On September 10th, at the Montrose Harbor on Chicago Lakefront, my family comes together for the ALS Walk4Life. We do this in memory of my Dad, Jerry Lannon, who died of ALS in 2007. Generally, to raise funds, I write a note about the horrors of ALS, more popularly known as Lou Gehrig's disease.
This year, I want to talk about birds.
One of the things my Dad loved about this house (and possibly a reason he never left) was that this little split-level sits on good amount of land. A drainage creek that runs through the back of a stretch of houses, and this provided about an extra 100 feet of land the width of the plot. This puts the house on somewhere between a 1/3 and 1/2 acre (we think). The creek and extra green space has provided our yard with a lot of wildlife. Everything from raccoon, skunks, the occasional beaver, herons, ducks, geese to a plethora of song birds.
It was these birds that my Dad, late in life, took interest in. As ALS robbed his body of the ability to move, he retained all of his cognitive faculties; essentially, my Dad was left trapped inside a body with immeasurable stretches of time. He spent most of this time in the family room in front of the large sliding door that looked out on to a small circle garden surrounded by bird feeders. Like anyone trapped in a prison and little else to occupy time, my Dad started to watch the birds come and go in the backyard, mentally cataloging which species he had seen on that day. When my Mom would come home, he would report to her on all the birds that he had seen.
One bird my Dad was particularly interested in was the elusive humming bird. These flighty, easily frightened birds are picky at best, and stuck-up or snobby at their worst. Coming through Illinois in the Spring, the birds look for specific flowers - delicate, generally red and trumpet shaped. My Mom planted red salvias by the back door to attract the birds, and each day they would show up, my Dad would excitedly (well, if you knew my Dad...excitedly for him) report on how many and what colors he had seen. Watching for those birds became one of the last things that made my Dad's life livable.
There is, or rather was, little hope for people with this diagnosis. There is no cure, and until just recently, the medical community was not even sure what caused ALS. There is some frustration felt by those affected by the disease (either directly or indirectly), because there is nothing to be done. The Les Turner Foundation, run out of Northwestern Hospital in Chicago, IL, has been tirelessly working to raise awarness and, if nothing else, provide just a little bit of hope. Like the hummingbirds that would buzz around the back door, that small glimmer of hope arrived on Aug. 22nd when research believe they found a common factor in all ALS cases. More than hope, though, this research is directly funded by dollars raised by the ALS Walk4Life. So, for all of those who have donated in the past, and for those who are going to donate today, you have made a difference. And as my brother Kiernan said, "I promise you that two years ago, everyone who donated to the team helped make a difference in people's lives. You've never met many of the people you've helped... and you probably never will... but you definitely know one person for whom your donation mattered greatly... me."
Since my Dad has passed, the humming bird garden has grown over, and the weeds have choked out the more delicate plants the birds like. This summer, though, one iridescent green humming-bird has been poking about, even buzzing by my Mom's legs as she waters the more hearty petunias and black-eyed susans. I'd like to think it might be a sign my Dad is still hanging around the house, checking in from time to time. It would be poetic justice if, after being robbed of his ability to move, my Dad comes back as the hummingbird, the only bird that can fly backwards. The sky would, at last, be the limit for him.
So, with that, I ask that you consider donating to my family's Walk4Life team. Just click the previous link to visit our team's webpage. No donation is too small, and your donation will make a tangible difference in the life of someone who, at the end of the day, is just looking for hope - looking for their own hummingbird.
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