February 22, 2011. Life is for the LIving

There are few things in life that are guaranteed.

1) That no matter what occurs; Right wing radio will blame the "liberal, socialist media.”

2) That there will never be another Rock and Roll band that compares to the Beatles.

3) That I will never root for the Red Sox.

4) That the person sitting next to you has it worse off than you do.



Why is it that people feel the need to drone on about every sniffle? Everybody has problems, some may be insurmountable. Mine aren’t.

What’s different about my life today then it was before the diagnosis.

1) I’m no longer in my office. That’s just geography. My name still appears on the wall to my old office. My friends still call me to do work for them. I still use the office, and another, when I want to see people. The fact that I’m still working, has kept me vital, minimized the effects of the Parkinson’s, and kept my spirits up.

2) I don’t drive quite as much as I once did. So what!! Both offices that I use are within walking distance of the Long Island Railroad. I live within 2 blocks from the subway. Where I can’t get to by train or subway, there are always cabs from the train.

3) I shake a little. It makes for a great Martini.

4) Money is tight. I got news for you. This has been the worst economy since the great depression. It’s tight for everybody.


There are people hungry, the closest I get to hungry, is when we are out of Mallomars. There are people cold, I turn on the heat. There are people who can’t afford an education. My education continues every day. Whether my education comes from a book, a friend, a newspaper or life itself, it continues.

I’d rather not have Parkinson’s. My neighbor would rather not be in debt. The man living in the subways would rather have a home. The man down the street would be happier if his wife didn’t have Alzheimer’s disease. If you want to live in this world, it’s the price that you pay.

January 11, 2011. So this is what a Courthouse Looks Like.

I hate going to Court. I avoid it whenever possible. The main function of the court is "hurry up and wait."

It's filled with Young Attorney who think that they learned something useful in Law School.

It's filled with Middle Aged Attorneys, that can't believe that this is what their lives have become.

It's filled with pompous Attorneys, that carry with them 250 page briefs, that are only that long because Attorneys need to use three synonyms for every adjective that they use.

I guess that it serves a purpose. It keep Lawyers off of the streets.

Today, I'm going to Court. In Riverhead of all places. I can drive out there, but since the calendar is at 3:00 PM, I'd be driving back at night. I don't do that anymore. It's one of the activities that I have given up due to the PD.

The next choice is the train. The last train to Riverhead arrives at 10:30 AM. Assuming that it takes 10 minutes to get to the Court, I'd have 4 hours and 20 minutes for lunch. The return train leaves at 3:50 PM. If I miss that one, the next train leave at 10:20 PM. There's not much one can do in Riverhead for 12 hours.

My wife is going to drive me. This is wonderful of her, but it bothers me nonetheless. Not because she is nice enough to drive me, but because she has to drive me.

It's not the loss of independence that bothers me. It's the loss of the option of independence that bothers me. It's very important to the ego to believe that you can still be the one who is relied upon. To request this ride was not easy.

I see this happening more and more. My reactions may not be logical, but I'll bet that they are common. You spend years growing up, so that you can be the one relied upon, then one day, it's all taken away from you.

I used to go to Yankee Stadium at night via subway. Now I no longer go to the Stadium and, because of the stairs, I avoid the subway if possible. Is the Stadium still there?

I used to go to out of town conferences. If possible I drove. I'd bring all of The Beatles CDs in the car. Those hours of solitude with just the music were extremely relaxing. I'll never do that again.

I've always hated Court. I avoid it whenever possible. I wish that I could go to Court today, by myself. You don't always realize what you enjoy, until it is taken away.

December 8, 2010. Taking Care of Business

From June 1985 until June 2008, I conducted my business out of my own office. As the end of my last lease was nearing, it became apparent that it was imprudent to renew. I was often taking the train in order to avoid the 50 mile round trip commute. My office mates moved and took my name with them. Luckily they moved closer to the train. So with my old mates, in Syosset, and good friends in Merrick, I had two sets of dear friends allowing me access to their offices.

So now, I drive when I have to, take the train when I can. I don't look like your typical Attorney. Instead of an attach case, I carry my files and computer in my back pack.

Because of the help that I've received from my friends , my business has functioned pretty much as it did before.

There was a time that I had a photographic memory. I had what I described as a file cabinet in my head. I remembered everything. Unfortunately I'm stuck with 35 millimeter head in a digital world. Computer programs like "Log-me-in" and Outlook have made my computer a virtual office.

I'm not convinced that my memory issues have anything to do with Parkinson's Disease. I think it's a function of age and the fact that I just have so much RAM in my head.

I never loved what I did for a living until I thought that I might not be able to do it anymore. Now unless I find something more challenging, i will continue to do this for a long time. I'm convinced that one's physical well being is directly related to one's mental well being. As long as I continue to feel vital there is no way that Parkinson's can get the best of me.

December 3, 2010. God Never Gives Us Back our Youth

Somebody who I didn't particularly like once said to me, "Work to live, don't live to work."

He was a slime, but his words were right.

In my prime I did 200+ closings a year. I was in the office on Saturdays and some Sundays. I often didn't take vacations. And like the lean days, I lived hand to mouth. Only more got in the mouth. I did closings from Montauk to Saratoga.Today instead of a car I often take the Railroad. Instead of an attache case, I carry my laptop in my backpack. Due to the economy and my circumstances, I do far fewer closings.

Today things are different. Although I know that it is importantI do what I can to get by. I doubt that my last words will be, "Damn, I should have done one more closing!"

I don''t know what the future holds for me. None of us do. I do know that it isn't exactly what I had planned. If i knew then what I know now, I would have done a lot differently. As the words to one of my favorite songs say, "God, never gives us back our youth." Ain't it the truth.

December 2, 2010. Hold me Tight

As the train slowed down into the Station, I realized that I was off balance. Are my hands, clinging to the bar, strong enough to keep me up, while the pull of the train was fighting against me?

Thoughts went through my mind. Who would be able to lift me if I fell? If I fell upon the tiny lady next to me, would she be flattened as if she were in a "Loony Tunes" Cartoon? Would the Conductor wait for me to get up, or would he stick to the schedule of keeping the train doors open for 1 1/2 seconds? What's to become of the Mallomar in my back pocket? Why do people buy Ann Coulter books? Has anybody ever made it through Ulysses?

As I've previously stated, balance is a key issue for people with PD. My arms were strong enough to hold me up, but I'm convinced that others would have gone down.

On trains I try not to stand too close to somebody, because, all joking aside, if I fell on somebody that person could get seriously injured. I'm also cognizant of who and how far below me somebody might be on steps.

The fall may happen. The damage can be controlled.

November 29, 2010. In My Father's Eyes

I was first diagnosed with PD when I was 49. At the time, my wife and I decided to keep it quiet. My father was ill, and we felt that it would have been too much for my folks to handle at that time.

My folks had always been an integral part of my life. Not sharing this with them was difficult, but was part of the continuing process of growing up. i spent most of my Sunday mornings the next two years visiting my Dad. At first I would drive into Manhattan. Later, when I became uncomfortable driving in the City, I would take the bus. By that time I had told my folks.

With my father ill, and my future unsure, I was depressed. I didn't concentrate on my business. The coinciding with the worst economy in 70 years spelled near disaster.

My wife, far wiser than I, saw the future. She realized that my days of a 50 mile round trip commute were over, so she exercised insider rights given to us to purchase another unit in our building, and convinced me that we should purchase a studio apartment. My office is now on the 17th floor, my apartment on the 10th. An easy commute.

My friends on the Island also allowed me to use their offices. These offices are near the Long Island Railroad so it's also an easy commute.

I have and have always had bad work habits. I'll work for 20 minutes, walk around the office and "kibitz" for 10 minutes and back to work. The problem arose, who do I "kibitz" with on the 17th floor? The answer arose, The internet. I started to reconnect with old friends. One day around that time I woke up. The depression was just a waste of time.

I continued to spend my Sunday Mornings with my Dad. My dad was a special man. The most educated, informally educated man that I've ever met. He could have been, and in his own way was, a brilliant engineer.

Although Dad sold sporting goods, he never was a sports fan, but his two sons were. So dad would take us to the Garden to see the Rangers. 17,000 people would be screaming. Dad would be snoring. He wake up and say, "That was a great play." my brother would say, "Dad, that's the Zamboni." The story is not completely true. However as they said in, "The Man who shot Liberty Valance," "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."

I miss my Dad. I wouldn't have given up those last two years of visits for anything.