Our middle child once became very angry with me about something. I no longer recall the context of the outburst. But his thought was this, “I want to do more than just hold the board!”.
It may mean little to you as you read this. But to us, he and me, it spoke volumes. When David was very little, I was in my prime wood working years. I gave him a pair of safety glasses and showed him some safety things. What to do and not do. Often when crosscutting a board with a hand saw I would let him hold the board to steady it.
Later on in life he wanted to use the saw.
When people say, “She’s a good-looking woman,” they usually mean, “She used to be a good looking woman.” But when I say that about Margaret, I mean it. She thinks—she knows-that she‘s changed, and she has; though less to me than to anybody else. Naturally, I can’t speak for the restaurant manager. But I’d put it like this: she sees only what’s gone, I see only what‘s stayed the same. Her hair is no longer halfway down her back or pulled up in a French pleat; nowadays it is cut close to her skull and the grey is allowed to show. Those peasanty frocks she used to wear have given way to cardigans and well—cut trousers. Some of the freckles I once loved are now closer to liver spots. But it’s still the eyes we look at, isn’t it? That’s where we found the other person, and ﬁnd them still. The same eyes that were in the same head when we ﬁrst met, slept together, married, honeymooned, joint-mortgaged, shopped, cooked and holidayed, loved one another and had a child together… [Julian Barnes in “The Sense of an Ending”]
What a beautiful sentiment. Its true with the advantage of age, its easy to look back and see these same things in the person I love. Thank you, Julian.
Memories come from the tiniest bit of action. I was pouring a Coke into my glass. That simple act sent my mind to recall a time when I was very young watching my father collecting water from a spring in the side of a cliff. It’s like a snap shot. As I write this I can examine more detail. We were in a 52 Ford sedan. It was painted a brownish pink tan color. The spring came out of a crack in the rock close to the side of the road. Someone had pushed a piece of pipe into the crack to make it easier to fill bottles and buckets. Dad was filling empty coke bottles.
Strange what will trigger a memory.
A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do. -Bob Dylan
Recently I tripped over this quote attributed to Bob Dylan. Can this be so? My thought is this, in between morning and night may be many things that, although, one may not want to do them, they are necessary. Who for example desires to do the laundry? Clean toilets? Dust? I imagine there may be those who long to do these things. Not I. Blow your ass in the wind, Bob. I still think of myself as successful.
Success might better be described as comfort in your own skin with what you do with what you have. Me I’m skilled at fixing things. I’ve always wondered how things work. My favorite YouTube videos are typically labelled with the word “how”. So, if I’ve fixed something that day, I was successful. No cure or complete relief is available for Parkinson’s disease. So far that is unsuccessful.
I found another quote attributed to Lady Gaga (Stephanie Joanne Germanotta) ; I realized that part of my identity is saying no to things I don’t wanna do… It is your right to choose what you do and don’t do. It is your right to choose what you believe in and don’t believe in. It is your right to curate your life and your own perspective. This woman is an outlier in her perspective and perception and far above average at her craft. Her success and life philosophy model each other. And what wonderful voice she has.
I am unsuccessful at staving off the creeping scope of the effect of Parkinson’s disease on our daily lives. It seems often there is some new something to deal with. Thank you Stephanie for your insight and philosophy. You have helped me look inward and find comfort and solice in what I do and how I give care to Cheryl. I choose to not curate our life with this insidious creeping disability. I strive for success at living in spite of the effects of PD.