Anderson Peter Bowling - Life at 8 mph: how a man with cerebral palsy taught me the secret to life

Advance Praise for Life at 8 mph

Peter Anderson has written an honest, unsentimental, sometimes terribly funny and deeply poignant account of lasting friendship

Dr. Rosalie de Rosset, author of Unseduced and Unshaken: The Place of Dignity in a Young Womans Choices and Professor of Communications and Literature, Moody Bible Institute

Far more than an engrossing read, it offers real-life tools for finding your own happily-ever-afteraccessible tools, made for imperfect people. This book is for everyone whose heart beats. Anyone. Anywhere. Of any race, gender, or economic situation. I feel blessed for having read it.

Tara Taylor Quinn, USA Today bestselling author

Laced with rich wit and wisdom a profoundly different philosophy that might change the way everyone views their struggles.

Lyla Swafford, author of It Takes More Than Legs to Stand

Life at 8 mph

H ow a Man with Cerebral Palsy Taught Me the Secret to Happiness

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Peter Bowling Anderson

Copyright 2019 KiCam Projects. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Cover and book design by Mark Sullivan

Cover illustration by Rebecca Hipp

ISBN 978-0-9997422-7-3 (paperback)

ISBN 978-0-9997422-8-0 (e-book)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Anderson, Peter Bowling, author.

Title: Life at 8 mph : how a man with cerebral palsy taught me the secret to

happiness / by Peter Bowling Anderson.

Other titles: Life at eight miles per hour

Description: Georgetown, Ohio : KiCam Projects, [2018].

Identifiers: LCCN 2019000135 (print) | LCCN 2019007901 (ebook) | ISBN

9780999742280 (ebook) | ISBN 9780999742273 | ISBN 9780999742273(paperback)

Subjects: LCSH: Anderson, Peter Bowling. | Male caregivers--United

States--Biography. | Herrin, Richard (Reverend) | Cerebral palsied--United

States--Biography. | Clergy with disabilities--United States--Biography. |

Christian men--United States--Biography. | Male friendship.

Classification: LCC RC388 (ebook) | LCC RC388 .A53 2018 (print) | DDC

616.8/360092 [B] --dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019000135

Printed in the United States of America

Published by KiCam Projects

Georgetown, Ohio

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For Mom,

who stood up more than she sat down at dinner.

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Contents

chapter one | Mr. Persistent |

chapter two | The Outsider |

chapter three | The Elephant Awakens |

chapter four | Protector of the Disheartened |

chapter five | GO |

chapter six | A Second Chance for Three |

chapter seven | Down from the Ledge |

chapter eight | The Quest Continues |

chapter nine | Abandoning the Unsinkable Broken Boat |

chapter ten | Adventures in Knitting |

chapter eleven | A Safe Haven |

chapter twelve | The Bottom of the Unknown |

chapter thirteen | How to Hold a Fork |

chapter fourteen | Under the Dog Pile |

chapter fifteen | Something Important | 1601

chapter sixteen | The South Shall Rise and Hug |

chapter seventeen | A Part to Play |

chapter eighteen | The Greatness of Junk |

chapter nineteen | Finding the Fishing Pier |

chapter twenty | A Part-time Job |

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Our destiny is frequently met in the

very paths we take to avoid it.

Jean de la Fontaine

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Chapter One

Mr. Persistent

T he only thing I knew for certain was I didnt want to work for him. It took me all of two minutes to reach that conclusion.

Id come to Richard Herrins small, two-bedroom duplex on Wheaton Street, just around the corner from a nearly empty Chinese restaurant and a packed Whataburger, because I needed a job, any job, and I was desperate. Id been in Fort Worth for over a month, with nothing panning out. I needed a full-time job to cover my bills, yet something kept nixing each prospect, leaving me increasingly dispirited. One day in the lounge of my roommates graduate school, I saw a notice for a tutoring job. The position was only for ten hours a week, so I grabbed a tab and forgot about it until that night when emptying my pockets. After another unsuccessful day of job hunting, I thought it might be time to adopt a different strategy. I read the tab again: REV. RICHARD HERRIN SEEKS TUTOR, 10 HOURS WEEKLY, GRADUATE STUDIES. I knew of another part-time job I thought I could get, and I was just starting to play in a band in Dallas. Perhaps between the three jobs, Id be okay.

I called the number on the tab, and a severely slurred voice answered. I said, Hello, hoping the connection would clear.

Yet I heard the same, garbled, indecipherable response. This wasnt a poor connection. Somewhere inside me, the first alarm rang out. There would be many more. I tried saying hello again but was met with a string of slurred speech that overwhelmed me. I considered hanging up, before I heard the first word I understood: Richard.

I introduced myself and told him Id seen his job notice, and I asked if hed like to meet. What I really wanted to ask was what was wrong with him, because I couldnt follow a word he was saying.

But then I heard itthe second word I understoodand this one made a much more profound impact on me than his name.

Palsy.

I almost dropped the phone, partly because I feared it might be contagious through the connection (I was a bit of a germaphobe, to say the least), and partly because I knew what that word meant. I certainly wasnt an expert on cerebral palsy, yet Id seen people on TV with it and read a few stories and I instantly understood Id already bitten off far more than I could chew. This tutoring position was going to be much more than I could handle.

I stammered, ListenuhIm sorry for bothering you. I need to gonow

Yet with the persistence to which Id soon become accustomed, Richard cut me off and said the first full sentence I grasped: Can you come tomorrow?

I shook my head as if he could see me or to remind myself of the correct answer, though what tumbled out of my mouth was something entirely different. Undoubtedly born from my exhaustive, fruitless job search, I answered, Yeah, I can do that.

Richard had to repeat his address eight times before I copied it all down correctly, but the next day at 10 a.m. I was at his home near East Gourmet Buffet, the sleepy Chinese restaurant, totally unprepared for what I was about to experience.

I knocked on his peeling, beige door, yet no one answered. I knocked again but heard nothing. A wave of euphoria swept over me. I wanted to scream, Yes! Ive been released!!! Id done the right thing and faced my fears and come despite not wanting anything to do with this terrifying situation, and now I could return to the want ads with a clear conscience. I turned to leave, when it happened.

The door opened.

By itself.

It was like something out of a horror movie. The door even creaked. There was a rope tied to the inside handle pulling the door open. I halfway expected a mummy to stagger out wielding a hatchet. Im not going in there , I swore to myself. We can just meet outside. Im fine right here .

This was the first of roughly two thousand times I heard Richards motorized wheelchair approach. I didnt know what to expect, though Id seen people with cerebral palsy before. For some reason, I couldnt get the image out of my head of a masked Hannibal Lecter being wheeled out on a dolly. If he cracked, Love your suit, I was sprinting to my car.