The phone in my weekend home rarely rings. I give the number out sparingly, under the theory that weekends are a respite from a busy work week where the phone doesn't seem to stop ringing. Nevertheless, every once in a while it will ring, and with each ring my mind slips deeper into the dark abyss of that dreadful voice-mail message I received that misty country morning when I'd stepped out for a while. "M.E., M.E. are you there? Pick up if you're there. It's your sister Ruthie. Harold's been in a terrible accident and you need to come home right away." Then the next one, a half-hour later, "M.E., it's Ruthie again," her voice wavering, "Harold's been transported by helicopter to a trauma center many hours away. Larry and I are leaving shortly and I'll try you from the road." Several hours later, "M.E., Sara (his ten-year-old daughter) was in the vehicle with him and we don't know the extent of her injuries. You've got to get here soon, Harold's in a coma and on life-support, and the doctors tell us his chances are slim," hysterical now, "Where are you?!" No one, not even the authorities, seem to be able to piece together what really happened at approximately 4:20 a.m. on that desolate country road. Harold, a beloved high-school teacher and community leader, was mere miles from our family vacation cabin in a remote mountain area of Pennsylvania when another vehicle collided with his. His ten-year-old daughter was not badly injured, thank goodness, nor the inhabitants of the other vehicle, but Harold's situation was sadly different. In spite of his wearing a seatbelt, my brother sustained massive head injuries, many bone fractures to his ribs, hip, sternum, nose, and a puncture wound to his stomach among other injuries. More than one miracle and several months later, he's still with us, and is now at home where he has several types of therapy scheduled throughout each week. He was taken off life-support about three weeks after the accident, and began to show signs of waking from the coma around six weeks succeeding the accident. Physically he's making great progress, but the mental rehabilitation is taking more time. Our entire family has pulled together, and among all of us, there has been one of us with my brother every day since the accident. During my most recent visit, he called me by my nickname (M.E.), so I had confirmation that he knew who I was, however he only responds appropriately approximately 15% of the time. Our family has been very blessed by so many individuals who have reached out to us during this most unfortunate time. Our lives are no longer as they once were, but I feel we have a responsibility now to incorporate that change into action. Let's change our world, together!