There is a different perspective on life, being more a Pedestrian, and less a driver.
Forest Hills has a high population of elderly. All things considered, I still walk faster than most people. I have difficulty making it across Queens Boulevard in one light cycle. How do the elderly do it? The cars don't wait. They're honking their horn the second that the light changes. Driver's Education must now teach that that red and white octagonal sign doesn't mean stop, it means "roll through and curse at the Pedestrian."
Today, as I was entering the Subway at Continental and Queens, there was an elderly man climbing the steps the other way. People behind him were delayed. One young lady was flailing her arms, in obvious frustration. Five years ago I could have acted like that girl. Five years from now I could be that Gentleman.
How long did that flight of steps actually delay this girl? 10 seconds? How long does it take to actually stop at the stop sign?
There are benefits to having more difficulty in day to day life. You begin to appreciate what others go through. Making it only natural to make their lives less difficult.
Showing posts with label Queens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Queens. Show all posts
Monday, November 29, 2010
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.
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