The young man cradles the bowling ball in his lap, moving his wheelchair forward to the foul line. He carefully swings the ball from his right hand, giving it a firm push down the alley. The ball, rolling much more slowly than you’d normally see, stays steady and true, and finds the sweet spot just to the right of the headpin. The pins rattle and scatter, and the people seated behind him raise a big cheer.
Chase Hemme spins the chair around and grins, raising his arms in triumph. He wheels back to the scoring table, getting high-fives from a bunch of teen-aged friends, and for a moment you can almost forget about the wheelchair.
Almost.
The gathering today is to raise money on his behalf, although it’s difficult to know if a 15-year-old really understands all that’s going on around him. Likely he knows more than we give him credit; he’s a quiet kid, and his mother Penny says he tends to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself.
This is a happy day, because what is happening at Muncie’s Liberty Bowl — a lively, fun place that brings a measure of pride to a city a bit down on its luck — is going to play a very significant part in helping this young boy move toward manhood. He is gaining something very critical, certainly more important than wealth, fame or success.
Dignity.
Chase doesn’t complain about being in a wheelchair. Since riding his bicycle out in front of a car a few years ago, it’s simply a part of his life. But one ritual has become very difficult: taking a shower. His mother must lift him from his chair into the tub, a very uncomfortable situation for a 15-year-old boy.
But because the family does not have the resources to build a wheelchair-accessible shower, it remains a tough problem for Chase and his mom.
You might think this story sounds familiar; yes, I wrote about Chase in this space three weeks ago, because his late father — Harry Hemme — had asked me shortly before his death in January if I knew of some way to help raise the money needed to remodel the family’s bathroom.
A group of architecture students from nearby Ball State University (American Institute of Architectural Students, or AIAS) were willing to provide the labor needed for the remodel, through a wonderful program called “Freedom by Design.” But the challenge was raising several thousand dollars for the fixtures and supplies.

I am forever inspired and amazed by our readers. They are well informed and passionate about their love, auto racing. But more than that, they are good people. Sure, there are a few schmucks rattling around now and again, but they are the tiny minority. Seeing people reach out to help a kid they will never meet, well, that’s proof there are a lot of good people out there.

That’s where you — the readers — came in. When that column ran, a wonderful thing happened: People sent money, ranging from very small checks to very generous checks. All were angels, as far as I’m concerned. Racers sent shirts and pictures and things for today’s raffle, racers from all over the country and from all kinds of racing series.
Three gentlemen stepped forward to donate the fixtures. They asked that their names remain private; we’ll just say they are kind, good people, the kind of people who make you feel awfully good about tomorrow and the next day.
With the donated fixtures and the money raised, soon Chase will be able to take a shower without his mother’s help. A little bit of money will be left over, and the students plan on doing some work in the kitchen, allowing Chase better access to appliances and cabinets.
To be honest, raising money was not the specific intent of my initial column. Yes, it crossed my mind that people might send money, but I figured it would be a miniscule response. My cynical heart said that only a few people would even care about a kid they’ve never met.
I stand corrected.
The real reason I wrote the column is because I felt a powerful, driving urge to tell Harry’s story. Writers are kind of weird that way. And the fact that so many people were obviously moved by Harry’s heartfelt plea and Chase’s difficult position, validates my instinct that this was a powerful story that resonated within all of us.
That’s the best part of all this. We all know this is a hard, tough world, but sometimes we forget that despite our armor, despite our distancing ourselves from others, despite our cynical and negative views, we really are a caring and compassionate race.
I am forever inspired and amazed by our readers. They are well informed and passionate about their love, auto racing. But more than that, they are good people. Sure, there are a few schmucks rattling around now and again, but they are the tiny minority. Seeing people reach out to help a kid they will never meet, well, that’s proof there are a lot of good people out there.
For all of you who helped, let me assure you, it mattered. After talking to Chase for a few minutes as he prepared to bowl with his friends, he offered a handshake. You could tell the boy was a little overwhelmed, and a bit shy and embarrassed at all the attention. But he smiled, and he squeezed my hand.
“Thanks for everything,” he said.
That’s when I knew we did something really special. You and I, together. It’s a great world, isn’t it?