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This was actually the longer part of a column.  Mike Royko passed away the week of this accident.  I was glad that the news wasn't all bad.  If you want to read the part about Royko, click here.

    Don't believe in miracles?   Maybe you just have to look for small ones.
    One of action hero Steven Seagal's movies, titled "Glimmer Man," is a typical action movie -
lots of gunfights and explosions, with some kung fu kicks and punches thrown in for good measure.
In the end, as always, the good guy wins.
    Racine has it's own version of the Glimmer Man.
    At least that's what Tammy Dowhower started calling her son, Dustin, a while back.
    Dustin Dowhower weighed barely 75 pounds and was shorter than my own son.  He was often at our house doing whatever he and The Kid and other boys do when they turn into teenagers.  Sometimes it's basketball.  Sometimes it's video games.  Sometimes it's skateboarding.
    One evening, when Dustin was with The Kid in our driveway, they were skateboarding, doing ollies or whatever they call it when skateboarders jump over things and generally defy gravity.
At 8 o'clock that evening, Dustin left our driveway and headed home, about five short city blocks away.
    He never got there.
    About 8:20, Tammy called our house wondering if her son was still playing.  When I said he had already left, she remarked that the police had the street blocked off and maybe he was watching what was going on.  In a way, she was right.
    Unfortunately, Dustin was what was going on and the reason the police had blocked off the street.
    Just five minutes after he left our house and less than two blocks from his own home, Dustin lay unconscious in the street after being struck by a van.  He was crossing the street, doing nothing wrong, on his way home like good kids are supposed to be, and he gets hit by a van.
    Then, instead of doing the right thing, the driver of the van did the cowardly thing and took off.
    The police and rescue workers did their thing and got Dustin to St. Mary's Hospital where the emergency people did their thing.  They put him on a helicopter and took him to Children's Hospital in Milwaukee where more people did their thing.
    No matter how much doctors say everything is going to be all right, when your kid is laying unconscious and bleeding, a parent still is worried.  So, while the medical people were doing their thing, Tammy probably started to do hers.  A lot of other people started to do their thing, too.  I know I did.  They prayed.
    Tammy called me later that night and told me that Dustin had some fractured ribs and a skull fracture.  He had some mighty nasty looking cuts, stitches in his face, and a big gash in his back.  The doctors said he was going to be all right, but he was unconscious and remained that way for several days.
    Then he opened his eyes, just slightly, but certainly enough for a worried mom to notice and take heart from.  Tammy said, "That was our first real glimmer of hope."  And, she's been calling Dustin Glimmer Man ever since.
    That might sound a little corny, but not to a mom or dad who hasn't had much sleep, who has had to take off from work, who is only worried about one thing, their son.  It shouldn't sound corny to anybody.
    Dustin was lucky that night.  He came home the day after his 13th birthday.  He and The Kid still play in the driveway.  They both still skateboard, but wear helmets now.
    Dustin missed some school, had to make up his work, and had to go through some therapy.  He still has some aches and pains and a nasty scar about a foot long on his back.
    But, he's all right.  Maybe there's the miracle.
    I'm no physics teacher.  Nor have I ever studied anatomy.  A van traveling about 35 miles an hour hits a 75 pound boy and throws him 30 feet against a concrete street.  It seems pretty logical to me what should happen when some creep in a van hits a 75 pound boy and takes off.
    Maybe there's some logical explanation about how a kid survives a fight with a van, but I can't think of one.  Maybe it's luck.  Maybe it's a tough little kid.  Maybe it's something else.
    Maybe it's something simple.  Like somebody answering a lot of prayers one night.