He was a forty something, golden son of the Southern California beaches.  Good looking, smart, successful, athletic, and did I mention ladies…charming.  Right out of Gentlemen’s Quarterly.

We met in the late ’80’s as fellow competitors in the high end LA commercial real estate market.  Who was to wear the unofficial victory wreath as “salesman of the year” for selling the largest Wilshire Boulevard office building or shopping center?  In those days there was none better.  He could lease tall buildings in a single bound and leave you loving him for it!

A four hundred horsepower car, wet pavement, an upside down black Cobra replica on Interstate 10; an instant quadriplegic.  Everything but a heartbeat taken away.  All that seemed to matter, gone.

Seventeen years later, with one finger to type with, battling endless infections and bedsores, struggling to breathe and enduring excruciating 24/7 pain (yes quads have pain, strange as it seems) yet no one has EVER HEARD HIM COMPLAIN!

Instead, he earns a high six figure income investing in the stock market.  He supports children financially who would have no future without him.  He commissions cutting edge scientists and inventors to create Tesla type technology that hopefully will cure spinal cord injuries with the ease of taking a sauna.

So the next time you’re feeling sorry for yourself because you can’t have that new IPad,  or begin to grumble and complain that you don’t like your job or that your welfare check and food stamps aren’t enough, take 5, and learn from a real, larger than life super hero…my friend Bill.

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