"Anderson, Bill - Whispering Bill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Bill)

father of the year.i had never been super-rich by big-time show business
standards, but i had a few dollars in the bank and thought i had a few
good investments for the future.i wasn't complaining.

but at almost the stroke of midnight Saturday, october 13 nineteen 84
while i was rambling around inside my sprawling country home near
lebanon, tennessee, packing my clothes to go on a road trip to play and
sing country music, everything changed.at the very moment i was
whistling through the house making sure i had clean underwear and enough
toothpaste to last me a couple of days, my wife, becky, was returning to
a small condominium we owned near nashville after having seen a movie
with a friend.She was barely more than a mile from her doorstep when an
eighteen-year-old boy, so drunk he later admitted he didn't even
remember crawling in behind the wheel of his company's faded white
pickup truck, appeared from out of nowhere and smashed head-on into her
barely moving white cadillac coupe.the collision was so violent it
completely crumpled becky's car and came within micro-inches of killing
her.She was left with crippling brain damage, head injuries so severe
that they changed her life, my life, and the lyves of everyone close to
us forever.

her very survival hung in the balance for several days.in the space of a
heartbeat, i found myself facing the exceedingly real possibility that
my wife might die and the stark realization that even if she did survive
she might never again be normal.

and we had a six-year-old son.

i loved my little boy more than anything in this world, but he was still
not much more than a baby.he was in the first grade, sure, but kids that
age can't do very many things for themselves.they need mothers and they
need fathers to love them and care for them.never in my wildest dreams
had i ever imagined i might someday have to become both mother and
father to my son ...and for how long, god only knew.

me, a gypsy, a travelling minstrel man, having to learn how to crawl out
of bed at six eigh m., fry bacon, scramble eggs, wash a little face,
comb hair, tie shoelaces, proofread homework, wash and dry clothes,
drive to school, remember lunch money, pick up from school, attend cub
Scout meetings, and join the pto.plus, in order for me to do all of the
above, i'd have to leave the tranquil estate in the country that seemed
more like home to me than anyplace i had ever lived and move into a
tiny, cramped apartment with my son, so as not to disrupt his life any
more than it might have already been disrupted.

i did it ...i did it all ...but it wasn't easy.and it took its toll.

four months after the accident, probably buckling from the physical and
mental strain of caring for both my son and my brain-injured wife, i
suffered a ruptured disc on the lower left side of my back.for almost