On the surface, it would appear that Isabella and I are as different from one another as can be. Although some people may convince themselves that they won’t have anything in common with those that are “too different” from themselves, both Isabella and I embrace these differences, which, it turns out, is one of the many things we have in common. Apart from just the generational gap, we are also from totally different races, backgrounds, and cultures. She is African American, of Caribbean descent, and identifies strongly with her roots in Trinidad. So how do two people from completely different walks of life develop such a strong bond? Most simply it’s that none of those things matter, which is glaringly obvious to nonconformists like us who habitually defy societies’ expectations. Our friendship was formed on the basis of complimentary communication styles, shared values and beliefs, and mutual interests just like any other, even though we might appear to be an unlikely pair. All of these commonalities form a solid foundation for a friendship, but in order to comprehend why I find Isabella’s story so intriguing and what draws me to her is a journey of introspection into the deepest of my own recollections.

When we first met, we were united by the shared experience of focusing on Isabella’s recovery from a devastating car accident. Dedicating myself to assisting her however possible helped me to take pride in my work, and after nearly a year of working together two to three hours a day for three days a week I began to affectionately think of her as an older sister. In order to fully understand what motivated me to want to dedicate myself so wholeheartedly to her recovery, and what mysterious forces of the inner workings of my mind contributed; I have had to take an unflinching look at some of my deepest memories and realized some associations that are not easily acknowledged.

At its essence, Isabella’s story is one of determined resilience. As a middle class white male, some might assume my life to be the epitome of privilege and luxury. Unfortunately, as comfortable as my life may be I am no stranger to loss and suffering. As a child, I suffered from Tourette’s syndrome, which affected my schoolwork and strained my social life. I was one of the lucky few that grow out of it with age, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like now if it wasn’t for that. At age nine my parent’s got a divorce; a process that involved constant fighting, the filing of restraining orders, selling the house I grew up in, and moving into a small apartment in a new neighborhood. A few years before the move, my family had adopted a kitten off the street that I had taken a special interest in. I used to talk to him sometimes just to vent, especially when I was grounded and he was keeping me company. Suddenly, shortly after my parent’s told me about the divorce, my cat died prematurely.

For what seemed like a long time my mother and I had to move in with my grandparents until she could find a new place. By Middle School I was on my own in a new town trying to make new friends. Summer camp was a haven for me, and I used the healing that it afforded me to bounce back as much as possible. I took a chance and ran for class president in 7^th grade, and gave an unconventional speech that took me from completely unknown to student body president. Then, in 8^th grade, came September 11th. The whole nation was in mourning. Later that same year my father passed away. 2 years later my maternal grandmother also passed away. I did my best to cope with these tragedies, and focused a lot of energy on my schoolwork. I maintained High Honor Roll throughout all of Middle School and continuing into High School. I can recall vividly the influence of my 9^th grade Health Class teacher. Maybe it was because I was one of the few students who applied myself to the class and took the subject seriously, or she might have sensed my penchant for public speaking, whatever the reason, she singled me out and asked if I would be part of her HIV/AIDS Awareness club. I didn’t feel any particular connection to that issue, and so she recommended a book to me on the subject. It was the true biographical story of a boy the same age as I was at the time that was a hemophiliac and contracted HIV due to a contaminated blood transfusion. It was a long book of around 500 pages that detailed many events of the boy’s short life, his struggle with illness, the activism/awareness he initiated to change the public perception of the disease, and his private thoughts and feelings about being terminally ill.

The book deeply affected me, and I invested myself fully in the cause of the club. Although it was unusual to head a club before senior year, I became president of the club both junior and senior year. By the time I graduated I had acquired enough experience in teaching the peer education program that I could also oversee the training of new club members. Despite all of the setbacks I did well on the SATs, kept my grades up, and was accepted to my first choice of colleges. I decided to defer enrollment and took a gap year after high school. During that time I spent 5 months in Africa, 3 of which were spent doing volunteer work. I was able to use my experience from the Aids Awareness club to start similar peer education initiatives in several locations hard hit by the AIDS epidemic. Simply having the education to realize that there is no danger in associating with those affected, and by appearing with them in public, sent a positive message and hopefully made a difference. It was as if the positive change was amplified from my initial decision to take up the cause into a broader and broader scope. Focusing on a worthy cause also put my own struggles into perspective for me, and gave me a sense of purpose. It all started with that one teacher, Mrs. Dowler, and the book that she lent me. I learned the value of using biography as inspiration and the value of doing work to benefit others. I can relate to Isabella’s experience because even though we have very different backgrounds and struggles I know what it means to be a survivor and to have to persevere through sheer toughness and resiliency. I want to record her story, as a testament to the determination of the human spirit.