Writing towards the Light: “The Cop, the Hooker and the Ridealong” Flashback Friday Featuring Julie Brickman From Issue 294. 5
![Joseph Daniel Fiedler](/sites/default/files/joseph_daniel_fiedler-big-42.jpg)
I wrote this story when my husband was dying of ALS (Lou Gehrig's Diease). Until then, I’d thought of myself as a novelist, but I no longer had the mental bandwidth to immerse myself in long work. So I turned to the short story, a form I immediately fell in love with for its vast array of possibilities. “The Cop, the Hooker & the Ridealong” was the first story I wrote close to home, the first that tapped my own life for material.
It was a short time after my husband’s diagnosis. Already the disease had taken over our lives. It was un-conveyable, the progression: how there was no adjusting, because each symptom necessitated change. For walking alone, we went from bannisters on every wall, to canes, to leg braces, to walkers, to a manual wheelchair, to power wheelchairs, to hoists to get him in and out of them, to a rampvan to drive them around. He was to live for seven years after the diagnosis, until he could no longer move a voluntary muscle, except for the faint flutter of an eyelid. How could I capture any of this?
Writing was the only way. But the material was too depressing; even I didn’t want to read about it. That’s when I decided to weave it with other material. And one morning, I looked out the window and a police car was sitting out front.
And there it was, the opening: “At 7 a.m. Sunday morning, a police cruiser settles in front of our house.”
“The Cop, the Hooker and the Ridealong” has been reprinted in Julie Brickman’s story collection, Two Deserts, released by Hopewell in 2013.
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