From the get-go, Matt vacillated between saying he remembered how to code and asserting that he didn’t need to be proficient in coding to be a professor again. Our family—especially the engineers in the group—questioned this assumption and actively looked for opportunities to quantify his skills.

Coding is the process of translating ideas, solutions, and instructions into a language a computer understands. Machine code is the computer’s fundamental language, written exclusively in 0s and 1s. A simpler computer language, assembly code, bridges the underlying hardware and higher-level programming languages such as C, C++, or Java. To varying degrees, Matt had been fluent in the major programming languages in use since the 1970s. However, he lacked experience with the new kid on the block: Python. Driven by advances in data science and artificial intelligence, Python had become prevalent around 2010. In time, mastering Python became a major bone of contention in our household.

The first testing ground began in July 2020, when Matt started an online C++ tutorial on Codecademy as a lead-up to getting an Arduino board, which has a programmable microprocessor capable of producing an output, such as a beep or turning on LED lights. In theory, our kids’ brainchild sounded reasonable. In practice, it left me struggling to decipher cryptic syntax errors, symbols, and formatting rules while they reclined miles away—presumably eating bonbons. I stumbled along as best I could, calling Megan, our lifeline for this assignment, whenever I hit a wall. Even with help, the endeavor had its pitfalls, not least of which was Matt’s tendency to take the path of least resistance by sneaking a peek at the answer key.

Megan wasn’t deterred. On vacation, working side by side with Matt, she identified his main barriers. She started with the importance of reading all instructions carefully, taking tasks one step at a time, and reviewing the results to ensure the outcome matched expectations. Under her guidance, Matt gained momentum and completed the final five sessions on his own. Sadly, subsequent efforts to enroll Matt in a new tutorial met stiff pushback because he believed he was already competent in coding.

This digital prowess soon extended from academic exercises into everyday personal life. Intent on mailing Christmas thank-you notes, Matt selected a Microsoft Publisher template, printed the cards, and wrote individual notes inside. Significantly, he wrote in cursive rather than printing, with far fewer cross-outs, markedly improved spelling and spatial layout on the page, and mailed them out as if it were no big deal. His heartfelt words—reflecting genuine warmth, gratitude, and a clear recognition of how far he’d come—touched Mike and me profoundly.

After a brief hiatus, the Micro:bit took center stage again. In July, Ryan intervened to convince Matt that a motorized vehicle attachment was the cat’s meow. After programming it to drive figure-eights, Ryan encouraged Matt to take on weekly projects. For Matt, however, "taking on weekly tasks" meant letting the vehicle collect dust on a shelf. We seriously needed a tried-and-true game plan. He could be so exasperating at times—a stark contrast to his personality over the preceding 33 years.

 As hard as we tried to understand the source of his denial, the rejection of our cleverly designed, promising initiatives hurt. Matt’s mounting refusal—to accept efforts on his behalf—carried the heavy risk that his support network might ultimately throw up their hands in defeat. But not yet; we refused to yield and wouldn't be outdone. His family ramped up a steady stream of intellectual pursuits, relentlessly searching for that mysteriously elusive motivator.

The search for a spark led directly to the annual Christmas Light Show. Ryan tapped into Matt’s long-standing passion for designing elaborate multicolored light patterns around his house and for a bright front-lawn Santa Claus. This time, the venue was Ryan’s front yard outside Los Angeles, with a modern twist. The automated light show would blend hardware, software logic, digital media, and synchronized timing—such as Snoopy doing a happy dance inside an illuminated tree. Matt eagerly embraced the endeavor, diving into YouTube tutorials to learn how to set up the system. Our family watched excitedly as he tried to solve technical hurdles on his own before asking Ryan for help. After a week of no headway, it suddenly clicked. In a true lightbulb moment (pun intended), he realized what needed to be done—and he did it.

Whether in those astonishingly vivid 3-D moments or in reflection years later, we shake our heads in wonder—gladly savoring each inconceivable milestone. We do so knowing that Matt’s recovery rarely follows a smooth, straight trajectory. It remains an unpredictable proposition of one step forward, two steps back, and sometimes starting all over again from scratch. In our world, as in finance, past performance does not guarantee future results. Yet every victory, as well as each fleeting glimmer of possibility, is tallied in the win column on this road we call recovery.

© 2026, Sarah Watkins