Fourteen years ago Wednesday, Christopher Reeve — a man I once callously dismissed as a second-rate has-been — was critically injured when the horse he was riding in competition balked at jumping over an obstacle, and Chris was thrown. It was a mundane accident; at worst, he should have suffered only some bruises and a sore ego. Unfortunately, however, his hands tangled in the reins, which changed his trajectory so that he ended up crashing down directly on his head. We all know what happened next. Chris’ neck was broken, and in a literal blink of an eye, he became the world’s most famous quadriplegic.
He also became, in the years following the accident, a much better man than he had been before: a tireless advocate for medical research and an inspiration for those with spinal-cord injuries (and for people with a lot of other problems, too, and even for people with no problems at all). Chris was no saint, a point he emphasized in both of the books he wrote after the accident. He was frequently irritated by the media’s insistence on calling him “a real-life Superman” (even though, for my money, that’s exactly what he was). But he was a man who was handed one of the biggest lemons life can give you, and somehow he found a way to turn it into something of value, not only for himself, but for the rest of the world as well.
Chris is gone now — he’s been dead nearly five years, as strange as that is to contemplate — and his beautiful and devoted wife Dana is, too. I’m not at all confident that there’s anything waiting for us beyond this life, but if there is any kind of mercy in this universe, any sense of fairness, they are together, and Chris is free of that damned chair.
I bring all this up again because the news that so many years have passed since Chris’ accident surprised me — it doesn’t seem that long — and also because I believe Chris and Dana’s lives are ones worth remembering and commemorating. So in that spirit, I going to ask everyone reading this to go visit the website for the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation. Learn about the good these two managed to accomplish, and what continues to be done in their names. And if you can spare a few dollars in these difficult times, make a little contribution to help carry on their work. Or better yet, make a pledge to support the efforts of Matthew Reeve, Chris’ son, as he runs in the New York Marathon on behalf of his father’s foundation.
Chris didn’t live long enough to walk again, but he was convinced that it was possible. I am, too. Let’s help make it happen.
