What are the unexpected benefits of Parkinson's Disease:
1) You never need to put a quarter in the "magic fingers" machine in a cheap hotel's bed.
2) Save time in mixing Bosco. It will be mixed by the time it reaches your mouth.
3) Don't need an electric toothbrush.
4) You win all the dance contests. Assuming that their doing the twist.
5) Great head fake on the Basketball Court.
6) Can disguise yourself as a giant rattlesnake and fool the Arizona Border Patrol.
7) Save money of Maracas when the band wants to play LaBamba.
8) James Bond will always want to come to your house for dinner. You make the perfect Martini, Shaken not Stirred.
Showing posts with label Basketball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Basketball. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Sunday, December 12, 2010
December 12, 2010. Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup
Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe (Lennon and McCartney)
In less than 3 weeks I'll be 54 years old. Yet in my mind, I'm 25. Not that I could or would try things that I did at 25. There are substitutes.
I'd look silly going to the school yard to play Basketball.
At 25, I drove a 280 Z. How ridiculous do balding, aging men look in a Sports Car? Not quite as ridiculous as that same man, 45 pounds overweight trying to get out of the car. Invariably a beautiful 25 year old woman will walk past. This overweight, comb-over of a man will suck in his gut, make sure he has his viagra and greet the woman. Things go well until she says, "Hello sir, you remind me of my grandfather!"
In the words of the Late Harry Chapin, "A tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's roar." What Harry neglected to say, Was "Nor do I want to." For you see, I don't mind middle age. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't mind PD. But as one door closes another opens.
My outlook is much better than it was. I found a hobby. Instead of remembering Baseball games that occurred in my imagination, I've discovered words. words like "avuncular," "conundrum," "ennui," and "Curmudgeon." When these words appear upon my screen I don't have PD, I'm not middle aged, my hair isn't falling out and I weigh 195 bounds.
PD, in a way, helped me to discover this pleasure. I still occasionally get the frustration of striking out. I'll go for weeks without an idea. Other times I come up with "Eggs but no Ham." Writing that was a blast. So far deep inside my archieves, I will reprint, """Eggs but no Ham."
Apologies to Dr. Seuss
Would you like
that piece of ham?
I can not eat Ham,
for Schwartz-I-am
I was circumcised at eight days old,
and ever since then, I’ve done what I’m told.
Would you try it
just this once?
No I think that I’ll stick to
my Gefilte Fish for Lunch.
I will not eat that piece of Ham,
Nor can I date the Shikse named Pam.
But I’d like to, said
Schwartz-I-am.
I’m sorry you can’t eat
a slice of Ham.
How about a can of Spam?
Nobody wants Spam in a can.
Not I, nor that nebish name Stan.
I will not eat it
when I Pray.
I will not eat it
at the end of day
A Jew won’t eat Spam in a can
I will not try it Schwartz-I-Am
Would you try it in the Shul?
Would you eat it with a Fool?
Would you get this through you head.
I cannot eat food that’s ill-bred!
I will not eat them in a Shul.
Nor will I eat them with you, you fool!
The animal must chew its Cud.
So I guess your party is just a Dud.
To a boy named Murray such is banned.
I will not try it, Schwartz-I-Am.
Would you eat them
in the Temple?
Please come here and
try a sample!
I will not eat them in the Temple.
What’s your problem are you really that simple.
I will not eat it from a box.
I’d just prefer a bagel and Lox.
You see this Beanie upon my head.
It’s just not the way that I was Bred.
I will not eat Spam in a can.
I will not eat it, Schwartz-I-Am.
A Shrimp! A Shrimp!
A Shrimp! A Shrimp!
Could you just this
once try a Shrimp?
A Fish that shelled, I will not eat!
Not even with that Shiske Sweet!
I would not, could not, eat his food.
I could not, would not, I’m not being rude.
I will not eat your Lobster Bisque.
My Mother may catch me, I won’t take the risk.
A Cheeseburger, I’ve never had.
Not even as a Little Lad.
I will not date that Shikse Pam.
Although, I’d like to, Schwartz-I-Am.
But,
Nobody will know,
There’s no one to show
Would you, Could you, Just like Moe.
I would not, could not,
even with Moe
Would you, could you,
on the Sabbath?
I would not, could not, on the Sabbath
Not with Moe. Not with the Shikse Pam.
Not in the Temple. Not in the Shul.
I cannot eat this what you serve,
So you’ll have more left in reserve.
Ask me no more. Do you have some Schmaltz?
You went to the wrong store, this Nova has no zalts!
Now listen while I tell you just one last time,
for I fear that I can no longer rhyme.
I will not eat a slice of Ham.
I will not eat Spam in a can.
But I changed my mind about the Shikse named Pam
I am no fool said, Schwartz-I-Am.
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe (Lennon and McCartney)
In less than 3 weeks I'll be 54 years old. Yet in my mind, I'm 25. Not that I could or would try things that I did at 25. There are substitutes.
I'd look silly going to the school yard to play Basketball.
At 25, I drove a 280 Z. How ridiculous do balding, aging men look in a Sports Car? Not quite as ridiculous as that same man, 45 pounds overweight trying to get out of the car. Invariably a beautiful 25 year old woman will walk past. This overweight, comb-over of a man will suck in his gut, make sure he has his viagra and greet the woman. Things go well until she says, "Hello sir, you remind me of my grandfather!"
In the words of the Late Harry Chapin, "A tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's roar." What Harry neglected to say, Was "Nor do I want to." For you see, I don't mind middle age. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't mind PD. But as one door closes another opens.
My outlook is much better than it was. I found a hobby. Instead of remembering Baseball games that occurred in my imagination, I've discovered words. words like "avuncular," "conundrum," "ennui," and "Curmudgeon." When these words appear upon my screen I don't have PD, I'm not middle aged, my hair isn't falling out and I weigh 195 bounds.
PD, in a way, helped me to discover this pleasure. I still occasionally get the frustration of striking out. I'll go for weeks without an idea. Other times I come up with "Eggs but no Ham." Writing that was a blast. So far deep inside my archieves, I will reprint, """Eggs but no Ham."
Apologies to Dr. Seuss
Would you like
that piece of ham?
I can not eat Ham,
for Schwartz-I-am
I was circumcised at eight days old,
and ever since then, I’ve done what I’m told.
Would you try it
just this once?
No I think that I’ll stick to
my Gefilte Fish for Lunch.
I will not eat that piece of Ham,
Nor can I date the Shikse named Pam.
But I’d like to, said
Schwartz-I-am.
I’m sorry you can’t eat
a slice of Ham.
How about a can of Spam?
Nobody wants Spam in a can.
Not I, nor that nebish name Stan.
I will not eat it
when I Pray.
I will not eat it
at the end of day
A Jew won’t eat Spam in a can
I will not try it Schwartz-I-Am
Would you try it in the Shul?
Would you eat it with a Fool?
Would you get this through you head.
I cannot eat food that’s ill-bred!
I will not eat them in a Shul.
Nor will I eat them with you, you fool!
The animal must chew its Cud.
So I guess your party is just a Dud.
To a boy named Murray such is banned.
I will not try it, Schwartz-I-Am.
Would you eat them
in the Temple?
Please come here and
try a sample!
I will not eat them in the Temple.
What’s your problem are you really that simple.
I will not eat it from a box.
I’d just prefer a bagel and Lox.
You see this Beanie upon my head.
It’s just not the way that I was Bred.
I will not eat Spam in a can.
I will not eat it, Schwartz-I-Am.
A Shrimp! A Shrimp!
A Shrimp! A Shrimp!
Could you just this
once try a Shrimp?
A Fish that shelled, I will not eat!
Not even with that Shiske Sweet!
I would not, could not, eat his food.
I could not, would not, I’m not being rude.
I will not eat your Lobster Bisque.
My Mother may catch me, I won’t take the risk.
A Cheeseburger, I’ve never had.
Not even as a Little Lad.
I will not date that Shikse Pam.
Although, I’d like to, Schwartz-I-Am.
But,
Nobody will know,
There’s no one to show
Would you, Could you, Just like Moe.
I would not, could not,
even with Moe
Would you, could you,
on the Sabbath?
I would not, could not, on the Sabbath
Not with Moe. Not with the Shikse Pam.
Not in the Temple. Not in the Shul.
I cannot eat this what you serve,
So you’ll have more left in reserve.
Ask me no more. Do you have some Schmaltz?
You went to the wrong store, this Nova has no zalts!
Now listen while I tell you just one last time,
for I fear that I can no longer rhyme.
I will not eat a slice of Ham.
I will not eat Spam in a can.
But I changed my mind about the Shikse named Pam
I am no fool said, Schwartz-I-Am.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
December 1, 2010. There's Something Bigger Than Phil!
Let me take you back to 1973. Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks release "The 2013 Year-Old Man" Reiner interviews Brooks, who is the old gentleman. At one point, Reiner asks the oldman,
“Did you always believe in the Lord?”
“No. We had a guy in our village named Phil, and for a time we worshipped him.”
You worshipped a guy named Phil? Why?”
“Because he was big, and mean, and he could break you in two with his bare hands.”
“Did you have prayers?”
“Yes, would you like to hear one? O Phil, please don’t be mean and hurt us, or break us in two with your bare hands.
”“So when did you start worshipping the Lord?”
“Well, one day a big thunderstorm came up and alightning bolt hit Phil. We gathered around and saw that he was dead. Then we said to one another,‘There’s somethin’ bigger than Phil!’
”I'm a big guy. I'm slightly over 6'2", and weigh about 240 lbs. Which is why I find it so difficult to accept the fact that wind could be disastrous.
Nothing ever knocked me over. When I played Hockey, if you tried to check me, you were going down. When I played Basketball, I couldn't dribble or jump, but if I planted my feet in the paint, I was getting that rebound. Now I've met my match. And the son of a bitch is invisible.
The coldest places in the Metropolitan area may well be, 1) The southern tip of Manhattan; 2) The Nassau Coliseum Parking Lot; 3) Queens Boulevard. What do these places have in common? They all have tremendous wind gusts.
Today was rainy and windy. As I entered the stairway going down to the subway on Continental Avenue at Queens Boulevard, I felt a gust of wind move me. Move me! Let me at that guy! My opponent is crafty. He may force me to avoid him in the future.
Have I met my match? Not really, but I must learn to be more careful. with PD comes clumsiness. I didn't go down this time, but it opened my eyes to the possibility that it may happen.
“Did you always believe in the Lord?”
“No. We had a guy in our village named Phil, and for a time we worshipped him.”
You worshipped a guy named Phil? Why?”
“Because he was big, and mean, and he could break you in two with his bare hands.”
“Did you have prayers?”
“Yes, would you like to hear one? O Phil, please don’t be mean and hurt us, or break us in two with your bare hands.
”“So when did you start worshipping the Lord?”
“Well, one day a big thunderstorm came up and alightning bolt hit Phil. We gathered around and saw that he was dead. Then we said to one another,‘There’s somethin’ bigger than Phil!’
”I'm a big guy. I'm slightly over 6'2", and weigh about 240 lbs. Which is why I find it so difficult to accept the fact that wind could be disastrous.
Nothing ever knocked me over. When I played Hockey, if you tried to check me, you were going down. When I played Basketball, I couldn't dribble or jump, but if I planted my feet in the paint, I was getting that rebound. Now I've met my match. And the son of a bitch is invisible.
The coldest places in the Metropolitan area may well be, 1) The southern tip of Manhattan; 2) The Nassau Coliseum Parking Lot; 3) Queens Boulevard. What do these places have in common? They all have tremendous wind gusts.
Today was rainy and windy. As I entered the stairway going down to the subway on Continental Avenue at Queens Boulevard, I felt a gust of wind move me. Move me! Let me at that guy! My opponent is crafty. He may force me to avoid him in the future.
Have I met my match? Not really, but I must learn to be more careful. with PD comes clumsiness. I didn't go down this time, but it opened my eyes to the possibility that it may happen.
Friday, November 19, 2010
November 19, 2010
I went back to the Gym today. The Gym that I use is associated with New York Institute of Technology (NYIT), and is situated on their beautiful campus on the Northern Boulevard in Old Westbury. The Gym is used by Parkinson's patients and the Physical Therapists are experts on Parkinson's Disease. They are also wonderful people! I've come to count them among my friends.
I've spent my life doing the least possible. I was a very bright, but very lazy student. Although I always played hard, I never prepared. Never stretched, always pulled muscles. So it's no surprise to me that I've been remiss in my exercise.
My therapists tailor part of the session to my talents. I tap a basketball against the wall, as if I were tipping in a rebound. I also throw a ball against a "pitchback." When I do these activities, I don't have Parkinson's Disease. Whether it's adrenaline or "muscle memory," I feel like that kid in the playground. What a wonderful feeling.
I don't envy kids today. I grew up in a young neighborhood. The weather warmed and we would get as many as possible for softball. It cooled down out came the football, the basketball and my favorite, my hockey stick. Today kids play video games on "playdates." Mention stickball and you get a blank stare. Gone are the sandlots. Part of the blame is greed.
I loved baseball. First came watching, then playing it. In 1965, I ran home from school to see Sandy Koufax pitch in the World Series. The game lasted a little more than 2 hours, leaving time for my friends and me to play ball.
If a Jewish kid from Brooklyn can make it, why not one from Queens? I was almost 9. My older brother who was 13, would tell me to watch his curveball, "It falls off the edge of a table!" He was right, it did. Today the series starts at 8:00 P.M. Because of the way that the game has changed, it invariably lasts almost 4 hours. Nine year olds can't stay up for that, and are missing, what I consider cherished memories.
The Jewish Kid from Queens never followed in Koufax's footsteps. This is something that can't be blamed on laziness, I wasn't that good. Though for about 10 minutes today, in the Gym, I was Koufax. I was again that little boy.
I've spent my life doing the least possible. I was a very bright, but very lazy student. Although I always played hard, I never prepared. Never stretched, always pulled muscles. So it's no surprise to me that I've been remiss in my exercise.
My therapists tailor part of the session to my talents. I tap a basketball against the wall, as if I were tipping in a rebound. I also throw a ball against a "pitchback." When I do these activities, I don't have Parkinson's Disease. Whether it's adrenaline or "muscle memory," I feel like that kid in the playground. What a wonderful feeling.
I don't envy kids today. I grew up in a young neighborhood. The weather warmed and we would get as many as possible for softball. It cooled down out came the football, the basketball and my favorite, my hockey stick. Today kids play video games on "playdates." Mention stickball and you get a blank stare. Gone are the sandlots. Part of the blame is greed.
I loved baseball. First came watching, then playing it. In 1965, I ran home from school to see Sandy Koufax pitch in the World Series. The game lasted a little more than 2 hours, leaving time for my friends and me to play ball.
If a Jewish kid from Brooklyn can make it, why not one from Queens? I was almost 9. My older brother who was 13, would tell me to watch his curveball, "It falls off the edge of a table!" He was right, it did. Today the series starts at 8:00 P.M. Because of the way that the game has changed, it invariably lasts almost 4 hours. Nine year olds can't stay up for that, and are missing, what I consider cherished memories.
The Jewish Kid from Queens never followed in Koufax's footsteps. This is something that can't be blamed on laziness, I wasn't that good. Though for about 10 minutes today, in the Gym, I was Koufax. I was again that little boy.
Monday, November 15, 2010
October 31, 2010
I was never a great athlete. I wasn't particularly agile. I never understood how someone could bounce a ball and run at the same time. I was also ridiculously slow. A friend used to say, "When Marc runs, it appears as if he's running under water." i used to say, "When I run, somebody starts a telethon."
What I lacked in agility and speed, I compensated for in strength and intelligence. I was a big kid, and strong as an Ox. In Basketball and Hockey, nobody could budge me. I also acknowledged my limitations and employed my assets.
At nearly 54 I don't expect The Knicks or The Yankees to call, but I am having difficulty accepting the fact that the simple walks, that I used to cherish, are getting to be a struggle. My mind says "Yes.' My back and my legs say "No." I pushed it the last two days. I avoided the subway and walked. I stop often. I'm tired.
My mind is still very clear, yet very different, then it once was. Strange stories lived in my "Walter Mitty" existence, but I was too inhibited to reveal them. Now, whether due to the disease, the prescriptions, or my age, I write these stories. Some people like them, some just tell me they like them, some don't understand them. I write for myself. It's a form of therapy. I also love inviting people into my strange world.
It's sometimes hard to accept that tomorrow won't be as good as today, but there is no other choice. I was dealt this hand. Most have been dealt a far worse hand than I have. So I'll live with it as what it is, an inconvenience, nothing more!
What I lacked in agility and speed, I compensated for in strength and intelligence. I was a big kid, and strong as an Ox. In Basketball and Hockey, nobody could budge me. I also acknowledged my limitations and employed my assets.
At nearly 54 I don't expect The Knicks or The Yankees to call, but I am having difficulty accepting the fact that the simple walks, that I used to cherish, are getting to be a struggle. My mind says "Yes.' My back and my legs say "No." I pushed it the last two days. I avoided the subway and walked. I stop often. I'm tired.
My mind is still very clear, yet very different, then it once was. Strange stories lived in my "Walter Mitty" existence, but I was too inhibited to reveal them. Now, whether due to the disease, the prescriptions, or my age, I write these stories. Some people like them, some just tell me they like them, some don't understand them. I write for myself. It's a form of therapy. I also love inviting people into my strange world.
It's sometimes hard to accept that tomorrow won't be as good as today, but there is no other choice. I was dealt this hand. Most have been dealt a far worse hand than I have. So I'll live with it as what it is, an inconvenience, nothing more!
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