I would like everybody to try to understand about the anguish that is inflicted on disfigured people in our society by uneducated people. So many people don’t understand the pain they cause by staring, making rude gestures, or negative facial responses. This is a Ken and Barbie world; if you don’t fit the mold, you are treated differently. Speaking for many if not all disfigured people, we just want to be accepted in this world, without reaction.

I grew up like most kids did. I had love and support from my family. My father was a jock who played basketball and softball. He excelled in pitching in the City-County fast-pitch league. I grew up being very active in baseball and basketball in my early years of childhood. I seemed to be getting injured all through my life. I guess I felt indestructible. No Fear! My first injury occurred at the age of 3-4 years old. I rode my bike down a stairwell and slit my right eyelid open needing stitches. Then, at age 9 I was racing my brother on my bike and rammed into a parked car headfirst. I broke my neck and had a severe concussion. I was in traction for weeks and in a neck brace for another year. That was a tough time for me however after I recovered from that, I had no limitations. I was an all–star catcher, riding bikes and just being a normal kid. But my life was soon to change, all too quickly.
 

My life changed in one second. I was 11 years old. It was Saturday February 9, 1967. I had been playing with my friend Sam most of the day at my house. He asked if I could spend the night at his house. Because I was on restriction by my Dad, my Dad told me "No". But as most kids will do, I waited for my Mom and talked her into letting me spend the night with Sam. So I picked up the stuff that I needed to stay over and off we went. Sam’s mom wanted us to sleep in a tent outside so she could be alone with her boyfriend. After we had dinner the boyfriend took us outside to the tent, started a fire (in a fire pit next to the tent) with gasoline and went back in the house. He left the can of gasoline outside close to the tent. After the fire burned down, we went to bed in the tent.
 

We were wrestling and goofing around as boys do, and caused one side of the tent to fall. I went outside to set the tent back up. Little did I know my life was about to change. I began to hit the stakes to the tent back into the ground. Suddenly, a loud noise startled me. I turned to look and I saw the night seemed to have turned into day. I heard screaming. What was happening? I stood up, turning to see why Sam was screaming so terribly. When I reached the edge of the tent, I looked at a running figure of a person on fire. My nightmare had begun. I then turned to look at the light; in the center of that light was a five gallon red gasoline can; the same can that the adult who was watching us had used to light the fire two hours before.