The walk of Life

[Rager <jrager@xxxxxxxxxx>]

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Dear Friends:
    Another story.  A little lighter, I think, than those previously =
shared.  A grand hug and thank you to one of our number who kindly has =
taken the time to edit this piece and give me the kind of support one =
writer gives another.  (aside:  I feel abundantly fortunate in having =
found this group of people.  The blessings that come with this damn =
disease are few...but there are some, and you, my friends, well somedays =
being with you just keeps me going, it really does.)

TITLE:   The Walk of Life

    The last image I have of my mother is the back of her small grey =
head in the large front window of the house where I grew up.  With a =
quick bat of her eyes she had an uninterrupted view of both the TV and =
our street.  Chewing on her nails, with a cigarette in the ash tray, a =
crossword puzzle on her lap, her stockinged legs wound around each other =
and the television blaring, she would spend much of her idle time =
thinking of ways to make me into a lady.  She believed fiercely that the =
best way to look like one, was to walk right.  Ladies moved, glided, =
eased, with grace, charm and elegance.  Posture straight, head a balloon =
of air, never bouncing, floating rather, above extended shoulders. =
Ladies must never thump, strut, stride or swagger. Running was out of =
the question, unless absolutely necessary.   A deft smile, not too =
generous, a smirking, secretive thing, that danced mysteriously under =
the nose was the key to success.  These were the lessons for survival  =
my mother wanted me to learn.  "They'll do you all your life," she'd =
say.  And she might have been right, had I not, with many hopefull years =
of moving and smiling still ahead,  developed Parkinson's Disease.=20
    Reflecting on these early years, I have happily landed in a place in =
my acceptance of this disease where I can laugh, with compassion, at the =
futility of my mother's good intentions.
    At the age of 4, I was packed off to ballet school once a week in =
order to learn how to glide, float and quietly tiptoe. Gentle Miss =
Eleanor beamed love and warmth, discipline and focus on our little =
uncoordinated bodies for years.  We worked hard on pirouettes, and =
plies. We jumped, kicked and danced and danced and danced across the =
floor, in perfect synchronicity to the music and each other.  When I was =
twelve years old I was good enough to trade my slippers for a pair of =
toe shoes.  The transition was too much for me.  The wrapping of the =
toes in sheep's wool before practice, the unwrapping of the bloody feet =
afterward was too grinding a procedure just to learn how to walk right, =
and I begged to be let out.
    My mother agreed, but so as not to lose any ground (I was turning =
into an awful gangly teenager with either a coarse mouth or a sullen =
pout depending on the day) I was immediately enrolled in elocution =
classes.  Here I learned more pointers about being ladylike: how to sit =
perfectly still for endless time; how to walk with a book on the head; =
how to speak softly but nonetheless to make a point (any point); how not =
to attract attention.  Those lessons have so far touched almost every =
one of my shuffling, tremoring, rocking, nodding, and jerking symptoms =
of this hideous fiend living in my body.  (Some days I would very much =
like to make a point, if I could remember what it was that I started to =
say.)
    Our study material also had poingent lessons for me then and in a =
converse way, for me now.  One book was entitled "Charming You".  It =
purported to cover all the bases of possible intended movement.  The =
underlying folly was the author's assumption that there is only one way =
to to approach a chair, exit a chair, enter a room, walk through and =
close a door, bend down (knees only please) to pick up something, or =
turn.
There is only one way, of course, if you want to be a lady.  One of the =
more salient chapters is entitled "What to do with your feet while =
standing".  Here's a clip:
    "The hesitation stance: You have been walking and now have stopped, =
with one foot ahead of the other. Putting your weight on the foot in =
front, slowly slide the back foot (heel up, off floor) forward until its =
instep is at the heel of the front foot.  This is something no man would =
do. But it's so pretty on you.":
And another shows women how to check out their "bobbing" as they trickle =
along a city street.
    "The store front window check: Watch the top of your head.  Is it =
shooting up and down like an erratic stock market report or does it =
glide smoothly along, parallel to the window frame, as if you were on a =
skate-board?"
    Before I was diagnosed with Parkinson's, I found these instructions =
humorous in a sort of appauling way;  a great discredit to the =
upbringing of young women, a negation of their character or mental =
development, and an intensity of focus on the trivial, the flaky, the =
insignificant status in society young women were being prepared for.  I =
have trotted these volumes out from time to time and shared them with my =
adolescent students, who are righteously angered by the underlying =
assumptions these lessons represent. =20
    But now  I have Parkinson's Disease and the paradigm has shifted.  I =
see these illustrations differently.  As contorted as it may seem, it =
would be fun to just once more before I die, be able to=20
"Walk directly to the chair, neither rushing nor dawdling.  Maintain =
your good posture every step of the way.  This is one of the most =
important times to remember to lead with your thighs, because of a =
tendency to lean the body way forward and to bend the knees as if =
sitting, thus giving a sitting walk demonstration all the way to the =
chair.  Your walk, except for the direction you are taking, should not =
even indicate that you plan to sit."  If only I could do that......  =
Now, that I've lost my chance I want it back.
    However I do have hope.   A  few months ago I started on the drug =
Requip.  While doing nothing noticeable for my tremor, it has still had =
a major effect.  I feel a new control of my gross motor movement.   I =
noticed the other day while walking down the hallway of my school, that =
my feet were planting themselves more firmly in front of me.  I had a =
rhythm, a beat.  I started to go with it.  Let the meter lead me. My =
strides became longer.  I was moving.  I started to smile, a broad, =
generous, toothy smile.  And for the first time ever, I turned my feet =
out to the side and swaggered! I swaggered, and bopped and bounced.  I =
got my arms into it and swung them with vigor.  I was flying! =20
    If the little grey head in the window were alive today, and could =
have seen me, she would, I know, have forgiven me.  She might even have =
applauded.  She'd  have known I had passed the "lady" stage, left it far =
behind with the chill of being proper, controlled, demure and correct.  =
I was walking like me!
=20
Barb Rager

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</HEAD>
<BODY bgColor=3D#ffffff>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2>Dear Friends:</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Another =
story.&nbsp; A little=20
lighter, I think, than those previously shared.&nbsp; A grand hug and =
thank you=20
to one of our number who kindly has taken the time to edit this piece =
and give=20
me the kind of support one writer gives another.&nbsp; (aside:&nbsp; I =
feel=20
abundantly fortunate in having found this group of people.&nbsp; The =
blessings=20
that come with this damn disease are few...but there are some, and you, =
my=20
friends, well somedays being with you just keeps me going, it really=20
does.)</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2></FONT>&nbsp;</DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2>TITLE:&nbsp;&nbsp; The Walk of =
Life</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2></FONT>&nbsp;</DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <FONT =
color=3D#000000>The last=20
image I have of my mother is the back of her small grey head in the =
large front=20
window of the house where I grew up.&nbsp; With a quick bat of her eyes =
she had=20
an uninterrupted view of both the TV and our street.&nbsp; Chewing on =
her nails,=20
with a cigarette in the ash tray, a crossword puzzle on her lap, her =
stockinged=20
legs wound around each other and the television blaring, she would spend =
much of=20
her idle time thinking of ways to make me into a lady.&nbsp; She =
believed=20
fiercely that the best way to look like one, was to walk right.&nbsp; =
Ladies=20
moved, glided, eased, with grace, charm and elegance.&nbsp; Posture =
straight,=20
head a balloon of air, never bouncing, floating rather, above extended=20
shoulders. Ladies must never thump, strut, stride or swagger. Running =
was out of=20
the question, unless absolutely necessary.&nbsp;&nbsp; A deft smile, not =
too=20
generous, a smirking, secretive thing, that danced mysteriously under =
the nose=20
was the key to success.&nbsp; These were the lessons for survival&nbsp; =
my=20
mother wanted me to learn.&nbsp; &quot;They'll do you all your =
life,&quot; she'd=20
say.&nbsp; And she might have been right, had I not, with many hopefull =
years of=20
moving and smiling still ahead,&nbsp; developed Parkinson's Disease.=20
</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000></FONT>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;=20
Reflecting on these early years, I have happily landed in a place in my=20
acceptance of this disease where I can laugh, with compassion, at the =
futility=20
of my mother's good intentions.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; At the=20
age of 4, I was packed off to ballet school once a week in order to =
learn how to=20
glide, float and quietly tiptoe. Gentle Miss Eleanor beamed love and =
warmth,=20
discipline and focus on our little uncoordinated bodies for years.&nbsp; =
We=20
worked hard on pirouettes, and plies. We jumped, kicked and danced and =
danced=20
and danced across the floor, in perfect synchronicity to the music and =
each=20
other.&nbsp; When I was twelve years old I was good enough to trade my =
slippers=20
for a pair of toe shoes.&nbsp; The transition was too much for me.&nbsp; =
The=20
wrapping of the toes in sheep's wool before practice, the unwrapping of =
the=20
bloody feet afterward was too grinding a procedure just to learn how to =
walk=20
right, and I begged to be let out.</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; My mother=20
agreed, but so as not to lose any ground (I was turning into an awful =
gangly=20
teenager with either a coarse mouth or a sullen pout depending on the =
day) I was=20
immediately enrolled in elocution classes.&nbsp; Here I learned more =
pointers=20
about being ladylike: how to sit perfectly still for endless time; how =
to walk=20
with a book on the head; how to speak softly but nonetheless to make a =
point=20
(any point); how not to attract attention.&nbsp; Those lessons have so =
far=20
touched almost every one of my shuffling, tremoring, rocking, nodding, =
and=20
jerking symptoms of this hideous fiend living in my body.&nbsp; (Some =
days I=20
would very much like to make a point, if I could remember what it was =
that I=20
started to say.)</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Our study=20
material also had poingent lessons for me then and in a converse way, =
for me=20
now.&nbsp; One book was entitled &quot;Charming You&quot;.&nbsp; It =
purported to=20
cover all the bases of possible intended movement.&nbsp; The underlying =
folly=20
was the author's assumption that there is only one way to to approach a =
chair,=20
exit a chair, enter a room, walk through and close a door, bend down =
(knees only=20
please) to pick up something, or turn.</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT color=3D#000000>There is only =
one way, of=20
course, if you want to be a lady.&nbsp; One of the more salient chapters =
is=20
entitled &quot;What to do with your feet while standing&quot;.&nbsp; =
Here's a=20
clip:</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &quot;The=20
hesitation stance: You have been walking and now have stopped, with one =
foot=20
ahead of the other. Putting your weight on the foot in front, slowly =
slide the=20
back foot (heel up, off floor) forward until its instep is at the heel =
of the=20
front foot.&nbsp; This is something no man would do. But it's so pretty =
on=20
you.&quot;</FONT></FONT><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT=20
color=3D#000000>:</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT color=3D#000000></FONT>And =
another shows=20
women how to check out their &quot;bobbing&quot; as they trickle along a =
city=20
street.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &quot;The=20
store front window check: Watch the top of your head.&nbsp; Is it =
shooting up=20
and down like an erratic stock market report or does it glide smoothly =
along,=20
parallel to the window frame, as if you were on a=20
skate-board?&quot;</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Before I=20
was diagnosed with Parkinson's, I found these instructions humorous in a =
sort of=20
appauling way;&nbsp; a great discredit to the upbringing of young women, =
a=20
negation of their character or mental development, and an intensity of =
focus on=20
the trivial, the flaky, the insignificant status in society young women =
were=20
being prepared for.&nbsp; I have trotted these volumes out from time to =
time and=20
shared them with my adolescent students, who are righteously angered by =
the=20
underlying assumptions these lessons represent.&nbsp; =
</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But=20
now&nbsp; I have Parkinson's Disease and the paradigm has shifted.&nbsp; =
I see=20
these illustrations differently.&nbsp; As contorted as it may seem, it =
would be=20
fun to just once more before I die, be able to&nbsp;</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT color=3D#000000>&quot;Walk =
directly to the=20
chair, neither rushing nor dawdling.&nbsp; Maintain your good posture =
every step=20
of the way.&nbsp; This is one of the most important times to remember to =
lead=20
with your thighs, because of a tendency to lean the body way forward and =
to bend=20
the knees as if sitting, thus giving a sitting walk demonstration all =
the way to=20
the chair.&nbsp; Your walk, except for the direction you are taking, =
should not=20
even indicate that you plan to sit.&quot;&nbsp; If only I could do=20
that......&nbsp; Now, that I've lost my chance I want it=20
back.</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; However I=20
do have hope.&nbsp;&nbsp; A&nbsp; few months ago I started on the drug=20
Requip.&nbsp; While doing nothing noticeable for my tremor, it has still =
had a=20
major effect.&nbsp; I feel a new control of my gross motor =
movement.&nbsp;&nbsp;=20
I noticed the other day while walking down the hallway of my school, =
that my=20
feet were planting themselves more firmly in front of me.&nbsp; I had a =
rhythm,=20
a beat.&nbsp; I started to go with it.&nbsp; Let the meter lead me. My =
strides=20
became longer.&nbsp; I was moving.&nbsp; I started to smile, a broad, =
generous,=20
toothy smile.&nbsp; </FONT></FONT><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT=20
color=3D#000000>And for the first time ever, I turned my feet out to the =
side and=20
swaggered! I swaggered, and bopped and bounced.&nbsp; I got my arms into =
it and=20
swung them with vigor.&nbsp; I was flying!&nbsp; </FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; If the=20
little grey head in the window were alive today, and could have seen me, =
she=20
would, I know, have forgiven me.&nbsp; She might even have =
applauded.&nbsp;=20
She'd&nbsp; have known I had passed the &quot;lady&quot; stage, left it =
far=20
behind with the chill of being proper, controlled, demure and =
correct.&nbsp; I=20
was walking like me!</FONT></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT =
color=3D#000000></FONT></FONT>&nbsp;</DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#000000 size=3D2><FONT color=3D#000000>Barb=20
Rager</FONT></FONT></DIV></FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>

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