Do you 70s/80s babies remember the book “There’s A Monster at the End of This Book”? One of my all-time favorites when I was a kid. I couldn’t wait for my mother to read it to me. I listened with sheer joy at every turn of the page, eager to reach the end and discover what was waiting for me. It didn’t matter if it was the 5th or the 55th time she had read it to me, I still waited with bated breath to see what was coming next. I actually still have a copy here at the house at 45 years old. Unfortunately, the story I have to tell has the polar opposite ending to what Grover used to bring to a young BT 40 years ago. 

I actually have two stories to tell with the same theme. It may take a little time, but I promise with a little patience, it will all come together for you. 

I grew up in Florida but moved to Atlanta in high school. I was quickly adopted by a group of young men who had similar interests and could fulfill my social needs, as I hope I did for them. At the very pinnacle of the male pecking order of our squad was Prune. He was a man’s man. Football player. Ladies man. Smooth talker. Good looking fella. Jokester. Everything every guy wanted to be. He was a real character. He was known to tell a story or two, and was full of bad advice that the rest of us were more than ready to receive. A specimen of true manhood. You’d be a fool to tangle with him in his prime. 

He lived a good life. Married a beautiful woman, made a handsome young son, and a beautiful daughter on the way. The world at his fingertips. We were a tight group and loved each other hard. Everything seemed to be unfolding for his “American Dream”. Then one day he went to pick up a Coke can out of his center console in his truck, and it “felt like the can weighed 100 pounds”.  3 years later, he was dead. 

So, I learned about ALS the hard way. I don’t need to educate anybody who has lost people about the agony of people leaving this earth. Most of us know exactly how excruciating this feeling is. 

About the same time Prune left, I got back in contact with one of my bros from my unit in The Marine Corps. One of our mutual friends posted a picture of him in a hospital bed. Of course, concerned, I started asking questions. 

Hogg is a complete stud muffin. The Marine Corps infantry is full of everything the American public thinks it is. Alpha males dead set that they are undoubtably the toughest sons of bitches on earth. Hogg was no different. He wasn’t the biggest Jarhead on the block, but full of piss and vinegar like the rest of us. He was a “boot” to me, meaning I was senior to him, and outranked him, so in the grand hierarchy of Marines, he would want/need to do what I and his direct leaders told him to do. All good Marines fall in line and do what is asked of them, but Hogg was gonna make sure he let you know by his demeanor that what you were asking was stupid. It takes a special type of smart ass to pull off what he used to. 

Hogg excelled at a rapid pace through his career as a Marine (even with his questionable antics). He did a tour in Iraq without getting his balls blown off and luckily came home in one piece. He’s writing a book about his experiences, which is bound to be a NY Times bestseller. 

He’s a true Alabama boy, so in keeping with that theme, he took a job at Auburn (don’t hold that against him) after his discharge from the Corps.  He had since married his dream gal, made two gorgeous daughters, and was well on his way to being the quintessential American man.  

In the midst of building his storybook life, he was diagnosed with ALS. Imagine having to look your young family in the eye and saying, “Hey guys, I’m gonna have to check out on y’all”! 

But instead of checking out, this warrior strapped up his boots! He decided (as Marines do), I’m not laying down for this shit. He made a stand. He’s still making a stand! The average life expectancy of an ALS diagnosis is 3 years. He’s 15+ years deep! 

The monster at the end of this story is not Grover. It’s death. It sounds so dooming, but I’m driving home a point. 

If you and I don’t get active in the fight against ALS, Hogg will die. Thousands of other brothers, sisters, moms, uncles, cousins, dads will die! They need our help! These are good people. These are cherished loved ones, like the people in your family. They are in dire need of people like you and me to step up and step in to try to help save their lives. If we don’t get active, amazing people will leave this earth way before their time should be up! Please help me help them! 

My tribe has been brutalized by this disease twice. It’s unimaginably painful to watch. The only saving grace I have is to try to assist in the care and cure of the afflicted. I’m begging you to get behind me in this fight. If Prune and Hogg were in your or my shoes, I can assure you they would help. Thank you for reading this.