Bob Horn Speaks Volumes, but Quietly

Got a letter from Bob Horn a few weeks ago. Not a long letter, but it was packed with news, opinions and inspiration.

Now, I appreciate all my correspondence, for even hate mail stokes the glow of moral superiority. But Bob Horn’s letters are special, and not only because he tends to be flattering.

Bob let me know he was moved by a column about “the blind fellow”--AIDS patient Mario Ceremano. “I was intrigued by his feeling of isolation,” Bob wrote. Quickly shifting topics, Bob, a retired Cal State Northridge political science professor, expounded on a piece concerning the financial woes of the CSUN athletic department. He had kind words for Athletic Director Bob Hiegert, then added: “By the way, I have long favored dumping football.”

Finally, Bob commiserated with my close-but-no-cigar lamentations concerning the Nippon Ham Fighters, my fantasy baseball team. “I can sympathize . . . because my team, the Slugs, on a very different point scale, ended up third, one point out of second and two out of first.”

Many of you, especially those who lack a proper appreciation for fantasy baseball, may wonder why anyone would find inspiration in these words. But, as always, you have to consider the source.

This being Thanksgiving week, it was high time to drop in on the Horns.

*

His younger brother, Tom, had flown in from Pittsburgh, Pa. His sister, Ethel, came down from Juneau, Alaska. The matriarch, Dorothy, was in from Grosse Point, Mich. Today, Bob Horn and his wife, Judy, will be hosting 17 family members and friends for turkey and fixings.

I dropped by their Winnetka home on Tuesday. We sat in the living room, with Bob, as usual, leaning back in his easy chair, tethered by a plastic tube to his ventilator. The mechanical lung sat on an end table, inhaling and exhaling with a rhythmic wheeze.

Bob, virtually paralyzed, has been “on the vent” for four years. A fast-moving form of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease, put him in a wheelchair and weakened him to the point that he was quickly losing the ability to talk, swallow or even breathe. His choice was death or life on the vent.

Bob Horn introduced himself to me last year by, as he would put it, “kicking out” a letter in response to a column concerning assisted suicide. Bob still has slight movement in his feet, and can write by operating a specially rigged computer mouse.

That led to a column about Bob’s views on assisted suicide. He thinks it should be legalized, though it’s not for him. A few months later, I checked in on the Horns again--and learned how the family survived the Northridge earthquake. Judy and their son, Chris, manually operated an “ambu bag” to keep Bob breathing, but a bronchial infection landed him in the hospital.

Bob was looking good Tuesday, better than I expected. An acquaintance had told me that Bob had lost much of the movement in his eyebrows. This was troubling, because aside from his computer, Bob “talks” with his eyebrows. The Horns rely on a code that employs the alphabet in a grid pattern. “One, two, three,” Judy will say, and Bob will signal the row. Then Judy recites the letters, waiting for another signal. Fortunately, Judy usually needs just a few letters to guess at the word.

His eyebrows aren’t as agile, but agile enough. His brown eyes are still attentive, darting from person to person. Often, a smile curls his lips. He silently shares in the laughter.

Judy, with Bob’s prompting, filled in some of the highlights of the year. His old basketball buddy, elementary school teacher Martin Turley, visited often and got Bob out of the house more. They rode Metrolink and Metro Rail and stopped by the renovated Central Library. Bob, a Soviet scholar, wondered whether the library had a copy of his 1982 book, “Soviet-Indian Relations.” It did.

As a Father’s Day gift, the Horns’ three grown children--Jeff, Chris and Laura--took their dad to a Dodger game. It was a glorious day. The Dodgers won and Mike Piazza hit a home run.

Bob grinned and spelled out the significance. Piazza, it seems, doesn’t just play for the Dodgers. He also plays for the Slugs.

*

“I’m a teacher,” said the button on Bob Horn’s sweater. He’s now busy writing his second book, describing his ordeal with ALS. It takes him six hours “at best” to write a single-spaced page. The first 40 pages look promising.

Bob is a religious man, and I was curious about his opinion concerning efforts to allow prayer in public schools. He was precise in phrasing his answer. To him, “a moment of silence”--but not prayer--would be appropriate in the schools.

Only later did the irony strike me. This man has been silent for years.

But then I realized this wasn’t true. Bob Horn isn’t silent at all.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311. Please include a phone number. Address e-mail to YQTU59A ( via the Internet: YQTU59A@prodigy.com).

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