"It was just another average spring day in 1936 when my mother, just 8 years old, started bounding up the stairs at her home like she had done a hundred times before. She hit the third stair and suddenly couldn't go any further. Her legs wouldn't move. Polio had struck again. Her world would never be the same. In spite of all the difficulties that followed, neither the iron braces and crutches, numerous surgeries nor today being confined to a power chair, could stop my mother from doing whatever she set her mind to. She graduated high school, married, raised three children, learned to drive,...