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.

February 3, 2011. Baby you can drive my car

In High School, driving did not come easy to me. It was not natural and I was extremely nervous. But once I got the feel of it, the fear was gone. I would drive anywhere. Weekend trips to the Carolinas , overnight trips to Cooperstown, day trips to southern Vermont.

It now is sometimes difficult for me to get comfortable in a car. What had become instinctive, no longer was. I find that Parkinson's robs me of many of my instinct. I have to think about things that once came naturally.

Now I find that the best time for me to drive is between 12:30 PM and 4 PM. I have the proper balance of medications, hence, I'm comfortable and confident.

On a winterly day, about six months after the diagnosis, I was driving to my dentist. The traffic on the Northern State Parkway was stop and go. While moving along at snail's pace, I was hit from behind. After being hit, for some reason I couldn't get my right foot to move to the brake. Hence I hit a van in front of me. The second collision was so minor that there was no damage to either car. The first collision was clearly not my fault.

The young girl who hit me, sustained the greater damage to her car. My car had a minor dent, that I didn't pursue.

What concerned me then, and concerns me to this day, was my slow reaction time.

I was a Third baseman. I was a Hockey Goaltender. My reactions were terrific. A reaction like that should be instinctive. To this date 5 years later, it was a one time occurrence, that I don't want to test again.

My driving habits have changed considerably. I never drive at night, I try to avoid driving in inclement weather. I clearly am not aggressive on the roads. If I'm being tailgated, I get out of the way. If there is the slightest chance of my having to drive, I won't have as much as one glass of wine.

My car has over 200,000 miles on it. It's the last car that I will ever own. I don't drive that much anymore. Although I had come to enjoy driving, I don't miss driving per se. I miss the freedom that results from having that option. I will never again drive to the Carolinas, with the full Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel collection playing on the CD. I will never again wake up on a Saturday morning and say, "Let's drive up to Newport for dinner."

I also realize that there are far worse problems than not being able to go to Newport for dinner. All in All, I've been lucky. Mass transit in NYC is very convenient.

The subways have signs posted saying, "No spitting, $100.00 fine." Since Parkinson's makes it difficult to spit, look at all the money that I've saved.

January 15, 2011. Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee.

There are artists who shine above the rest, Beethoven, Mozart, The Beatles, Van Gogh, Picasso. In the world of sports there are those who are no lesser artists than those listed above.

Willie Mays was the Picasso of Baseball. Tom Seaver said that he was the only outfielder that he ever played with, that wanted to know what pitch he would throw. This is because Mays could usually tell by the combination of the pitch and the angle of the batters bat where the ball would be hit. He knew that the game was entertainment, and that people came to see him, he rarely disappointed.

Wayne Gretzky made everybody around him a superstar. They used to say that he could see the play unfolding in slow motion. I had season tickets for the Islanders for 20 years, much of it during Gretzky's prime. Although I always rooted against him, I marveled at how great he was.

Everybody knows about Michael Jordan. There was nobody like him. He walked on air. During his prime I had season tickets for the Knicks. As long as Jordan played, the Knicks would remain the perennial also ran.

I never was a boxing fan. It wasn't a sport to me. With one notable exception. Muhammad Ali. Ali was grace, pure entertainment. He'd dance and recite his poetry, and have the crowd roaring. He even made Howard Cosell enjoyable. Thirty years after his last fight, he is still considered the most recognizable face in the world.

Ali suffers from Parkinson's disease. Most likely the disease was caused or at least exacerbation by the many blows to the head that he took. He was diagnosed in 1984. Today Ali barely speaks, needs help walking, his hands tremble and shake. His infectious smile is a struggle, that he seems willing to overcome.

"When Ali was first diagnosed with Parkinson's Syndrome, he went through a battery of tests, first at the renowned Mayo Clinic, then at a series of other highly respected institutions. Ali's physical exams and tests indicated a surprising amount of abnormalities, all of which seemed to be boxing related. It was found that Ali had a hole in the membrane separating the two sides of his brain. While this type of abnormality is often congenital, being punched in the head repeatedly, if not causing such a condition, can certainly exacerbate and worsen it. Further complicating matters, Ali was shown to have a series of degenerative changes in his brain stem; a part of the brain that is linked with dopamine production, a neurotransmitter that is lacking in those afflicted with Parkinson's-like afflictions. Ali's brain stem was shown to be significantly damaged, and his attending physicians, in a statement released at Muhammad Ali's behest, stated that they believed Ali's brain damage to be boxing-induced." http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/436969/muhammad_alis_battle_against_parkinsons.html?cat=25

Ali doesn't appear to be bitter. He appears at many charitable events. Somehow he seems to be able to fake a combination to excite his legion of fans.

I haven't watched a Boxing match in more than thirty years, and will unlikely ever watch another. Because there will never be another Ali.

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 31, 2010. A Day in the Life

Woke Up Fell Out of Bed
Such a event is possible, because someone with PD may act out his or her dreams. I think that I told this story, but for those of you who weren't listening, I'll repeat the story. Many of my Dreams are sports related. One dream in particular I found myself on the floor, after trying to slide into first base. You don't slide into First. What pissed me off was not that I fell, but what was I doing sliding into First Base. It's one of the first things that you learn, right after don't run with scissors.

Dragged a comb across my head,
An apt description, because I now use two hands to comb my hair. One for each follicle.

Found my way downstairs and drank a cup, and looking up, I noticed I was late.
Everything takes longer. You don't even realize it. It's as if a slow motion camera is on you.

Found my coat and grabbed my hat.
I can find my coat, but the problem remains how do I get my arms in the sleeve? How do I button up the coat? Both are difficult and embarrassing in public.

Made the Bus in seconds flat.
I rarely drive anymore. It's not that my driving is bad. It's not, I'm exceedingly careful. I'm also so tense, that my neck strains. I just would rather avoid driving.

Found my way upstairs and had a smoke
I don't know if this is Parkinson's related, but it's 50-50 if I would find my way. My sense of direction has gotten awful

And Somebody spoke and I went into a dream.
Don't think that you're boring me, but there is a good chance that I'd fall asleep in the middle of out conversation.

A new interpretation for a Beatles song.

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.