Landing in the Deadbox...and Starting Over

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I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION that many people have more than one life, and I happen to be one of them. I feel that your first life starts on the day you are born, and your next life can be triggered by either an ordinary, or in some cases an extraordinary event. In my case, my “first life” started on the day I was born, April 17th, 1944, and my “next life” began on April 21, 1967, a fateful day that would change my world forever. It all started at 8 AM on a sunny spring morning, as I began my daily motorcycle commute to Temple University, and ended twenty minutes later, as I lay fighting for my life, in a pool of my own blood at the intersection of Summerdale Avenue and Rhawn Street in Northeast Philadelphia, after being “T-Boned” by a careless driver. The fact that I was still alive can only be described as “miraculous,” following the violent collision and my body’s weightless flight over the rear of the car. It was as though a giant, gentle hand had caught me in mid-air, protecting my helmetless head, and carefully bringing me back to earth, as dozens of cars swerved to avoid hitting my shattered body.