The Fearless Adventure: My Journey with Polio
The following is adapted from From Polio to Philanthropy: Seven Fearless Decades in Life and Business by Richard Crocker.
When I was a young adult in college, I wrote the word success in big, bold letters on a piece of paper and stuck it to my refrigerator. I had no idea what the word meant, nor did I have the time to figure it out. I was attending college full time and working full time. I was married and already was a father. With hands that full, there was no room for contemplating things like big objectives. There was just enough mental and emotional space to drive me to find success, whatever that meant.
I did know what success was not. My childhood had provided ample opportunities for me to figure that part out. By being poor, I learned the value of hard work. By being the son of a lazy and resentful man (in my opinion), I learned to be self-reliant. By coming close to death from polio, I learned fear was overrated.
So while I may not have had a clear idea of where I was going, I knew how I would get there: I would work hard. I would rely only on myself. I’d take care of my health. And I’d fear nothing.
Polio
Prior to COVID-19, along with the Spanish flu, the 1952 polio epidemic was considered by some to be the worst epidemic in the history of our nation. At just eight years old, I was part of that epidemic. Although it was a long and difficult time of my life, I truly believe polio was a gift to me. Just as my dad’s negative behavior taught me to work hard and be un-relentless in my pursuit of success, surviving polio taught me just how valuable good health is. Because of that episode in my life, I am fanatical about staying fit and healthy.
It came on one night when my parents were out of the house. I was young and didn’t really know what polio was. I just knew I felt sick, as if I had the flu or something. I probably had a fever because my body ached all over. My mom must have seen something more startling when she returned because my parents took me to the local doctor right away. He immediately diagnosed me and insisted I go to the hospital at Stanford. Thankfully, they listened to him; otherwise, I may have ended up completely paralyzed or dead.
Soon enough, I was quarantined in the hospital. No one could visit me. Thankfully, I was so sick that I can’t remember much except the hot packs. That was the standard treatment for polio back then: wrapping the arms and legs with hot packs. The hospital staff would put them on and take them off, hoping the heat would kill the virus.
My stint in the hospital lasted about three weeks, which meant I was in there on Christmas Day. But my family put off Christmas until I was out of the hospital. It was a big gesture to me because Christmas was actually a fun, happy thing we all enjoyed. We always had a tree and presents.
Looking back, I see why they did it. I was too young to understand it at the time, but unlike with COVID-19, back then, surviving polio was like surviving a rare and fast-growing cancer today. People went out of their way to be kind to me and showered me with attention. One of the local boys who was a few years older than me actually went door to door with a mason jar collecting money. He told everyone he was doing it for his “buddy” who had polio. I couldn’t believe it when he gave me the jar of coins. It may have had only about ten dollars in it, but it meant the world to me. I had never felt so special.
But not everyone thought I was special. My teacher at Mac- Quiddy Elementary School, Ms. Ann Soldo, who happened to be a friend of my parents, kicked me out of the classroom one day after I’d returned to school. I’m still not sure what I had done to deserve it. She told my parents that she felt I thought I was entitled somehow because I was getting so much attention after escaping death from polio. Whatever it was I had done was probably worth being kicked outside, though. I had the chance to hang out in the courtyard, breathe the fresh air, and admire the trees and scenery. I’ve always loved the outdoors. So per- haps she didn’t realize she was rewarding me.
I’m actually glad I didn’t have the maturity to realize how dangerous my condition was when I was a kid. Now I know that I could have been in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the neck down, or even dead. Yet here I am living a very active lifestyle. My wife and I have taken numerous adventures. We’ve climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, hiked for five days in Machu Picchu, taken bike trips across Europe and the United States (including one from San Diego, California, to St. Augustine, Florida, during Hurricane Katrina), but we’re not done yet. There were many more adventures later on.
To learn more about Richard Crocker’s incredible life story, you can find From Polio to Philanthropy: Seven Fearless Decades in Life and Business on Amazon.com.
A polio survivor at only eight years old, Richard Crocker was given a second chance at life. His journey from collecting soda bottles for pennies to developing subdivisions and commercial properties for millions will be a profound source of inspiration for anyone with an entrepreneurial dream.
Today, Richard’s philanthropic foundation supports charter schools, helping many young men and women become the first in their families to attend college. Richard and his wife, Theresa, feel strongly that students who imagine a better life for themselves will create a better world for us all.
