BILL
Copyright (c) by Rick Yost

In 1996 I traveled to Washington D.C. accompanying and assisting a wheelchair-bound friend. There we attended a “Disabilities Convention”. In this huge convention center there were hundreds of vendors selling state-of-the-art wheelchairs, automated household devices and all manner of gadgets designed to aid the disabled. And the place was packed with folks dealing with all sorts of disabilities. I’ve never seen so many canes, crutches, braces, seeing-eye dogs and wheelchairs in my life. It was an extremely humbling experience. During the two-day event we met hundreds of interesting, intelligent, friendly, brave and optimistic individuals.
There is one fellow we met there I’ll never forget as long as I live. His name is Bill. Bill was in his forties with a pleasant face, bright smile and great laugh. His eyes were bright blue and no matter how you stared at him, he never changed his cheerful expression. And you couldn't’ help but stare. Bill has no arms or legs. He is a head on a torso. He made no attempt to mask this with prostheses or clothing. He wore red shorts, sewn up tight around the hips and a red t-shirt with the arms sewn tightly around his shoulders. I suppose Bill felt there was no need to try to hide the obvious. On his head of neatly trimmed blonde hair was a white baseball cap. On the front of the cap was a yellow “Happy Face”. Above that, written in marks-a-lot was “This is Bill. Get out of his way”.
Bill was constantly on the move- strapped into the seat of his motorized, state-of-the-art wheelchair that he deftly controlled by blowing into a breathing tube. He was all over that convention center, eagerly meeting people, laughing, telling jokes, and inspiring everyone around him.
Accompanying Bill was his young wife and two children. They behaved like a normal, happy family. The two little boys, who were around eight and ten, seemed very comfortable with Dad and his chair. Since Bill couldn't reach out and touch his family, they were regularly touching him. Both boys would run around like little idiots, laughing as kids do and then every ten minutes or so, they’d run up and rub their hands on Bills chest, just to show their love. It was the most heart-warming thing I’ve ever seen.
I didn’t ask how Bill came to be in this situation, and Bill wasn’t the type to whine to others about his life.
As a couch potato, I have my share of aches and pains. I gripe about losing the TV remote and having to physically cross the room. I lament my need to climb a few stairs to get somewhere. When my legs or feet hurt from either having to actually walk somewhere or the need for exercise, I think of Bill, whom I know would love to feel the sweet pain of his limbs. I think of him sometimes while I hold my guitar in my arms.
My friends, I tell you of Bill not to make you sad, but to lift your spirits. Bill was anything but sad. He was obviously intent on enjoying life. The last thing he, or most of those less fortunate like him ever want us to do is feel sorry for them. Life is too short.
I have a great respect for all who struggle, but I will always have the greatest respect for Bill.
If you ever meet him, you’d better get out of his way.