Contact To Movement

by Carl D. Schultz

About The Author

Carl D. Schultz was born in Beaufort, South Carolina in 1963. A

graduate of Meridian High School, Meridian, Mississippi in 1981

and Mississippi State University in 1986. He enters the U.S. Army

as an Infantry Officer on the day that he receives a Bachelor’s Degree

in Political Science. He survives a Traumatic Brain Injury that

includes a six month coma on 31 October 1987 in a car wreck near

Bamberg, West Germany. Though handicapped he now lives happily

in Meridian with his wife and two kids.

“You know who you are, you know what you are.

All else is secondary.”

About The Book

Autobiography discussing events leading, and perhaps easing or combating my injury

Descriptive copy appropriate for public display, used for marketing, discovery, and sales purposes. This is your best chance to get people interested.


“Massage it before I open it. The watery fluid mixes-up with the P.B. or cheese to get smooth in the pouch. I ought to shove a jar of commissary peanut butter in my rucksack next time. I’m Mechanized. Everything won’t be on my back all the time. APC’s are a wonderful thing. We can carry more ammo, more Dragons, and even more chow. All go faster and farther.”


“My left windshield frame gets impacted by the left side of my face. My seatbelt somehow allows my left ear cut-off and hung by the root for show. Then unconsciousness deletes the next six-months. Firm death blips-in for just a few seconds a few times here and there. Therefore, “Last rites” is recited a few times with “Healing of the Sick,” if those two things aren’t the same.” Describe the work in straightforward and consumer-friendly terms.


“The gummy mud sticks to my feet so bad that it holds then foot sucks down hard. I got to wiggle and hear the suck noise when I pull-up hard to get my foot out. It squeezes so loud that my feet come-up only with a lot of wiggle and pull.”


This work is descriptive:


“We make quick shapes with our hand stuck out looking for balance. With hands in the air like a foreign skinny wide-eyed cutesy. A dude who makes faces with no noise and wears black with a white face make-up and thick red lipstick. Like those ooh smile, eye-flutter French guys. They got jail stripe shirts and furry little brim poker round top hats that’s got orange feathers.”