means so much more when we re-learn to enjoy the common, everyday aspects of life.

Without further ado, here’s how I open packs of sports cards:

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We Must Lean Into Uncertainty

June 23, 2012 — 3 Comments

I’m a fan of familiarity.

That is to say, I’m not a fan of uncertainty.

And, to a certain extent, it probably means I’m lazy.

The thing is, I rarely take the time to figure out how to do things more efficiently.  When I was younger my parents got me a myoelectric prosthetic arm.  When you’re a kid, what’s not cool about a robotic arm, right?  Well, I’ll tell you: taking the time to learn how to use it when really you just want to be outside playing.  I never hated my myo or anything, I just didn’t need it.  I knew how to do the things I wanted to do already and didn’t want to “waste my time” learning a new way.

I’m still like that.  It’s not a conscious thing, it’s just my nature, I suppose.  For instance, I enter data on a compter all day long at my job.  There’s one particular sequence of keystrokes wherein I have to use keys on opposite sides of the keyboard and it’s quite annoying when doing it with one hand.  About FOUR YEARS into my job, performing this sequence day in and day out, I thought to myself, “Ya know, I could probably reformat my keyboard to put that Tab button from the left side to the right.”  It took approximately three minutes to do so and voila!  Now it’s the easiest sequence I use.

My first thought wasn’t, “Wow, this is great!”  It was, “YOU IDIOT!  You could’ve done this YEARS ago!”  But again, it’s just not in my nature.  I do things how they work for me and that’s good enough.

Sometimes I feel bad about it.  Like, I have one hand so I should be actively seeking out all the ways to do things more efficiently; finding all the one-handed tools people have invented to help me.  My mom brought over an electric pencil sharpener yesterday (for the kids) and I was all, “Oh, hey…nice.”  Truth is, though, I just use mechanical pencils or pens.  And we have one of those electric can openers, but 9 times out of 10, I just use the manual one.  It works fine.

One-handed pencil sharpener. So lazy.

And while I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with my affection for familiarity, there’s something to be said for learning to embrace uncertainty.  At least that’s what my therapist says.  In fact, Brené Brown says it isn’t enough just to embrace uncertainty, we need to lean into it.  And while I struggle with that, I know I need to do more of it.  Try new things and see how they go.  There are about fifty things on my “Next Steps for Living One-Handed” list that I’m nervous to try, but I know I should just do them.  Setup those speaking engagements.  Write that eBook.  Make that appointment.  Record that podcast.  Pen that kids book.  Start the memoir.  These all sound exciting, but they are also unfamiliar.  The “What If” game steps-in and makes me hesitate.

Does that happen to you, too?  Do you get stuck in the familiar and stay away from the uncertain?  How do you push through it?

I’d love if you shared some of your successes and/or failures from leaning into uncertainty!

The truth is, and I know this from experience, if we live every day doing only what is familiar to us…life gets boring.  We need to embrace uncertainly, accept conflict, and get excited about what things are going to look like on the other side.  It can be scary and uncomfortable, but we need to do it.  I just don’t see any other way around it.  And I believe that the more we lean into the unknown and take risks and confront conflict, the more exciting and meaningful our lives will be.

Let’s make life exciting.

Let’s lean into uncertainty.

Tell about one practical way you can lean into uncertainty today!

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In Help, Hope
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Imperfect: An Improbable Life by Jim Abbott and Tim Brown

June 14, 2012 — 2 Comments

The ball felt good when it left my hand.

THUNK.

Apparently it wasn’t as good as I thought it was.

The kid at home plate dropped his bat, reached for the middle of his back, and crumbled to the ground in a heap.  He started crying immediately.  I just stood on the mound while everybody ran to him to make sure he was alright.  Starting to get emotional, I saw my uncle walking out to me.  “Did you mean to hit him?” he asked.  I said no, of course.  “I knew that already, because if you meant to hit ‘im you would’ve hit ‘im in the head,” he said as he winked and cracked a smile.  I smiled, too, through tears, and understood his point. I didn’t mean to hit him.  It was an accident.  That’s baseball.

Like any one-handed boy growing-up playing baseball in the late ’80s and early ’90s (that narrows it down some, doesn’t it?), I idolized Jim Abbott.  Every morning I flipped to the back of the sports section to see how the Angels were doing and if Jim was pitching soon.  I collected every one of his baseball cards and bought the Scholastic book from school.  The card shop owner where I purchased most of mine even surprised me one day with an autographed picture of Jim!  I still have it all.

Why did I sign my name like that?

I stopped playing once I reached my teens, but still loved the sport and followed Jim.  As his career petered out, Jim became a hero of days gone by.  A hero I’d still like to meet someday.  So, when I heard last year that he was writing a memoir, all those memories returned.  I’ve been looking forward to Imperfect and it did not disappoint!

Imperfect is such a well-written book.  Jim (and Tim) takes us through his no-hitter with the Yankees in 1993 one inning at a time, interspersed with stories of his childhood, pitching at the University of Michigan, winning a gold medal in the Olympics in 1988, and his professional career.  It flows nicely and each part seems necessary.  280 pages, no filler.

Reading Jim’s book was an incredibly interesting experience for me.  My lack of a left forearm has never been an issue.  Never.  It was never something I thought about, it never stopped me from doing anything, I never had horrible experiences of being or feeling like an outcast because of it, I never (consciously) felt like I had to prove anything to anyone because of it…never.

Jim did.

It was eye-opening for me to hear about Jim’s insecurities with his hand.  He was very self-conscious and perhaps more self-aware than I ever was growing-up.  “I remember points along the way.  I remember the faces, the events, the casual observations of classmates.  I remember the long stares.  And being glad my jeans had pockets.  I remember the kids who took one look at me and said, ‘Your hand looks like a foot,’ observations that amused them to no end and yet for me had become a part of te routine.  And I remember baseball coming to find me, pulling me along,” he writes.  He had a difficult time coming to terms with his physical condition and that was powerful for me because I’ve had such a different experience.

I admire Jim’s vulnerability in Imperfect.  He shares his successes and his regrets alike, both with honesty.  I was surprised to learn about the situation that led to his departure from the Angels and appreciated his candor in telling how much he wished it had gone differently.  And I laughed out-loud when he told about the impression he did when jogging to the dugout during his no-hitter.

The end of chapter 13, though, was my favorite part of Imperfect.  In it, he talks about…the kids.  “I didn’t see them coming,” he admits.  “I didn’t expect the stories they told, or the distance they traveled to tell them, or the desperation revealed in them.  They were shy and beautiful, and they were loud and funny, and they were, like me, somehow imperfectly built.  And, like me, they had parents nearby, parents who willed themselves to believe that this accident of circumstance or nature was not a life sentence, and that the spirits inside these tiny bodies were greater than the sums of their hands and feet.”  Amazing.  He goes on to talk about his routine of meeting kids in every city and how it affected him as a person.

I’ll tell you right now that the most difficult part of the book for me was reading Jim’s own recounting of his decline as a pitcher.  It was literally painful at times.  You can feel the desperation and frustration in his story telling and even though you know how it ends, you want to believe that fastball comes back.  It was even worse for me because I’ve grown-up a Brewers fan and that’s where he realized he was done; crummy ol’ County Stadium in Milwaukee.  I felt bad that he had such a crappy time in Wisconsin, but…they were really bad at the time.

Lastly, I was intrigued by Jim’s concern for his wife and daughter.  “I had accepted my disability.  I wasn’t sure if I had the authority – or the courage – to accept a disability for a son or a daughter, too,” he said.  He worried about passing on his disability and went so far as to get genetic testing to rule it out.  In this way, Jim is much more selfless than I am.  I never thought about any of that when my wife and I started having kids.  The difference, though, is one of experience, I think.  Mine was relatively easy, so it didn’t matter to me.  Jim’s was difficult, so he was much more aware and sensitive to it.

As a unique talent, Jim always wished to be known for his ability as a pitcher and not as a “one-armed pitcher.”  He desired normalcy, though came to realize that his normal, though different than others’, was and is just as important; if not moreso.  I love one of Jim’s conclusions as the result of his no-hitter: “In homes from Anaheim to Baltimore, in places where children wished only to be normal, to fit in, maybe the world took another step toward them, not away,” he says.

There is no doubt, Jim Abbott has made the world a better place.  Not just because he threw a no-hitter, but because of the man he was and is.

Thanks, Jim.

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