As I grow older, all the numbers in my life grow larger — age, weight, waistline, mistakes made, dollars spent, stories written, letters received. Everything goes up except my IQ. With all the numbers that weigh me down, there is one that will always remain my favorite — number of Bully Pulpits I have written. It is one of my favorite things to do. I’ve lost count, but I know I have written more than 200.
My first BP, which ran in the December 2000 issue, was an attempt to tell you, the faithful readers of NM, that I was just like many of you, someone who had been dealing with paralysis since the age of 20 (I was 55 then), someone whose life had been interrupted violently by an accident that seemed to come out of the blue. I wanted you to know where I grew up, something about my childhood, and I hoped that you would not be disappointed that my words would now fill the space that Barry Corbet’s words had filled for the previous nine years.
Barry was beloved by so many readers — many who came to NM in its infancy — and rightly so, while I was not well-known at all. At that time, I had only written three or four stories for the magazine. Even though I was relatively new to the cul