Povestea de după poveste. Skip Hollandsworth, feature writer la Texas Monthly, spune aşa într-un interviu din D Magazine:

It’s a story about this boy, John McClamrock, who got paralyzed during a Hillcrest High football game in Dallas in 1973, and the injury was so bad that he lost the use of everything below his neck, and couldn’t even lift his head without blacking out. He spent the next 33 years lying in his bed in his little room in this little house just a few blocks away from Hillcrest, cared for by his mother. I’ve been driving by that house, which looks lost in time compared to all the mansions around it, for twenty years. I had no idea who lived there until I read his obituary a couple of years ago. And I wondered, “How do you live a life where you never again move?”

De aici a pornit, dar textul îţi vorbeşte despre mult mai multe lucruri. Despre familie, dragoste, loialitate, datorie, curaj, frustare, credinţă, sacrificii, rezilienţă. Totul într-o poveste pe care nu o poţi duce până la capăt fără să te gândeşti la propria ta familie. Pentru că asta fac toate textele bune, îţi arată ce ai în comun cu oamenii de lângă tine.

Mai mult decât un subiect generos şi o documentare impecabilă, articolul este şi scris cu măiestria care vine după zeci de ani de practică. Fragmentul care face legătura dintre prezentul în care reporterul a găsit subiectul şi trecutul în care începe povestea e una dintre dovezi:

None of the neighbors knew that mailmen once delivered boxes of letters to the front door and that strangers left plates of food or envelopes stuffed with money. They didn’t know that high school kids, whenever they drove past the house, blew their horns, over and over. They didn’t know that a church youth group had stood on that front yard one afternoon, faced the house, and sung a hymn.

Restul aici: http://www.texasmonthly.com/2009-05-01/feature2.php