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I never talk about my time in hell, but enlightenment is a powerful thing. In 1988, I was seriously injured in a 50-foot fall and spent the next six months in the hospital.
I spent the last three to four of those months at Magee Rehabilitation Hospital in Philadelphia. There was a black male nurse at Magee whose name I forget, but he always referred to himself as “Dr. Black.” The guy was so funny that he really should have been a comedian. Sometimes he could be too loud for some, but I got a kick out of him.
Eventually, I realized that he did something more for me than just make me laugh. He became the bridge for me to make friends with the black patients. I was 17 at the time and had very little, if any, interaction with African-Americans. We were around the same age and would play cards together. All of us had something in common – we were paralyzed. I realized that in the whole scheme of things, we’re all the same. We all bleed red.
The pope is right. We should build bridges and not walls.
Thanks, Dr. Black, wherever you are.
Bill Merkel
Wright Township