I am 85 years old, and Martin has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
As children, the church choir was the center of everything. I was always there on Sundays, sitting off to the side in my wheelchair, waiting for my turn to sing. By then, I had grown used to the stares—my injury came from a fall at the wrong angle.
Then one day, Martin appeared.
He walked straight over and said, “Hey. You sing alto, too?”
That simple moment changed everything.
