by Al Van Dyk | Sep 27, 2018 | Attitude is Everything
We all have them, memories that remind us of a time or place that we would prefer not to revisit brought back to the forefront by the utterance of a single word; a word that has an unexplainable power to rattle us to our core. I admit it’s been a while since my last visit. There is a reason that I stayed away. For the past few years, the month of September serves marker of sorts, and with it comes emotions that bubble up. I now tend to think of events in terms of pre-September and post-September 2011. It will be seven years ago, this month that a man in a white lab coat with letters behind his name introduced a new word in my vocabulary.
The City of Champions
Greetings from Pittsburgh, the only place I know of where a penguin, a pirate, a parrot and an 8-foot tall Pierogi walking into a bar is an everyday occurrence. This weekend, I had the opportunity to attend an event in a city with a rich football history; the town with players named Bradshaw, Harris, and Bettis creating their legacies for their passion for the sport and their dedication to winning. This weekend, I had a chance to meet some extraordinary people who deserve the same honors.
Some would consider him an ordinary Joe, a man who gave up a job he loved driving a school bus because a lab coat guy handed him a new adjective to describe himself. Then there was Molly, a 30-something daughter, who was putting her life on hold so she could walk beside her overwhelmed father navigate his new reality. Then there was a stately older couple, leaning on each other, who organized the event that rallied so many to their cause. Selfless acts that are seldom seen in our self-centered world.
Words Matter
How can a few words change someone’s life so dramatically? I didn’t ask that lab coat guy to change me; all I wanted him to do was to fix that one broken part. Isn’t that what we want; to be allowed to correct only the parts that we think are broken — to live as though everything spins in our orbit and is held in place by our magnetism? That those things that are in our obit are there because we choose for them to be there and what we don’t want them there, we can shove aside?
Strangely, those things that we shove out of our orbits tend to come crashing back, usually at times and in ways that are the most public and invasive. The very thing, that I thought I was so good at hiding from the masses these past few years is beginning to show itself in times and in ways that are inconvenient and public.
I thought it would get easier as time passes, to be able to put those emotions somewhere safe, locked up tighter than Newman’s mailbag where they are out of sight and out of mind. But they seem to come crashing back, year after year, with a little more punch than the year before. It’s like a bad joke with a punchline that is unsuitable for this high-brow audience.
With that, I will leave you with this,
“A penguin, a pirate his parrot and an 8-foot tall Pierogi walk into a bar…”
Welcome to my extraordinary life. Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Ivy, a penguin, is an aquatic, flightless bird that lives predominantly in the southern hemisphere. Yes, they do well in the cold. Why do you ask?
Al and his faithful, but sociable sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
Your right Ivy, We need to be good neighbors and invite a waddle over to visit; it would give us a reason to keep the pool open this winter. After, It is the least we can do save the planet in the name of climate change.
Do you want to teach them how to play hockey?
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by Al Van Dyk | Sep 3, 2018 | Attitude is Everything
With a name like Garden of the Gods, you would think I would feel right at home. After all, that is the treatment that I expect. I do expect my plane to be ready to leave when I board and the flight attendant to hand me a bag of their finest pretzels before the flight ends. But there is much more to being a god than just thinking of ourselves as one. If it were so, everyone would have business cards made up, find a megaphone, and claim their spot on the beach.
We are gods?
Who could forget that unforgettable movie, with a title that currently escapes me, starring Shirley MacClaine where she is standing on a beach screaming, “I am god.” I would like to know how she was able to get those red rocks to jettison straight up 500 or 600 feet, or stack boulders as if they are pebbles or shape mountains as quickly as a child molds play-dough. Hopefully, she has people for those menial tasks. After all, it would be beneath someone of her star power to create landmarks for generations to enjoy and ponder upon. If she is a god, her orbit must be as expansive as a Jelly Belly, and her universe the size of a tennis ball.
I never thought that a god would get winded; but it must be exhausting to be a self-claimed god, getting showered in all that love and affection for everything we do to elevate ourselves above our subjects. How does one find staffing? To find someone who is willing to risk taking a lightning bolt for the team, the time-honored punishment for blasphemy, for embossing a dozen business cards in faux gold, is a position that even Zip-Recruiter can’t fill!
There is a God
A name like Garden of the Gods conjures up images of a place where the gods once found relief from their whiny and demanding subjects. Can you imagine the Creator vying for style points for stacking rocks? I suspect that he was gracious, and tried not to crush the fragile egos of Ms. MacClaine and the others. When the contest was over, He left his creation there for us mere mortals to marvel and ponder upon.
and I am not Him
In some ways, Parkinson’s has been a blessing. It may sound a little awkward to try to articulate but in many respects its true. Had it not been for my disease, it is unlikely that I would have taken the time to see the breathtaking colors of a sunset in Sedona, the majesty of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, or now the creativity the Garden of the Gods. This past weekend was just a not-so-subtle reminder that there is a Creator that spoke all of these into existence and I am not Him. Who does He think that He needs to impress anyway? He did it to impress stubborn and forgetful people like me. Recently, I had to admit to myself that I live with a degenerative condition, or better said, that my disease is degenerative. I have known that it was for some time, seven years to be specific, only recently did I begin to feel like I do. Parkinson’s is like that; it is more like moving between plateaus than following it through a linear progression. The battle is, and will continue to be, a to fight to get back the ground that is slipping away.
Rest is Best
Walking through the Garden of the Gods, watching those more adventurous than I scale the vertical faces of the rocks served as a reminder that not every day do we get to have a mountaintop experience; and where there is a mountain, there is a valley. There are days that we have to work a little harder to do what we did yesterday with less effort. It doesn’t mean that we have to quit fighting, it just means that we need to expect to have a little less energy at the end of the day to do the things that we love to do, and in those valleys, we can find rest.
I used to think of rest as just another four-letter word, defined by the elites, and the movers and shakers as spending countless hours in a Lazy-boy, downing a bottle of Crown Royal and a bag of Dorito’s, glued to reruns of the Simpsons. Only recently did I embrace the notion that rest is necessary for the journey that lies ahead, to provide us with enough energy to get back on the side of the hill and continue with the climb.
The View
There is a mountaintop experience that awaits. It just might mean that we can finally donate that Lazy-boy to U of M’s coaching staff and the leave the Doritos for their egocentric mascot; which bears a striking resemblance to an overweight gopher in need of a manicure. As for the Crown Royal, glass bottles don’t travel well, so we might want to invest in a flask. I suspect that there will be a celebration in our future on top of that mountain and it will come in handy.
If I offended any of the three remaining Shirley MacClaine fans, I sincerely apologize. I am sure that her dominion will last as long as a blip on the Weather Channel’s Doppler radar; the one that is tracking the wind storm about to extinguish a Burning Man. If she is lucky, she can hand off her megaphone to the next celebrity needing to breathe life into a dying career. Mr. Depp, the beach is all yours.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Ivy and I need to run to the pet store. She wants me to find her a flask that will fit in her service apron.
Al and his faithful, but well-hydrated sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
I can’t answer that question right now, Ivy. I’m not sure how you will get the top off. Usually, you wait to get a drink until someone leaves the seat up!
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by Al Van Dyk | Jul 22, 2018 | Pivot Points
What dreams do you dream that keep you up at night? Do you dream of a car that glistens or a dog that listens? Or maybe you dream that work days are shorter and vacations are longer? It wasn’t all that long ago that aspirations of obtaining life’s finer things consumed many of my hour’s between dusk and dawn. Even dreams of world domination, hypothetically speaking, robbed me of a night or two. What if it’s not the dreams that keep me awake at night? What if there is something more?
Mr. Mitty; Mr…
A few months back I was told by a man in a white lab coat that I might want to consider a mobility aid to help me move around more safely when I’m awake at night. It wasn’t exactly what I expected to hear. The “Walter Mitty” in me will still take me to places where I am ageless, fearless, and even walk with a swagger; unappealing as it was to so many. It’s easy to see how Mitty could find excitement in buying a rollator. He would equip his with all the weaponry he needed to fight injustice, not just help him get to the refrigerator. Maybe, I will be lucky and find an off-lease model equipped with James Bond-style gadgets and the sex-appeal of a new Benz or a 7-series. It is an injustice if I can’t reach the refrigerator.
It is Mitty’s imagination that takes him to places where he is larger than life, and everything around him blurs into his make-believe world. But Walter can’t stay in his make-believe world forever. Sooner, rather than later someone will, unwittingly, take him back from the exciting places that his mind has taken him. Whether it’s the voice of an angry parking attendant, or his wife yelling at him to stop driving too fast, there is always an unwelcome intruder that jolts him back to reality.
She Knows
I wonder what my lovely wife knows of the dreams I dream at night? On more than one occasion, it felt like I was the olive in a martini mixer, both shaken and stirred. I wonder if she knows that in the dreams I dream, the dragons I battle die quicker and my days with her last longer? I wonder if she knows that if I can hold on just a little longer, I will finish off the trolls that taunt me once and for all? Does she know in the dreams I dream…it is she that I am fighting to protect; that I’m not on the couch but asleep next to her?
Order Up!
Both our dreams and our imagination are powerful; they can free us to envision a world where the possibilities are endless, the liquor is cheap and the ice cream is free. We *can be* the hero in an engaging story. Do you dream of a new day with an original story to tell or do you prefer to relive a chapter in a story that is already written? What would Walter do?
But there was always someone, disconnected from Mitty’s world, that would pop into Walter’s and take him back to reality. At times, an unwelcome tap on the shoulder or a street-vendor yelling in his ear would yank him back home. Do we really need someone to bring us back home, someone who has no idea where we are or where we have been, to tap us on the shoulder to tell us that our French Fries are ready?
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
I know the dreams she dreams at night; dreams that our years together will be many and our home is full, dreams that my gait is rhythmic and my arms swing freely. In her dreams, the aisles I walk our daughters down aren’t lined with groceries or mobility aids. Dare to dream, Darling — dare to dream!
What are the dreams you dream at night? At one point did you dream of leaving your mark and now worry that you are running out of runway and might even miss your chance to be a “one-hit-wonder?” Or are you like me? You still dream of a life filled with achievements, maybe each a little smaller or less grandiose, but each in their way shaping the world in the way that you think it should be.
What are the dreams you dream that keep you up at night?
Is it the dreams you dream that keep you up at night, or are you awake because you are one of the few, a misfit, that find the waking hours are much more engaging than the dreams you dream?
“I got them, thanks, buddy.”
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Ivy is still asleep, on her back with all fours in the air. It sounds like she is enjoying a dream of her own — probably playing, Go Fish with her new BFF, the Geezer.
Al and his faithful, but napping sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
I thought you were asleep, Ivy. Sure, you can have my French Fries.
It is good to be back, Ivy!
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by Al Van Dyk | Jul 4, 2018 | Through Ivy's Eyes
I bet you didn’t think that you would find me here, sitting on the sidewalk without my chain. It’s okay. It was time for me to grow up. I can’t expect him to chase me down the road forever. It was fun while it lasted. And people say that a dog’s ears flop when they run.
I wonder when he is going to start writing again. Lately, I have written more than he has, and when it comes to writing, I’m a dog. I still hear him up and about but I’m not sure what he’s doing in his office at all hours of the morning. Maybe he’s trading cryptocurrency. That would explain the bowling words he is using. Perhaps he is looking for a new sidekick. I admit I haven’t been protecting him as I should.
He took it pretty hard when I told him I wanted to liberation from his oppressive rules. I’m a Golden, and I’m housebroken. I shouldn’t need a collar or a leash for that matter. He had a fit when it looked like I took a knee at the last event we attended. How can he expect me to stand at attention when some little kid is trying to put his finger in my ear. I like my scratches behind the ear; Thank you, very much. I am still trying to talk my way around holding up a clenched paw in the air.
He doesn’t realize how much I want my own life and I don’t always want to be just a sidekick. I want to get top billing. I bet dog lovers would come in droves to see me. I can’t speak for the cat ladies, but then who can? I have a compelling story. At least five of my siblings were all kidnapped. I was one of 8 siblings growing up on a farm. We minded our own business when a mom and a dad drove up in a mini-van. A pile of kids jumped out and started playing with us. The next thing I knew, the littlest of them put one of my siblings in a box, and they drove off with him in the back of a van. There was only three of us left when it happened to me. I was kidnapped, too. I was crated like a dog. We were in the car for what seemed like days, maybe even weeks, before we ended up where we live now. They let me out to play in the grass, but it isn’t like the farm. There aren’t any big animals around; just a cat, a house cat of all things.
It wasn’t long before he fitted me with a vest and told me that I would be his sidekick. I still am not sure what them means. I feel more like a scapegoat. I get blamed for everything. Even some puddles that I don’t think are mine. I wouldn’t mind the title of sidekick if I were treated like Spock on Star Trek. Now there is a gig that I would like. I would get to drive the spaceship and chase Tribbles around. Tribbles look like a big hamster and probably taste a lot like chicken.
I think my job is to keep him safe and make sure he doesn’t do any stupid. I haven’t been able to stop him from the fattening stuff. I try to steal his ice cream every chance I get. It is for his own good; at least its good for me. I should get back to the grind. He is having me check his grammar now. He should know that there is an app for that, one the understands English, no less. I tired of being chained to a desk. I am so ready to be liberated. I don’t know who reads this stuff anyway.
Don’t worry I won’t run off and leave him stranded. I’m not a beagle. I will stay by his side as long as he wants me around. I know his soft spot. If I give him those sad eyes, I can get a bowl of ice cream out of him every time. Right now, my focus needs to get him writing again. A little more exercise will do him some good as well.
Maybe he needs me to help motivate him. I know, I will jump on his bed and put my paw in his ear. I bet that will wake him up.
Maybe he needs me to help motivate him. I know, I will jump on his bed and put my paw in his ear. I bet that will wake him up.
Thanks for reading,
Ivy, a friend to many, sidekick to one.
I’ll be fine; I can outrun him.
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by Al Van Dyk | Jun 25, 2018 | Attitude is Everything
Exciting news! There is a place in society for people like me! We may walk a little differently, at times move less fluidly, or maybe even develop speech patterns that are hard for the listener to follow. The marketplace prefers not to engage our non-conformity, but those are the rules of the sandbox. Just another obstacle with which to contend. It serves as even more motivation to tell our story in a way that humanizes our plight, not in search of pity, but for understanding why this is a battle worthy of our efforts.
The Greatest Showman
It’s one of my favorites; a great movie, in my opinion, one of the few I sat through to the end and one of the handful that I own earning a spot next to American Sniper and Lord of the Rings.
It’s message; misfits can find a place to belong. The movie tells the story of the visionary P. T. Barnum who saw something of value in those his society didn’t embrace. Both the celebrated and commoner alike considered them to be freaks and oddities, pushing them into the shadows. P. T. befriended, and at times exploited, their uniqueness, drawing them out of the darkness giving them a place in the limelight.
Blind Sided
Not all days are good days. It’s essential that the reader understands that there are times an integral part of the story must be told in its correct and unvarnished form even when the nerves are raw. In reality, all things warm and fuzzy fill very few days, and a pom-pom waving cheerleader cannot soothe every emotion that accompanies a denigration of one’s health. I can assure you that there are no pleated skirts in my closet.
Parkinson’s progresses in a non-linear fashion with changes in symptoms seemingly coming out of nowhere, along with each comes uncertainty and confusion. Subtle nuances feel like seismic shifts, as muscles tighten making walking problematic, tremors return relegating the clean shirt to a fond memory, or the efficacy of a successful treatment plan suddenly goes south. Each serves as a reminder that the disease is taking greater control of one’s own body.
These shifts have consequences, both economically and socially. In my case, the idea that something would come along and jeopardize my ability to maintain an active lifestyle or interfere the advancement of my career, extending it beyond my late 50’s never hit the radar. In the years preceding my diagnosis, there was nothing in my playbook to prepare me for something like this. Assuring my lovely wife that a walker can be repurposed as an extra closet rod to hang my dress shirts, or double serve as a portable potting bench to grow my pharmaceuticals, assuming the state legalizes it for medicinal purposes was never a conversation that I thought I would have.
Hope in Progress
We have hope, buoyed by advances in research in understanding the disease and progress made in treatment plans. New drugs are in the pipeline and coming to market that may provide relief to many and hope for all. Some would go so far as saying that it’s a great time to have PD and a cure is around the corner. But hope is still an emotion, and relying on feelings alone to carry the day can be as fickle as relying on the wind to take us to our destination.
Strength in Optimism
We are not alone in our struggle and do not need to be ill-equipped to fight this battle. Many of us have banded together, supporting each other, in the only way we know how by focusing on the positive and sharing in each other’s victories, no matter how small. In many ways, we see ourselves as misfits, now much different from who we once were, impaired in some respects, but much stronger, more resilient and insightful in others. This fight is our fight; we must be willing to use every weapon at our disposal if we expect to make a difference. Some days we miss the mark, but with tomorrow, we get the chance to redeem ourselves from how we falter today.
Fight we Must
We fight this fight because we must; this battle came to us. We will win because we can with the help of those that walk by our side and at times, in our place. For every misfit, there is someone who has been there, shining a light, illuminating the path on a dark and mysterious journey.
If you are interested in sharing your story, Contact me. I look forward to sharing yours and connecting it with those engaged in this battle. Welcome to the front lines.
Ivy will be sitting this one out. She has found peace; sleeping on the couch laying on her back with all four’s in the air. Sometimes I forget she’s not just my sidekick, she’s a dog!
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Al and his faithful, but rested sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
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