April 2024 was Parkinson's Awareness Month. I'm aware I have PD, as are many of you. We're in the know,…
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My Latest Frets
Teachable Radio
November 28, 2022
When my precise – he died eight months to the day after his cancer was diagnosed – and extraordinary father…
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PD Headlights
November 28, 2022
“We love our children the best we can.” I defend the parents who did and do love me with all…
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NYE Sailing
January 25, 2022
Take 10,000 steps. Daily. Lose 5, 10, 20 – a million pounds. The usual suspects line up like children waiting…
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Ask a Parkie: a PD Q&A
January 15, 2022
“Let’s play ‘Ask a Parkie,” I say, helping my mother to pull herself up to the room service breakfast table….
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My God Is….
December 22, 2021
God is the glue that connects us. She/He/It is the whisper in our heads imploring us to be better, to…
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The To Do List
November 12, 2021
The space in between inaction and action, the breaks between the actions once begun. I stare. The dreaded “To Do…
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The Language of Lemons
June 13, 2021
“I brought you some lemons,” she said, showing me a bowl brimming with sunny spheres. “Thank you,” I replied to…
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Familial Fantasies
June 3, 2021
I do not have the children I expected. They're like me in ways I wish they weren't. They express traits…
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Legacy Upended
May 11, 2021
“It’s been 30 years, “he said turning the page in his calendar. “30 years …” his voice trails off into the…
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Remembrance
March 24, 2021
How is a life remembered? Which stories seal our fate? I forget more stories than I care to admit. The…
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Sex In the Afternoon
January 26, 2021
My parents belonged to a generation that didn’t see the need to analyze and understand their union. They were a…
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COVID Tree: Part 2 The Tree
January 5, 2021
No one has talked tree since Turkey Day. But the calendar has turned to December so a tree we must…
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COVID Tree: Part 1 Thanksgiving
January 5, 2021
COVID coping mechanisms are copious chez moi. Compulsive cleaning is among the more productive of our pandemic proclivities – one…
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The Faraway Nearby
November 18, 2020
“Georgia O’Keeffe moved to rural New Mexico, from which she would sign her letters to the people she loved, “from…
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About Me
I worry that I sound so very neurotic that you are about to click far, far away from this site. And I think you worry too. Maybe not as much as I do – I realize that few do — but hopefully enough so that these words of worry sound like music to your fretful soul and thus you will read on, dear reader, read on.