It’s dangerous business walking out your front door. I’ve heard that said before, I’m sure of it, but I never quite understood how true it was until the summer of 2005. I find it hard to believe it’s been twelve years already, but it has. Even though I’m a man of almost sixty now, there’s a part of me that is only twelve years old. In a sense, a part of me was reborn that summer. I ain’t talkin’ about in a good Christian sense either. No, it ain’t like that at all. I reckon there’s just some things you can’t witness and go on livin’ the same way you did before. I know I couldn’t.

Sometimes I wake up in the night and try to take off running across the house. No reason. Of course, I can’t run. Can’t walk hardly. On a couple of occasions, I actually hurt my wife, Kay. It was an accident each time, and she’s since learned to get far away from me when I’m having one of my night fits. It being an accident don’t make me feel any better about it though.

Most days I find it hard to find any kind of happiness. I’m not angry, not anymore. Defeated, maybe. I guess it’s safe to say that I’m just not interested in sticking around this earth much longer. I turned on the TV the other day and I saw where this boy from Alabama set a tortoise on fire and filmed the whole thing. He put it on the internet. They say he was laughing while he did it. The worst part? There are thousands of people protesting because he got arrested. No one is held accountable anymore. I guess my point, if I had one, is that the world has gone to shit.

I got a letter the other day, and it said ’Dear Mr. Stanton, we want to have you on Good Morning America so we can talk to you about what happened and how it changed your life.’ So, Kay says well, Paul, are you gonna do it? I told her I wasn’t sure just yet. I said I didn’t know what good it would do. Nobody wants to hear what I have to say.