Spaldeen

Do you remember Spaldings (known in my neighborhood as Spaldeens) and Pensy Pinkies? They were pink rubber balls, that were great for stickball and other games. My dad sold them for $.19. This past week I have been a Spaldeen. I've been bouncing off walls.

One moment I'm sad, the next I'm content (never reached elation), then back to sad again. Friday night, I never fell asleep. Sunday morning in the midst of a Parkinsonian dream, I fell out of bed. Last night was the best night's sleep that I have had in years.

I don't know if it's the pills, The Parkinsons or have I entered the Twilight Zone?

There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is in the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Parkinsonian Zone.

Submitted for your approval, Marc Sherman, an ethical if not too successful lawyer on Long Island. Life has always come easy for him. Too easy. So now he has entered the Parkinsonian Zone.

This is another dimension. Day after day, I never know what part of me will say, "I'm on strike today."?

Will it be my feet, refusing to sit flat on the floor. Or will it be my legs, shaking constantly. Or my knees, which crack and hurt, because my body mechanics have thrown them out of whack. My bowels, I leave this to your imagination. My arms, that don't want to swing. You should try this, it puts an enormous strain on your neck. Or my mind, that is constantly forgetting things. I am now starting to make lists. However, I forget where I put them.

I promise that this morose mood will end.

12/1/2014