Other than Michael J. Fox I’m not very familiar with the disease. Not that I am totally unaware of it and not that I’m insensitive. Just that I haven’t been impacted by it.
Yet.
- - - - -
He gave me Neil Young. Actually, he taught me to love Neil Young. I had never cared for him or his music before. But when someone you love comes to you with something that they care so earnestly about, hopefully you listen. And maybe you find the bright notes of a melody that resonates between both of you.
Neil Young.
Prairie Wind.
Then there was a live concert filmed at the Ryman theater. Neil played one of Hank Williams guitars. And I fell in love.
How can someone so polarizing to my quite conservative life at the time become part of it? Because someone I loved showed me something they loved. And it mattered.
I had lunch with him yesterday. Not Neil Young, silly, but with my friend; one of the greatest supporters I think I’ve ever had when it comes to just being positive and letting me know that I matter. That my work is important, that I’m good at it and that I’m a good person. Without coddling me or making me feel like a baby he’s always showed interest, insight, and a whole hell of a lot of sarcasm.
He always talks about when I was a teacher. And it’s the one time I ever feel like I was actually good at it.
This crotchety, crusty old man from New York is one of the biggest hearts that I’ve ever met. At least to me. We typically go to lunch every couple of months at Mad Italian in Atlanta. It’s not about the food, it’s about the conversation.
I noticed about a year ago that things were changing. I could tell he was not well. I didn’t understand it and I felt like his spirit was tired. And that’s what he told me. “I went to the doctor…
…they said I have Parkinson’s.”
At first, I did a deep dive - researching and trying to gain some level of understanding of the disease. I’m not part of his every day life but I do care. Wasn’t as connected to my faith at that point in time, but I did pray. And I hoped.
So yesterday I met a man who is 30 pounds lighter, definitely showing more signs of this dreaded disease, but his mind is there. And he still loves meatball sandwiches. As we were talking, I stopped and asked how is health was. I wasn’t gonna shy away from it. I want to know how he’s doing. I want to know where his life is. Because he’s always been so beautiful in asking about mine and truly listening.
His words:
“I did a Google search and looked up boxing for Parkinson’s patients. And 1.9 miles away from my house there’s a gym we’re a little Asian lady teaches people with Parkinson’s how to box.”
How to move their muscles and how to fight - not an opponent, but to fight for life. So, twice a week my friend goes and stands in front of a punching bag and trains. Trains to live. I love the spirit I saw yesterday. I’ve always loved this man (even when I shooed him away as a translator at the deaf school when I was teaching. But that’s another story). Yesterday I saw that he’s fighting. After he left us he was going to babysit his three-month-old granddaughter. It’s a far cry from the man who two years before was honestly looking pretty bad. I’ll say that now; I never would’ve said it then.
On the way home I looked over to Rachel and said “I need to go to a trophy shop and find a set of Golden Gloves and give it to him” because he’s winning. Every day.
What I am going to do is go listen to Neil today. To honor my friend. Not because he’s passing, but because he’s living!
~ Peace
The Burtle
