June 1, 1998. Twas to be another day on our journey West! I was traveling with three sons, moving from Carbondale, Illinois (home of Southern Illinois University) to Las Vegas, Nevada (to William S. Boyd School of Law, University of Nevada--Las Vegas). Though I have no memories of it, we apparently were on the road between Fort Collins Colorado, and Laramie Wyoming, and the wind was blowing about 90 mph. Apparently I had asked my 2nd oldest son if he wanted to drive that morning, and he declined--for which he has felt "appropriately" guilty. Though I was the only person in the Chevy Astro mini-van wearing a seatbelt--all the rest were in fact asleep--it was, strangely enough, the seatbelt that is thought to be the source of my problem. Avoiding trucks that were speeding along their way, I managed, somehow or another, to get beyond the ability to avoid an accident; our mini-van toppled on itself, and apparently tipped over somewhere in the range of six to eight times. My wife, Lynda, received a phone call that day and was informed that we were all in the hospital in Caspar, Wyoming.

The doctors told my boys the first night that they should say "good night" to their dad because it was unlikely that I would wake up the next day. My 3rd oldest son, Gavin, broke his back in the accident. Other than that, the biggest injury was my brain injury. At the end of this first week in Wyoming, they helicoptered me to Salt Lake City, which is where I grew up, to the intensive care unit at LDS Hospital (which is where my dad, an eye surgeon, had been on the staff). Strangely enough, I recently received an e-mail from a gal who was a nurse in the intensive care unit when I arrived; she had previously met me in Carbondale, Illinois, when she had served a church mission there.

Approximately six weeks later, I "woke up" in the hospital and was told about my accident. From August of 1998 to March of 1999, I "rehabilitated" in Salt Lake City. We had a group, Rehab Without Walls, who supplied daily "nursing" care and "worked with" me at getting the whole thing back together--we walked (for exercise), talked, studied, went grocery shopping, etc. That fall I met Dean Morgan, the Dean of the law school I was supposed to be joining, and came to Las Vegas--where I met other members of the faculty, went to a party sponsored by the school, and found myself wondering aloud why we weren't living in Las Vegas getting ready to join the law faculty.

The result of the inquiry that followed was that my brain surgeon had me undergo a bunch of "testing" at the hospital. And when they sat down with me, the doctors were not extremely encouraging: I had real difficulty with short-term memory, wasn't any good at math, etc. etc. I remember that when the doctor proposed a formal meeting with my "rehab" people, my dad, brother, and sister-in-law came to the meeting to confirm what the history showed: I was never any good at math, my memory could "suddenly" get much better when I was highly motivated and excited about the topic being discussed, and the rehab people had been pleased at my ability to grasp relatively new and challenging concepts. The doctor wound up just affirming that the testing just revealed that it wouldn't fall out easily or automatically, and he also clarified that the results of the testing would remain confidential. One result of all this was that I became skeptical myself as to whether I could really "make it" back to the professional life I had known for many years.

Things weren't much encouraged when Lynda told me that she wanted to leave. By the end of that year, she was moving to Oklahoma to be with another person--a person she'd been introduced to via the internet. This was a difficult thing to have thrown in the mix; but somehow, or another, you manage to just keep going.

By the end of that year, I was "taking" a class in constitutional law (the subject I had taught for fifteen years)at the University of Utah law school in Salt Lake City. I also "found" an article of mine that had just been published that summer. I was able to present its major thesis to a meeting of the law faculty at Utah, and it was well received. By March, I also gave a presentation based on that article to the law faculty at Brigham Young University law school, where a friend of mine teaches. I think people were gradually being convinced that I could still think about, and teach, legal concepts.

So in March of 1999, I moved on to Las Vegas. I'm still teaching at the law school there. The Dean has recommended that they restore my tenure, even though I didn't "show up" to start teaching in August of 1998. I also completed the book I had worked on for about ten years and have published three law journal articles. I still don't feel extremely confident about the things I write or teach, but perhaps a bit of humility is what a law teacher most needs. About a month after my move to Las Vegas, Lynda returned, and we've been together ever since. All in all, this whole experience has been a big adventure; I just hope that I can keep going and accomplish the things that must be done. There are good experiences to be had still, and I am grateful that there have been people ready and willing to help. I also hope that I can be a source of support and help to others, as I am thankful for others.

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