The Lion & The Little Boy

     This is a story of a little boy who spent almost all of his life, first battling a terrible disease, then living with it, and finally with all strength gone, slipping away.
     The boy lived and fought what can be called a lifetime, just to breathe.
We often have thought about who makes up the kind of justice that allows terrible things to happen to good people.
     This December 25th as our friend Ernie “Ernesto” Schimmer, the lion of Los Angeles International Airport air cargo reaches his 79th birthday, we know that his thoughts and increasingly ours turn to his little Ernest Anthony Jr. who died this past June at age 14 of ataxia-telangiectasia or A-T.
     Ataxia means loss of coordination and telangiectasia refers to what doctors see when they looked into the boy’s eyes.
     Ernest was only five when doctors finally figured out that he had A-T in 1995.
     His mom, Ernesto’s wife, Maria had noticed that the little boy was not walking right at about two years old, but was told by the pediatrician “he is still very young.”
     When Ernest was later diagnosed with motor problems and further tests finally nailed down the affliction as A-T, a rare disease that right now has hit less than 500 children in the U.S.:
     “Our life just crumbled,” Maria recalled.
     “But you pick yourself up—all the little pieces, and you keep on.”
Ernesto Sr. said:
     “He gave us courage.
     “His room had model airplanes and sports posters and the kind of stuff that is normal to kids all over America and the world.
     “He was determined to take what life he could get and be as normal as possible.
     “Ernest joked around, acted very much like any kid his age, but now as we think about him, what courage that took.
     “Ernest taught us so much in his short life.
     “Although resolved and determined, we were both a little more than scared about working with a boy with such a profound disability.
     “I had never heard of AT and did not know anybody else who had heard of that disease either.
     “As Ernest grew older and his routines were more established between school and the doctors and everyday life, we realized that Ernest, who depended upon us for everything, was also our teacher.
     “Each day we learned about compassion and strength and about what is important in life from the little boy.
     “He attended school at Del Cerro which serves our district and they were more than willing to work with our severely challenged youngster.
     “We can never repay or rightfully thank that school for their kindness and compassion.
     “Ernest’s years at De Cerro now recalled, were remarkable.
     “He pulled himself up by sheer force of will and improved his motor skills and speech sounds.
     “All day he studied and attended adaptive speech therapy, but Ernest also found time for serious deep dish science and music that he loved.
     “Ernest rode the bus to and from school just like millions of other American school kids.
     “When it came time for sports, just six months before he left us forever, Ernest came out for the annual school Jog-A-Thon even though he knew it might be painful.
     “I pushed him around the track with help from his teachers and class mates, amidst peals of laughter and joy from Ernest that none of us who were there that day will ever forget.
     “What courage, we all thought.
     “Another time we were out on the school annual whale watch on a cold and gray morning.
     “Ernest was lifted over the ships rail from his wheel chair onboard the small craft, bundled up in heavy coat and scarves to guard against the cold.
     “We spent most of the morning spotting nothing but empty water.
     “But suddenly en-route back to port, a giant gray whale rose up from the water directly in front of our craft like some giant submarine surfacing.
     “Seven times the big creature breached the water up and down like she was dancing just for Ernest.
     “One of the teachers talked to my son’s best friend, a boy named Jason, who said that while the whale dance was going on he felt that there was also a message being delivered to Ernest.
     “'Soon,' Jason said, 'Ernest would also be dancing, no longer confined to that chair, trapped in a body that had stolen his youth.'”

Always a family. Mid December in California they set a place at the birthday table and remembered and celebrated the life of a brave little boy who should have turned fifteen. The Schimmer family— Ernesto, Maria and their daughter, Gioia are remarkable people who have much courage.   At Christmas 2004, while the traditional tunes revolve around the season, we recall another song:                     When I’m worried,                     And cannot sleep,                     I count my blessings,                     Instead of sheep.                     And I fall asleep,                     Counting my blessings.

     You look at Ernesto Schimmer today. There will be another Christmas for Ernesto with family and friends that will also double as a birthday party.
     Now, Ernesto just a hair’s breath away from becoming an octogenarian looks in pretty good shape with a walk and ebullience that others half his age might admire.
     His eyes that have always been bright blue still radiate a vitality and youthfulness that belies his age.
     This guy fought in the service of the United States Navy in World War II where he saw action during some of the thunderous battles at the close of the war.
     Later as a founding member of the air cargo community of Southern California at Flying Tiger Line and Slick among others and notably at Garuda Indonesian where he built the entire sales department, Ernesto Schimmer has devoted over a half-century career to the worldwide growth of the air cargo form from piston engine aircraft to the big jets.
     Today, still active with his own consulting group, International Air Cargo Logistics that specializes in airline consulting and GSA services, Ernesto leverages a wealth of knowledge, tinged by a keen sense of history.
     Ernesto shows no signs of quitting or slowing up, although those eyes understandably have looked out upon the world from behind a shroud since midyear.
     “As time moves, on we continue to celebrate our child’s life as a precious and wonderful gift.”

(Editor Note) More about A-T at www.treatat.org or donation to National Organization to Treat A-T, 4310 Ramsey Ave., Austin, Texas 78756. Contact Ernesto Schimmer @24572 LaCienega St. Laguna Hills, Ca. 92653 (949) 643-3096 (800) 726-8913 or EMSchimmer@aol.com