A Different Kind of 9/11 Story

A note to anyone struggling right now…

Like so many of you, my whole world changed the day the towers fell. Not in the way you might think though. I used to play the banjo professionally, but a career-ending hand disorder called focal dystonia sent me scrambling to pick up the pieces. It all started on 9/11/2001.

My struggle pales in comparison to those who lost loved ones, and today is certainly about them and the people who died and those brave souls who stepped up to assist in so many beautiful ways.

But I posted the below note in a Facebook group of musicians who suffer from FD and thought that I might share with you too. We are all facing our own focal dystonias, especially right now.

Here goes…

9/11/2001 was the day I first experienced focal dystonia symptoms. I had just moved to Nashville with a band of great friends, and we were heading into the studio to record our first big album. I drank my coffee, warmed up on the banjo, then turned on the news. The first tower had been hit. Banjo in hand, I watched in utter disbelief. We considered canceling our studio session, but our producer urged us to come in. It was the opening day of a week-long session.

I can’t remember the exact moment, but during the recording of our first song that day (“Ramblin’ Fever”), I remember thinking that my index finger wasn’t doing what I was telling it to do. I pretty quickly told the guys that something was going on, and we chalked it up to studio jitters.

That night, I read about focal dystonia on Google and knew I had it. It took a lot of money and doctors (of all varieties) before I was finally diagnosed at Johns Hopkins a year later. Though some lucky souls have found their way around the disorder, there is no cure. Shortly after accepting my fate, I left the band and Nashville with a sad heart and a broken spirit.

They say something stressful triggers FD. I’ll always wonder if seeing the towers fall on television was my moment.

I’ve had bursts since when I’ve decided to find a way through it. Switched picking hands, Botox, worked with some of the best doctors in the field, read every book I could find, etc. For whatever reason, I still haven’t broken through. Maybe one day. I don’t play much anymore, as my symptoms are as strong as ever.

But… focal dystonia sure did give me a lot of good.

I wouldn’t have found my wife had I not left Nashville, and we wouldn’t have adopted our son. I can’t even FATHOM a world where those two aren’t by my side.

I wouldn’t have found my calling either, which is writing novels. After a few years of a serious decline emotionally, physically, and spiritually, I finally came to peace with my diagnosis. I dug out of my hole and found my muse in writing. No, I can’t play the banjo as fast I used to, and I wish like all hell that I could. I still tear up thinking about the thousands of hours I put into my instrument, but I’m grateful for my broken road and what ultimately led me to my place now.

To all of you with FD, hell, for anyone who is struggling right now, I have an inkling of what you’re going through. Even if you can’t overcome whatever your focal dystonia is (I hope you can), there is abundant and beautiful light ahead. For the record, I’m 41, and I’m not giving up. One day my fingers will fly again. In the meantime, I’m having a ball playing electric guitar and teaching my son his first chords.

Thanks for listening.

***

Here is a video from our band’s reunion show last year. No, I wasn’t on stage, but I was front row with my wife and son, a giant smile stretched across my face. The song they’re playing is one I wrote with the mandolin player, Scott Simontacchi.

Since I’m a novelist, I have to throw in a little drama. As you’ll see on the link, we had to bill the reunion show as The No Dough Travelers formerly known as The Biscuit Boys. That same year I was diagnosed with FD, Dwight Yoakam sued us and took our name.

Sending you love from me and the rest of The Biscuit Boys (Drew, Charlie, Steven, and Scott), who are also exactly where they should be at this moment too.

boo

Comments

12 Responses

  1. It is q:45 am and I just finished your heavy and yet light hearted book An Unfinished Story.So many tough issues abandonment,infertility, death,, grief , redemption, father /son conflict and regaining perspective
    after cripplng losses.
    I am a woman who was in the child welfare system as a child and then adopted at 6 yrs old . I alsoworked in the foster care system in the 80’s , you have absolutely captured the plight and courage of the kids and the foster parents who love them. My greatest heroes are the people who love and foster grieving and traumatized children. Thank you for this story.
    P.S. our adopted miracle son is 34 , and the joy and blessing of my life.

    1. I’m so touched by your note, Mary. Thank you. My son is adopted too, a true miracle. He is now seven and is the light of our life. I’m such a huge advocate for adoption. Best decision we ever made.

  2. I just finished my first Boo Walker book – An Unfinished Story. I loved it. I love to read and read a lot! Always looking for authors and stories that speak to me and this book definitely did. Your characters are rich and loveable – and you can relate to them easily as they are really like us.

    Thank you – am now going to attach the Red Mountain series. Thank you again and please do keep writing.

  3. Hi, Boo
    I’m seriously in awe of your books. I read “An Unfinished Story” and couldn’t wait to devour more of your beautifully written stories. I just finished the Red Mountain Chronicles 1-3. Your stories truly speak to my heart. Please tell me you’re penning more wonderful stories about the people of Red Mountain. What happens next for Brooks, Carly and Jasper & Emilia?
    Thank you for sharing your wonderful gifts with us.
    Denise

  4. Hello Boo Walker ~

    I was searching for well-written books for my neighborhood book group, thanks to COVID, and I got stuck reading your first novel. From what I’ve read so far, I’m putting this into my Amazon cart. Then I saw you’re a blogger. Yay! I was a blogger for a few or more years and was also writing a book that was inspired in 2008. In 2016 my brilliantly talented and gift to the world, 44 year old son became ill and caring for him and our daughter, became our retirement. He passed away in 2018 and the world held nothing for me. Diagnosed with PTSD, I’ve recently been in counseling and am writing again. I’m working on the last chapter of the novel, now a novella, I started in 2008. Joy is seeping into my bones again and I”m healing. Life is not for sissies, is it? I look forward to reading your stuff.

  5. Hi, Boo. What a coincidence your posting was. I am about 1/4 through your novel Red Mountain Rising, and am already half in love with each of the characters therein, just as I was with Red Mountain.

    I’m 83 years old, and suffering from arthritis, joint replacements, etc, etc, but still in my own home and being assisted with the things I no longer have the strength or incentive to do, by my daughter and her family, who also live here in Redding, CA.

    My stress challenge came in Nov. 2018 when I lost my beloved younger brother after a long fight with lung cancer which moved into a brain tumor. He lived in your lovely state of Washington, in Spokane, and I was unable to even to say goodbye, for I was taking care of my late husband who was also dying of a similar cancer. I went into a real slump, distancing myself from family and friends, and am just now coming out of that and gettingback in contact with them. I found so many of your characters likewise made it through, by forcing themselves to get back into life, sometimes with good results and sometimes not too good. Your disclosure of the challenges of getting back into life after a sad shock is wonderrul and has been an inspiration to me. Thanks. Keep the books coming!!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Boo Walker

For my occasional newsletter and a free copy of Red Mountain Recipes, sign up here. No spam, ever.