Michael Horton was a virtuoso. He oculd play the cello like no other person could ever play before. His parents had a few doubts he would become a famous success, but they had no fears in sending him to the best music school in the country. The Julliard School of Music was where Michael wanted to go. The Korean War was going on, but no one cared much about it until one day Michael was sent a letter. He was drafted. Luckily, all the time he spent in Korea, he was not sent to any stations where shooting was going on. Michael thought that as long as he wasn't in any heavy fighting areas, he would be safe, an dthe day he'd go to Julliard would be soon. Time flew by for him, and the war was ending. Michael anxiously awaited his career in music. The last day approached. On his last day, Michael was talking with a friend, when a person standing nearby accidently fired a shot into Michael's arm. He was rushed to the hospital where the doctors told him that he would be paralyzed in his left arm for life. His career was over. His hopes and dreams had fallen apart.
Tuesday, July 20, 1985. I am traveling to my grandmother's apartment in Minnesota. As I pass through Bismark, North Dakota, I pass by the site of the collision of a train and a large truck carrying radioactive material. We open the window to ask what happened. Later as we hear the news reports on the radio, we find out that anyone within 100 feet of the accident was subjected to radiation. We stop at a near-by hotel and call up the Department of Health to find out if we are in danger. Tests are done on us and on our car. Soon a man comes to talk to us from the Health Department to tell us we are fine. He is old, but lively. He seems to have a paralyzed hand. Then he tells us of an accident that happened a long time ago. He gives me many helpful hints about cello playing. His name is Michael Horton.
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