The fight to cure ALS is a fight to get people to care.
When you or someone you love is diagnosed you care. You care with all of your heart, all of your being.
Before then, most don't. Not because of apathy, but because their care is focused elsewhere.
When you or someone you love is diagnosed you care. You care with all of your heart, all of your being.
Before then, most don't. Not because of apathy, but because their care is focused elsewhere.
Their care is focused on putting food on the table, on their marriage, their kids, their families, any of the thousands of things that tug at our hearts and minds each day.
Among these thousands of things, all of us--ALL of us--invest our care in someone who is sick or has died.
Among these thousands of things, all of us--ALL of us--invest our care in someone who is sick or has died.
I can say this with certainty because everybody has lost somebody.
I lost my father at 21. He was 54 when he died.
I lost one of my best friends at 26. She was 25 when she died.
I have a long list--just like you do--of those who left this life too early.
I lost my father at 21. He was 54 when he died.
I lost one of my best friends at 26. She was 25 when she died.
I have a long list--just like you do--of those who left this life too early.
Before I was diagnosed with ALS I longed to change the world for those I had lost. To use my pain to help others.
I knew that we all will die some day, but yearned to be able to make that death visit us only when we could look back on life with gray hair and a wistful smile.
I knew that we all will die some day, but yearned to be able to make that death visit us only when we could look back on life with gray hair and a wistful smile.
After I was diagnosed that yearning became tangible. visceral and urgent.
It also became shared--shared with millions of others who, like me, were pouring themselves into trying to change the world for someone they loved. Pouring themselves into trying to get people to care.
It also became shared--shared with millions of others who, like me, were pouring themselves into trying to change the world for someone they loved. Pouring themselves into trying to get people to care.
This shared yearning takes many forms, spans many languages, races and geographies, but at its essence we are all fighting for the same thing:
We. Are. Fighting. To. Live.
And we are fighting to get others to help us live.
We. Are. Fighting. To. Live.
And we are fighting to get others to help us live.
On Tuesday I will stand in the cold in Times Square holding a sign that starts with the phrase, "I will change the world for." It will then list a name of a person and the disease they fight or fought.
I don't know whose name or what disease will be on my sign.
I don't know whose name or what disease will be on my sign.
I do know that it won't be someone fighting ALS. That may surprise many, but Tuesday is not just about ALS.
Tuesday is about all of us.
All of our fights.
All of our hopes and our dreams.
All of our desires to change the world.
Tuesday is about all of us.
All of our fights.
All of our hopes and our dreams.
All of our desires to change the world.
You see changing the world sounds insane when I say it alone, but when tens of thousands say it together...then it starts to sound real. And when millions say it, we will make it real.
I hope you will join us. Hope you will dare to dream with us, to change the world with us.
I hope you will join us. Hope you will dare to dream with us, to change the world with us.
I hope you will care with us. Scratch that--thank you for caring:
1. Post using this sign: bit.ly/35dhJuj
2. Tell us who you want to change the world for
3. Use #CuresForAll
1. Post using this sign: bit.ly/35dhJuj
2. Tell us who you want to change the world for
3. Use #CuresForAll
