Written April 1st, 2011
This is a little inspirational story that I’d love to share. My brother Wayne Dyer was recently home for a speaking engagement. When I say home I mean in the Detroit area. While here he happened to have a free day. He asked me to go along with him on a nostalgic trip. We went to both our former Cottage in Sombra, Ontario and to the boarding home where we lived in Mt Clemens, Michigan in the 1940’s. It was all very interesting but not enough to write about. Then came the highlight of our trip.
We went to the small town house duplex we lived in on Moross Road on the East side of Detroit. We knocked on the door and Wayne introduced us and said that we used to live in this house back in the 1950’s. Wayne asked if we could look through the house. It was now occupied by an African American family. They were very friendly and welcomed us into their home. This family consisted of a father, a mother and a sixteen year old daughter. The mother was not at home at the time as she was working at a job that paid barely minimum wage. We’ll call the father William and the daughter, Mary.
William was laid off and his workers compensation was about to end. Mary was a junior at Denby High School. This was the same school that we all went to in the 50’s. Mary also had a part time job at McDonalds.
What a memorable feeling we had as we walked through that house. Mary had that upstairs nine by nine room to herself. This was the same room that all three of us shared. It wasn’t even big enough for her. The attic where Mother would hide Christmas presents was still there as was the Terrace that was connected to the kitchen and dining room. The refrigerator was in the same spot. The kitchen table and the ping pong table were the same ones we left there in the 50’s. I told Mary the story of the caramel cakes.
We went through the basement where we used to listen to Tiger baseball games. I told William that I remembered listening at this very spot as Virgil Trucks pitched his second no-hitter of the year in 1952. I also commented on the basement steps where we would sit and shine our shoes.
Wayne explained to William how we never needed a key to enter the house. He told him how we would climb up to the top of the roof and down the other side to the roof of the terrace and enter through the bedroom window.
Wayne talked at length with Mary and of her future aspirations. She seemed to think her reality would find her working full time at McDonalds and maybe someday become a manager.
As we were about to leave Wayne said to William that he spotted what appeared to be a dollar bill folded on the ground of his driveway. William picked it up and unfolded a one hundred dollar bill. Wayne said if he found that in his driveway he would take his family to dinner. William’s tears were real. He thought he was dreaming.
When we got to the car to leave Wayne said he forgot something. We walked back to Mary and Wayne told her “Since you are living in my house and sleeping in my bedroom and going to my school, you just can’t stop now.” He then presented her with a scholorship to his alma mater, Wayne State University. After seeing her reaction, even my tears were real.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Parkinson's, My First Four Years
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 sellers 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. IO incurred this disease called Parkinson's at the age of 68 and began writing at the age of 69.
With all that being said let's get 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 affect 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 e for the past 37 years. After doing so it frelt like a ton ofd bricks had been lifted from me. At this point I'd been a year into Parkinson's. My physical condition has 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 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. (It is not three years later and 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 going on the 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 October of 2008, where at Wayne's Seminar I would meet a girl named Connie. Connie has a personal story that probably would dwarf mine. Her story has yet to be written. I use the word yet in hopes that some day 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." She then added the words "writer's write." I 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 fifty of these 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 past four years since incurring Parkinson's, I have made four trips to Florida to visit my Mother. The most recent being this past April. 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 woulde have stopped drinking on my own. I tried too many times 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 the age of 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 to 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 of this story, 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 per cent 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 Veterans Administration determined that Parkinson's Disease is connected to this substance called "Agent Orange" which was used to flush out the enemy in Vietnam. Since there was this connection the VA has awarded me what is called Combat Related Specialty Pay. That, coupled with my retirement pay has doubled my retirement compensation overnight. Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant?
So this has been my life since incurring Parkinson's. Since I've done away with thew word "worse," I look forward at the age of 72 to seeing what the next four years may bring. First I'll ask Janet to look up another word for me. That would be "incurable."
With all that being said let's get 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 affect 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 e for the past 37 years. After doing so it frelt like a ton ofd bricks had been lifted from me. At this point I'd been a year into Parkinson's. My physical condition has 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 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. (It is not three years later and 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 going on the 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 October of 2008, where at Wayne's Seminar I would meet a girl named Connie. Connie has a personal story that probably would dwarf mine. Her story has yet to be written. I use the word yet in hopes that some day 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." She then added the words "writer's write." I 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 fifty of these 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 past four years since incurring Parkinson's, I have made four trips to Florida to visit my Mother. The most recent being this past April. 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 woulde have stopped drinking on my own. I tried too many times 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 the age of 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 to 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 of this story, 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 per cent 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 Veterans Administration determined that Parkinson's Disease is connected to this substance called "Agent Orange" which was used to flush out the enemy in Vietnam. Since there was this connection the VA has awarded me what is called Combat Related Specialty Pay. That, coupled with my retirement pay has doubled my retirement compensation overnight. Bad? Harmful? Unpleasant?
So this has been my life since incurring Parkinson's. Since I've done away with thew word "worse," I look forward at the age of 72 to seeing what the next four years may bring. First I'll ask Janet to look up another word for me. That would be "incurable."
Monday, July 18, 2011
Summer Activity
Without a doubt my favorite summer activity is and always has been the game of baseball. My love for that game for most of my life would be as a fan since my playing days were over in my mid teenage years. I do have a couple of baseball stories to share. The first one being very early in my lifetime and the second was rather recent.
When my brother Wayne and I lived in Mt Clemens in the 1940's we discovered a love for that game. We taught each other how to play the game. I can remember cutting out box scores from newspapers and pasting tghem in scrapbooks. After moving to Moross at the end of the baseball season we'd put a baseball in the pocket of our gloves and tie it tight so it would be ready for the next spring.
In the year of 1952 that spring seemed to come early. Now when I use the term "Playing on Moross," that means playing on the island that separates the east and the west sides of Moross Road. Itr is large enough to play catch on. It is even large enough to play football on which we did several times. So this February spring day in 1952 we played catch on Moross. A couple of other kids soon joined us. I was thirteen and Wayne was twelve. One of those kids seemed to be huge for his age of twelve. He towered over all of us and really threw that baseball hard. This was the year that I noticed what you might call my growth spurt.
Wayne showed us an ad in the Superman comic book where it showed a 97 pound weakling getting sand kicked in his face at the beach, when he decided he had taken enugh he turned himself into Charles Atlas and got his revenge. We all started doing sit-ups and push-ups and running. Wayne and I were in better physical shape than we ever had been.
We went to the gymnasium with our new friend, where we learned to play basketball. This kid already knew the game and seemed to be better at it than anyone else and he was only twelve years old. Believe me, I am not making this up. He then told us of an American Legion Baseball League he would be playing in. He was going to be in the 13-14 year old league.
We rounded up enough kids and put a team into that league and it just so happened that we played our first game against this same kid, who was still only twelve years old. No one could hit him. He seemed to strike out just about everyone he faced.
When I look back on it even today, I think of how proud I was just to be able to stand up to the plate and take my three swings. Yes, it was an honor to have known, befriended and played baseball and basketball with Dave DeBusschere.
Dave became an All State baseball and basketball player at Austin High School. He was also an All-American at the University of Detroit and went on to a Hall of Fame career with the New York Knickerbockers. He eventually became the Commissioner of the American Basketball Association. He was truly one of the greatest athletes of our time. It was an honor to have known him.
Now let's go forward to the year of 2006. Actually it was more like 2001 when I began playing fantasy sports. In fantasy sports it takes about 75 per cent luck and 25 per cent skill and knowledge to really compete for the big prize. This I not only competed for in 2006 but I won first place over several thousand teams. This was the playoffs of 2w006 when the Tigers were in the World Series against St Louis. I was placed in their Hall of Fame for winning and also received the $5000.00 first place prize.
Now for a little footnote to this story. Can you imagine three young boys, ages 12-13 playing catch on Moross in the early '50s. All three of them would one day wind up n the Hall of Fame in three completely different categories. Dave DeBusschere for Basketball, Wayne Dyer for International Speaking and David Dyer? Well why not? For Fantasy Sports.
When my brother Wayne and I lived in Mt Clemens in the 1940's we discovered a love for that game. We taught each other how to play the game. I can remember cutting out box scores from newspapers and pasting tghem in scrapbooks. After moving to Moross at the end of the baseball season we'd put a baseball in the pocket of our gloves and tie it tight so it would be ready for the next spring.
In the year of 1952 that spring seemed to come early. Now when I use the term "Playing on Moross," that means playing on the island that separates the east and the west sides of Moross Road. Itr is large enough to play catch on. It is even large enough to play football on which we did several times. So this February spring day in 1952 we played catch on Moross. A couple of other kids soon joined us. I was thirteen and Wayne was twelve. One of those kids seemed to be huge for his age of twelve. He towered over all of us and really threw that baseball hard. This was the year that I noticed what you might call my growth spurt.
Wayne showed us an ad in the Superman comic book where it showed a 97 pound weakling getting sand kicked in his face at the beach, when he decided he had taken enugh he turned himself into Charles Atlas and got his revenge. We all started doing sit-ups and push-ups and running. Wayne and I were in better physical shape than we ever had been.
We went to the gymnasium with our new friend, where we learned to play basketball. This kid already knew the game and seemed to be better at it than anyone else and he was only twelve years old. Believe me, I am not making this up. He then told us of an American Legion Baseball League he would be playing in. He was going to be in the 13-14 year old league.
We rounded up enough kids and put a team into that league and it just so happened that we played our first game against this same kid, who was still only twelve years old. No one could hit him. He seemed to strike out just about everyone he faced.
When I look back on it even today, I think of how proud I was just to be able to stand up to the plate and take my three swings. Yes, it was an honor to have known, befriended and played baseball and basketball with Dave DeBusschere.
Dave became an All State baseball and basketball player at Austin High School. He was also an All-American at the University of Detroit and went on to a Hall of Fame career with the New York Knickerbockers. He eventually became the Commissioner of the American Basketball Association. He was truly one of the greatest athletes of our time. It was an honor to have known him.
Now let's go forward to the year of 2006. Actually it was more like 2001 when I began playing fantasy sports. In fantasy sports it takes about 75 per cent luck and 25 per cent skill and knowledge to really compete for the big prize. This I not only competed for in 2006 but I won first place over several thousand teams. This was the playoffs of 2w006 when the Tigers were in the World Series against St Louis. I was placed in their Hall of Fame for winning and also received the $5000.00 first place prize.
Now for a little footnote to this story. Can you imagine three young boys, ages 12-13 playing catch on Moross in the early '50s. All three of them would one day wind up n the Hall of Fame in three completely different categories. Dave DeBusschere for Basketball, Wayne Dyer for International Speaking and David Dyer? Well why not? For Fantasy Sports.
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