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Sunday, April 29, 2012

Nontraditional Religion.

I am not a person who considers himself religious in the traditional sense of the word.   As a matter of fact, the last time that I was in temple my mind wandered. I thought to myself, “what would happen if Bruce Springsteen, were in fact Jewish, and was the Cantor?
‘ Jews like us, baby we were born to pray.’”                                                                                

I am so untraditional that I call myself a “Jew for Jeter.”

Knowing this, would you call me a hypocrite, if I say that I feel blessed?

I don’t believe that I’m blessed by God, but if you want to feel that way, I’m not going to argue.

I’ve had a pretty easy, uncomplicated life.  Until recently my toughest decision may have been choosing who not to root for in the 1986 World Series.  I ended up hoping that both teams would somehow be disqualified.    Now, I have real issues to face.

I face a world of uncertainty.    Will this disease continue to progress at a snail’s pace, awarding me the opportunity to make my life productive?

It’s not that I’ve been unproductive, but admittedly, I’ve looked at life from the cheap seats.   Yeah, I’ve been the uninvolved complainer, but besides voting, I’ve never done anything.  When I heard that Hostess was owned by ITT baking, which had something to do with the bombs in Viet Nam, it was too much for me to give up cup cakes.

SO why am I suddenly blessed?  Why have I been given a second chance.   I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT!!!   Can I get a Hallelujah?  Alright enough of that crap.

Everybody that I know has been good to me, my family, my friends etc... They don’t treat me as handicapped, they don’t marginalize me, they treat me just as they always have.  I appreciate that.  I have no opportunity to feel sorry for myself.   That would be a waste of time.

I’ve also gotten involved with a group of Parkinson’s advocates.   These people are energized, these people are intelligent, these people are selfless.   Not one of them asks for pity.   Not one of them does less then they did before being diagnosed.  I respect these people.  They’ve taught me so much.

I’m 55 years old.   For some strange reason that is called middle aged.    I’ll accept that lie, because now I have 55 years to pay forward.   They might not find a cure for this insidious disease during my lifetime, but my role is to exert any effort that I can, to help find a cure for future generations.    I do it with pleasure.

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