I'm going to begin this story by saying that within these past couple of weeks I have written two very short stories in somewhat of a tribute to two people that I really don't know well enough to be writing about. In that respect my words probably didn't mean that much to them.
\This morning a light seemed to turn on inside of me telling me if I put those two stories together I would have a real heart warming story. This is a story of a connection, not just a connection but quite a connection. When I add a few names to it you will not only see this connection, you will feel it. I will leave it's culmination in the hands of the Grosse Ile Presbyterian Church.
It begins on one Saturday morning about twenty years ago. Let's call it the year of 1990. We had only been on the Island about a year at the time. I went to the Post Office to retrieve my mail. The Post Office was closed on Saturdays but the doors were unlocked for Box customers. At that moment I was alone in the Post Office and noticed that someone had left a credit card on the table. I took the card home and saw that the name on the card was that of Pamela Frucci. I told Janet and she told me that she was a member of one of the boards on Grosse Ile.
I called her and told her of my discovery and that I could deliver it to her. She seemed rather apprehensive in talking to a stranger and she asked if I would leave it in her mail box. I said sure and did so the next Monday.
Now I would like to go the the year of 2001 which would be exactly ten years ago. My son; David-Scott, was a freshman in High School. Janet and I attended a basketball game in the High School gym. Prior to the game Jim Parker conducted the chorus in the singing of our National Anthem. The National Anthem is very special to me in light of all of the death and destruction I witnessed in Vietnam. Jim's rendition at that particular time seemed to put me on cloud nine. It was beautiful. I can remember after that game shaking Jim Parker's hand and saying these exact words "That was the most beautiful rendition of Our National Anthem I have ever heard.
Just about a year ago in the year 2010, I wrote a story titled "A Pittance of Time." This was a story of my Vietnam experiences. It was published in the Ile Camera." A few days later I received a letter which stated in part that my story was a breath of fresh air and it was worth the price of a years subscription to the Ile Camera. This letter was signed by Pamela Frucci. I called Pamela and for the first time since the credit card incident at the Post Office some twenty years earlier, I was able to talk to her again. I thanked her for her words and she invited me to attend their next Grosse Ile Creative Writers Club meeting which meets the first Monday of each month.
It was three or four weeks ago that Jim Parker was honored for his thirty five plus years of service at the Grosse Ile Presbyterian Church. After the 11:30 Service in the Fellowship Hall, Sue Hurst read a few letters honoring Jim Parker for those years of service. A few others had special tributes to Jim. I remembered that time in the High School Gym ten years earlier and wrote about it when I returned home that day. I then thought no I don't know him well enough and decided not to go forward with that story.
The next week at the Island Fest I walked with the Grosse Ile Presbyterian Church. Since I have Parkinson's, I sort of brought up the rear. Sue Hurst dropped back and walked with me. I told her my story and of my writing the letter to Jim Parker. She made me promise to complete it and told me she would save a page for it in the scrapbook. I did finish it and gave it to her the next Sunday.
Last Monday, following our creative writers club meeting Pamela Frucci drove me home from that meeting. When she pulled into my driveway I read her the letter I had written to Jim Parker. I closed that letter with these words. "Whenever I hear the playing of the Star Spangled Banner I think of Jim Parker, and when I hear the name Jim Parker, I think of the Star Spangled Banner. I then looked up at Pamela and she was in tears. She told me that the tar Spangled Banner was their wedding song. Now I'm not exactly sure how this story goes and I will probably not get it all correct but she told me words to this effect. While her and Jack were at a Teachers Convention in California, they stood next to each other during the singing of the Sar Spangled Banner. Pamela immediately fell in love with Jack's harmonizing and it didn't take long for them to fall in love with each other. I'm not really sure but I believe that is how and when they met.
As I said at the beginning the culmination of this story will be in the hands of the Church. When I say that I mean wouldn't it be fitting to ask Jim Parker to conduct the choir in the singing of the Star Spangled Banner in honor of pamela and Jack Frucci's 50th wedding anniversary which just happens to be this year?
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;eautiful. I can remember after that game, shaking Jim Parker's hand and saying these exact words to him. "?
That was the most beautiful renditon of our National Anthem I have ever heard. if
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Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
By the Grace of God
It is by the grace of God that I am able to sit here today and write this story. I was stricken with Parkinson's Disease at the age of 68. It took the better part of a year for me to realize that I wasn't only being given an incurable disease, I was also being given a gift from God. Yes, it took 69 years of my life to find out and believe that there is a God and that God is good. Thank you God for allowing me to write these stories.
This story is directed to all drivers of motor vehicles. This is especially directed to the alcoholic driver and the casual drinker, which is a person that may also be an alcoholic but would never admit to it. It is further directed to all of those who text while driving and to all of those who use a phone in any manner while driving. I might also include those who eat, drink, smoke or do anything else that might deter their attention from the job at hand and that would be driving.
I'm going to invent a word here for the purpose of this story. That would be Textaholic. It's mreaning will be anyone using a phone while driving. I would venture to say that the number of alcoholics/casual drinkers, and textaholics that drive on our roads today would total close to 50 per cent of our population. This means that 50 per cent must be more defensive minded and allow a little more distance between themselves and the alcoholics/casual drinkers and the textaholics.
Take a moment to brand yourself now, and do so once again at the end of this story. Are you an alcholic/casual drinker? Are you a Textaholic? Are you a defensive driver? I am referring to all persons that operate motor vehicles. Here are my thoughts. First the alcoholic/casual drinker. This is the category that I fit into perfectly. Even though I had several accidents in my lifetime, I was lucky enough to escape without any serious injury or God thank you, deaths. Do not for a moment think you could ever be so lucky. This is serious business.
I was always a beer drinker, ever since my late teen years. Teenagers do not drink alcohol for the taste, they drink it for the effect. If they continue to drink they may develop a taste for it and once that happens they enjoy the taste and continue drinking. They would then begin craving that taste ans soon become an alcoholic.
Throughout many years I found myself watching the clock for the end of the workday and then stopping at a bar and guzzeling down that first beer and slowly drinking the second. How many people do you think do exactly what I just said? They may or may not be as addicted as I was but how many made that stop before going home to have that drink? More often that drink that drink led to a second and sometimes more.
People in that category of alcoholic/casual drinker completely ignore or don't realize that after that second drink their body's blood alcohol content is over the limit of the law and should they be involved in an accident whether or not they were at fault they would be the guilty one once their blood alcohol count is tested.
It is plain to see that their are an awful lot of you in this category. Just try finding a parking spot in the parking lots of most of the bars around 6:00 PM. Those lots remain pretty full until around 8:;00 PM. I sometimes wonder how many drivers have been in that bar since 5:00 PM. This is when our defensive minded drivers really go to work. If you have that much of a craving for alcohol why not go home and have that first one. You could then have a second,third or more without putting innocent lives in danger.
Most accidents happen in a matter of split seconds. Your life could be forever severed that quickly by being involved in an accident with your blood alcohol level above the legal limit.
A good friend of mine, Mike, lost his precious daughter Amy to a drunk driver at the tender age of eight. Sorry Mike for the reminder, although I know you don't need a reminder since Amy remains in your foremost thoughts even today some twelve years later, but it puts a solid stamp on what I'm trying to say.
Now for the Textaholic. While there is no such word, I will call it a word for this story and define it as such: A person using a phone for any reason, a person eating, drinking, smoking or doing anything other than having his/her full time focus on their driving while operating that vehicle.
Try to remember that the purpose of driving a motor vehicle is to transport yourself and/or others from one place to another. You have their lives in your hands while doing so. If you see yourself as a textaholic as so many of you are, remember it takes only that sane split second as it does the alcoholic/casual drinker. Don't wait for it to happen to a close firend or family member as so often happens. Put your phone in your glove compartment and lock it if you have to before getting behind that wheel. It will be there when you reach your destination.
There is nothing you could give or receive from that phone while you are driving that is more valuable than your own life or the lives of innocent people. Why even take that chance? Now as I close I will ask once more: Are you an alcoholic/casual drinker? Are you a textaholic? Are you a defensive driver?
If I have steered even one person to the direction of the defense, then I feel it was worth the time and effort to write this story.
This story is directed to all drivers of motor vehicles. This is especially directed to the alcoholic driver and the casual drinker, which is a person that may also be an alcoholic but would never admit to it. It is further directed to all of those who text while driving and to all of those who use a phone in any manner while driving. I might also include those who eat, drink, smoke or do anything else that might deter their attention from the job at hand and that would be driving.
I'm going to invent a word here for the purpose of this story. That would be Textaholic. It's mreaning will be anyone using a phone while driving. I would venture to say that the number of alcoholics/casual drinkers, and textaholics that drive on our roads today would total close to 50 per cent of our population. This means that 50 per cent must be more defensive minded and allow a little more distance between themselves and the alcoholics/casual drinkers and the textaholics.
Take a moment to brand yourself now, and do so once again at the end of this story. Are you an alcholic/casual drinker? Are you a Textaholic? Are you a defensive driver? I am referring to all persons that operate motor vehicles. Here are my thoughts. First the alcoholic/casual drinker. This is the category that I fit into perfectly. Even though I had several accidents in my lifetime, I was lucky enough to escape without any serious injury or God thank you, deaths. Do not for a moment think you could ever be so lucky. This is serious business.
I was always a beer drinker, ever since my late teen years. Teenagers do not drink alcohol for the taste, they drink it for the effect. If they continue to drink they may develop a taste for it and once that happens they enjoy the taste and continue drinking. They would then begin craving that taste ans soon become an alcoholic.
Throughout many years I found myself watching the clock for the end of the workday and then stopping at a bar and guzzeling down that first beer and slowly drinking the second. How many people do you think do exactly what I just said? They may or may not be as addicted as I was but how many made that stop before going home to have that drink? More often that drink that drink led to a second and sometimes more.
People in that category of alcoholic/casual drinker completely ignore or don't realize that after that second drink their body's blood alcohol content is over the limit of the law and should they be involved in an accident whether or not they were at fault they would be the guilty one once their blood alcohol count is tested.
It is plain to see that their are an awful lot of you in this category. Just try finding a parking spot in the parking lots of most of the bars around 6:00 PM. Those lots remain pretty full until around 8:;00 PM. I sometimes wonder how many drivers have been in that bar since 5:00 PM. This is when our defensive minded drivers really go to work. If you have that much of a craving for alcohol why not go home and have that first one. You could then have a second,third or more without putting innocent lives in danger.
Most accidents happen in a matter of split seconds. Your life could be forever severed that quickly by being involved in an accident with your blood alcohol level above the legal limit.
A good friend of mine, Mike, lost his precious daughter Amy to a drunk driver at the tender age of eight. Sorry Mike for the reminder, although I know you don't need a reminder since Amy remains in your foremost thoughts even today some twelve years later, but it puts a solid stamp on what I'm trying to say.
Now for the Textaholic. While there is no such word, I will call it a word for this story and define it as such: A person using a phone for any reason, a person eating, drinking, smoking or doing anything other than having his/her full time focus on their driving while operating that vehicle.
Try to remember that the purpose of driving a motor vehicle is to transport yourself and/or others from one place to another. You have their lives in your hands while doing so. If you see yourself as a textaholic as so many of you are, remember it takes only that sane split second as it does the alcoholic/casual drinker. Don't wait for it to happen to a close firend or family member as so often happens. Put your phone in your glove compartment and lock it if you have to before getting behind that wheel. It will be there when you reach your destination.
There is nothing you could give or receive from that phone while you are driving that is more valuable than your own life or the lives of innocent people. Why even take that chance? Now as I close I will ask once more: Are you an alcoholic/casual drinker? Are you a textaholic? Are you a defensive driver?
If I have steered even one person to the direction of the defense, then I feel it was worth the time and effort to write this story.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Introduction
It is now 10:00PM on the 6th of June. I just returned from our Creative Writing Club session which we have the first Monday of each month. Our Co-Chairman and my good friend Pamela Frucci gave us our assignment for our next meeting. That would be to write a story about congratulating a Graduate. I do not see any connection between tghat subject and of my story "Living with Parkinson's.
About three years ago when I began writing on of my first stories was about how all persons and all things are connected in one way or another. I will guarantee I will make that connection. I finished writing, typing and copying "Living with Parkinson's" this past Saturday and will not be making any changes to it.
At our meeting Pamela also gave me an article from a magazine titled "The Fieldston 2010 Commencement Address" by Michael J. Fox. I was a High School drop-out. So was Michael J. Fox. I quit High School in the 12th grade. So did Michael J. Fox. I have Parkinson's Disease. So does Michael J. Fox. Do the similarities ever end? Not yet. I find myself his mirror-image as I quote Michael J. Fox "Parkinson's is a perfect metaphor for the lack of control. Every unwanted movement in my hand or are, every twitch that I cannot anticipate or arrest reminds me that even in the domain of my own being I am not calling the shots with no escape from the disease, it's symptoms and it's challenges. I was forced to resort to acceptance. My happiness grows in direct proportion to my acceptance and in inverse proportion to my expectation." Very powerful words. I would love t5o be able to read to Michael J. Fox the story you are about to read, which entails my first four years with Parkinson's.
Before I go there I must complete my assignment. How would I congratulate a graduate? How aqbout if I say congratulations and just hand out a twenty or fifty dollar bill? Then we could get on with my story. I really couldn't do that since I vowed to and I will make that connection that I spoke of earlier.
Sorry Pam, that last paragraph is not meant as disrespect in any way, it was just for a change of pace. I do intend to get serious once again. How would I congratulate a graduate? I would look deeply into that graduating class. I wouldn't have to look too deep as they are easy to spot. The physically handicapped graduate with an obvious disability. The grossly overweight female, the grossly overweight male. These are the one's who didn't enjoy school. They were not popular as most of the others were. They didn't experience boy friends or girl friends or many friends in general. There are usually one, two or more of them in most classes.
It isn't like it was back in my day. My reasons were not of physical disability but there were reasons enough. The day I turned 17 I just walked out. These kids are graduating. I would approach them, salute them, shake their hand and tell them you've made it this far kid and as Michael J. Fox said and I totally agree "Your happiness will grow in direct proportion of your acceptance." After wiping the tear from my eye I would further say if you approach a stumbling block, go around it, go over it, go through it but somehow get by it. If it is something as simple as a single word, then turn the page and read my story and see what I did.
About three years ago when I began writing on of my first stories was about how all persons and all things are connected in one way or another. I will guarantee I will make that connection. I finished writing, typing and copying "Living with Parkinson's" this past Saturday and will not be making any changes to it.
At our meeting Pamela also gave me an article from a magazine titled "The Fieldston 2010 Commencement Address" by Michael J. Fox. I was a High School drop-out. So was Michael J. Fox. I quit High School in the 12th grade. So did Michael J. Fox. I have Parkinson's Disease. So does Michael J. Fox. Do the similarities ever end? Not yet. I find myself his mirror-image as I quote Michael J. Fox "Parkinson's is a perfect metaphor for the lack of control. Every unwanted movement in my hand or are, every twitch that I cannot anticipate or arrest reminds me that even in the domain of my own being I am not calling the shots with no escape from the disease, it's symptoms and it's challenges. I was forced to resort to acceptance. My happiness grows in direct proportion to my acceptance and in inverse proportion to my expectation." Very powerful words. I would love t5o be able to read to Michael J. Fox the story you are about to read, which entails my first four years with Parkinson's.
Before I go there I must complete my assignment. How would I congratulate a graduate? How aqbout if I say congratulations and just hand out a twenty or fifty dollar bill? Then we could get on with my story. I really couldn't do that since I vowed to and I will make that connection that I spoke of earlier.
Sorry Pam, that last paragraph is not meant as disrespect in any way, it was just for a change of pace. I do intend to get serious once again. How would I congratulate a graduate? I would look deeply into that graduating class. I wouldn't have to look too deep as they are easy to spot. The physically handicapped graduate with an obvious disability. The grossly overweight female, the grossly overweight male. These are the one's who didn't enjoy school. They were not popular as most of the others were. They didn't experience boy friends or girl friends or many friends in general. There are usually one, two or more of them in most classes.
It isn't like it was back in my day. My reasons were not of physical disability but there were reasons enough. The day I turned 17 I just walked out. These kids are graduating. I would approach them, salute them, shake their hand and tell them you've made it this far kid and as Michael J. Fox said and I totally agree "Your happiness will grow in direct proportion of your acceptance." After wiping the tear from my eye I would further say if you approach a stumbling block, go around it, go over it, go through it but somehow get by it. If it is something as simple as a single word, then turn the page and read my story and see what I did.
Monday, June 6, 2011
LIVING WITH PARKINSON'S
I have written extensively about all of the subjects in this first paragraph. It is necessary for me to repeat them in order for me to tell this story. I will not be expounding on any of them other than when necessary. My name is David Dyer, I am 72 years old , and yes Dr. Wayne Dyer, author of "Your Erroneous Zones " and many other best selling books is my brother. I was in the Army for 21 years and retired in 1982. I met my wife, Janet in 1985 and my son, David-Scott was born in 1986. I have been an alcoholic most of my adult lifetime. I had never been much of a church goer and never considered myself to be a religious person. Soon after incurring a disease called Parkinson's at the age of 68, I began writing at age 69.
With all that being said let's ger on with this story. In August of 2007 I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. I researched this disease and discovered that it was not only incurable but that my condition would only worsen as time goes by. My immediate thoughts were of complete denial. I continued drinking. The medication was not working and if anything it seemed to have a negative effect when combined with alcohol. It took most of one year, some personal counseling and nine magical words from my brother, Wayne, "Do not die with your music still in you," for me to tell my Vietnam story.
I finally revealed those harrowing experiences that I had concealed within me for the past 37 years. After doing so I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from me. At this point I'd been a year into Parkinson's. My physical condition had shown no improvement but mentally I felt so much better after writing my Vietnam story.
Let's go back to those words incurable and worsen for a moment. "Janet, I am writing a story and I don't want to take time out right now. Would you get the dictionary and tell me how Webster defines the word worse?" "Certainly," she said. I'll get back to that soon. Soon after writing that story David-Scott and I visited the Vietnam Memorial or "The Wall," in Washington, DC. While there I vowed to give up alcohol completely and forever. (Three years later I am still on the wagon). "David, Janet began, "The meaning of the word worse is bad, harmful or unpleasant." "Thank you, Dear," I replied. Throughout our lives Wayne has often told me that I've always had this writing ability within me. Whatever was in me would always have a secondary effect to the alcohol which seemed to always have complete control of me.
After getting on that wagon, the lack of alcohol kept me awake at night. I soon realized that I did not need all that sleep and I began writing during those early morning hours. What could be bad, harmful or unpleasant about that?
Now let's go to Wayne's Seminar in October of 2008. This is where I met a girl named Connie. Connie has a personal story that probably would dwarf mine. Her story is yet to be written. I use the word yet in hopes that someday I will be able to do so. Connie is a Yoga instructor and today almost three years later, I continue along with Janet with our weekly Yoga sessions.
At the beginning she marveled at the way my Vietnam story was written and wanted to see more of my writing. She told me "David, you are a writer," and then added the words "writers write." I then began writing one story after another. She seems to be touched by just about everything I write and her inspiration deeply touches me. Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant?
To date I have written close to 50 short stories, mostly inspirational stories about family and friends. I also have written a book which is yet to be published titled "My Brother, Wayne and I."
In these four years since incurring Parkinson's, I have made four trips to Florida to visit my Mother. The most recent being just over a month ago. How could I be so lucky to be able to visit my Mother at the age of 72 and take her to dinner and watch a baseball game with her as we celebrate her 95th Birthday.I also want to mention here that I have come to realize and truly believe that there is a God within me. There is no way I would have stopped drinking on my own. I tried many times but to no avail. As Parkinson's was entering my body the alcohol was slowly exiting. I thank you my God for allowing me to survive another 40 years since Vietnam and to begin writing at age 69. This brings me to what I call my signature four line poem.
When I vowed to give up alcohol
Which was my life long crutch
I was given a brand new life
It became my time to touch
Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant? Now that it's been the better part of four years since Parkinson's, I believe I have completely dispelled the word "worse." If you don't believe it's completely gone you certainly will when you read what I'm about to write as I close this story.
As I said in the first paragraph, I retired from the Army in 1982 after 21 years. I'm not going to reveal any dollar amounts but my retirement pension was 52 percent of my active duty pay. That of course was not enough to live on even though I was single at the time.
For the next 29 years I continued to receive cost of living increases. Now along with social security that seemed to provide me with a livable retirement income. Recently the Veteran's Administration determined that Parkinson's Disease is connected to this substance called "Agent Orange" which was used in Vietnam to flush out the enemy.
since there was this connection the VA awarded me with what is called Combat Related Specialty Pay. That coupled with my retirement and social security has more than doubled my retirement income overnight. Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant?
So this has been my life these past four years since incurring Parkinson's. Since I've now done away with the word "worse," I look forward at the age of 72 to seeing what the next5 four years may bring. First I'll ask Janet to look up another word for me. That word would be "incurable."
With all that being said let's ger on with this story. In August of 2007 I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. I researched this disease and discovered that it was not only incurable but that my condition would only worsen as time goes by. My immediate thoughts were of complete denial. I continued drinking. The medication was not working and if anything it seemed to have a negative effect when combined with alcohol. It took most of one year, some personal counseling and nine magical words from my brother, Wayne, "Do not die with your music still in you," for me to tell my Vietnam story.
I finally revealed those harrowing experiences that I had concealed within me for the past 37 years. After doing so I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from me. At this point I'd been a year into Parkinson's. My physical condition had shown no improvement but mentally I felt so much better after writing my Vietnam story.
Let's go back to those words incurable and worsen for a moment. "Janet, I am writing a story and I don't want to take time out right now. Would you get the dictionary and tell me how Webster defines the word worse?" "Certainly," she said. I'll get back to that soon. Soon after writing that story David-Scott and I visited the Vietnam Memorial or "The Wall," in Washington, DC. While there I vowed to give up alcohol completely and forever. (Three years later I am still on the wagon). "David, Janet began, "The meaning of the word worse is bad, harmful or unpleasant." "Thank you, Dear," I replied. Throughout our lives Wayne has often told me that I've always had this writing ability within me. Whatever was in me would always have a secondary effect to the alcohol which seemed to always have complete control of me.
After getting on that wagon, the lack of alcohol kept me awake at night. I soon realized that I did not need all that sleep and I began writing during those early morning hours. What could be bad, harmful or unpleasant about that?
Now let's go to Wayne's Seminar in October of 2008. This is where I met a girl named Connie. Connie has a personal story that probably would dwarf mine. Her story is yet to be written. I use the word yet in hopes that someday I will be able to do so. Connie is a Yoga instructor and today almost three years later, I continue along with Janet with our weekly Yoga sessions.
At the beginning she marveled at the way my Vietnam story was written and wanted to see more of my writing. She told me "David, you are a writer," and then added the words "writers write." I then began writing one story after another. She seems to be touched by just about everything I write and her inspiration deeply touches me. Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant?
To date I have written close to 50 short stories, mostly inspirational stories about family and friends. I also have written a book which is yet to be published titled "My Brother, Wayne and I."
In these four years since incurring Parkinson's, I have made four trips to Florida to visit my Mother. The most recent being just over a month ago. How could I be so lucky to be able to visit my Mother at the age of 72 and take her to dinner and watch a baseball game with her as we celebrate her 95th Birthday.I also want to mention here that I have come to realize and truly believe that there is a God within me. There is no way I would have stopped drinking on my own. I tried many times but to no avail. As Parkinson's was entering my body the alcohol was slowly exiting. I thank you my God for allowing me to survive another 40 years since Vietnam and to begin writing at age 69. This brings me to what I call my signature four line poem.
When I vowed to give up alcohol
Which was my life long crutch
I was given a brand new life
It became my time to touch
Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant? Now that it's been the better part of four years since Parkinson's, I believe I have completely dispelled the word "worse." If you don't believe it's completely gone you certainly will when you read what I'm about to write as I close this story.
As I said in the first paragraph, I retired from the Army in 1982 after 21 years. I'm not going to reveal any dollar amounts but my retirement pension was 52 percent of my active duty pay. That of course was not enough to live on even though I was single at the time.
For the next 29 years I continued to receive cost of living increases. Now along with social security that seemed to provide me with a livable retirement income. Recently the Veteran's Administration determined that Parkinson's Disease is connected to this substance called "Agent Orange" which was used in Vietnam to flush out the enemy.
since there was this connection the VA awarded me with what is called Combat Related Specialty Pay. That coupled with my retirement and social security has more than doubled my retirement income overnight. Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant?
So this has been my life these past four years since incurring Parkinson's. Since I've now done away with the word "worse," I look forward at the age of 72 to seeing what the next5 four years may bring. First I'll ask Janet to look up another word for me. That word would be "incurable."
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