He said the Fourth of July was a turning point for him. We lay there, completely incapacitated by something intense and immediate and awful that we had eaten earlier at the neighborhood picnic we had looked forward to for weeks. There were going to be fireworks later. We could just take our chairs down the hill one block and take in the view of Lake Union, the tens of thousands of people coverng the hill of Gasworks Park, and the hundreds of boats hull-to-hull on the lake, all festively lit by colorful fireworks in the summer sky. That was the plan. Instead we lay nearly unable to move. He was…