The Real Amy

When I was but a teenager, I became godfather to a little baby named Amy. When I started writing books about my own daughters, I changed their names for privacy reasons, but chose “Amy” as my elder daughter’s pen name in honor of my goddaughter.

Now the original Amy needs help. I am often asked to share requests for donations and support of all sorts, and simply can’t honor each one while remaining evenhanded and fair to all. But in this case it is my honored duty as godfather to help spread the word. Amy has faced lifelong difficulties with grace and good humor I could only hope to emulate should I be faced with even a fraction of what she has–and is–facing. If you are able, here is the information.

Some of you may recall a brief piece I wrote about falling short as a godparent, in which I shared my all-time favorite Amy story:

When she was a toddler, Amy Lynn gave me a crayon drawing of an apple tree, executed in the standard style: brown trunk, green leaves, red apples, spiky yellow sun in a blue sky. It contained one visual anomaly: a tiny, very carefully inscribed square, done in pencil. I was in nursing school and had just completed a 300-level child psychology course, so I immediately homed in on the anomalous square as a subliminal message of perhaps dire import. At the first opportunity I sat down with Amy Lynn and asked her to tell me about the drawing, and she did—in the sunniest of terms. Then, when the time was right, I pointed to the square, and as gently as I could, asked, “And what is this?”

She looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then, as if addressing the dimmest of all godfathers, said, “It’s a square.”

Again, here is the link to Amy’s current story.