I sat and watched as the mime, groping for an exit, ran his hands over the inner surface of the invisible cage that held him captive. I could identify with the fearful, yet inquisitive expression that was written across his face. He captured the emotion well. Then came the panic.

Having spent the better part of an hour searching for an exit and finding none, the mime's expression began to change. His movement became hurried at first but quickly evolved to frantic. His hands began to flail, whipping the air, as though they might be capable of creating a passage way in the swirling air. Exhausted from extreme movement, he finally collapsed in a corner of the unseen prison and wept until sleep interrupted his weeping.

Upon waking, his eyes slowly opened, as though to say, "Perhaps it was all a dream." Upon discovering that it was not, anger overtook him. He began to rail silently and beat the walls of his shell, as his eyes searched the audience for a champion to come and rescue him. None appeared, for none could see his prison from where they sat. In order to view what the mime viewed, one would have to enter and become captive. Then there would be 2 mimes.

michael

Michael,
That was so beautiful. How perfectly it describes my life. I'm so glad to see you're back. I have missed you so.

Mary

Michael,

It's about time you showed up.
Or is it something else?
The mime is running out of time
Will anyone see the whole picture

And rescue the mime?

Paula

Outside my window the world performed its daily chores. The sun rose gently, peering slowly over the eastern horizon, turning the night sky into an artist's canvas before revealing itself in full array. My neighbors were already out the door in an attempt to get a jump on the morning traffic. Interstate 10 began to grumble under the weight of the 18 wheelers as they vied for position in the fast lane. The occasional chirping bird and barking dog added background to the carpenters' nail guns, as they fastened wood to wood, still repairing damage from last years hurricanes.

6:45 a.m. tick 6:46 a.m. tick 6:47 a.m..... I counted the minutes as they crept by. Still 13 minutes before my first dose of medicine for the day, my statue sat in my chair by the window, glued and frozen in a state of motionless awareness. The 12 hour period since yesteday's last dose of meds had again taken its toll, but soon the rigor mortis would yield and release my statue for a season, allowing me to perform still one more day.

Today, when someone casually asks me the question, "How are you doing?" will I answer them tuthfully, or will I lie one more time? I will probably lie. Afterall, I am a walking statue, and that is a miracle. Isn't it?

michael

can you possibly be my old friend michael from la?? only he or someone with his gentle soul and tragic/slightly skewed sense of life could wriite something that touches the human condition and those liveing w/ pd in such a hauntingly poigent way. thanks for aharing your marvelous gifts with us.

Day after day, the same items, plus a few more, continued to appear on my honey-do list. At about the same time that the list was taunting me with 20 items, I read an article concerning a problem that many people with Parkinson's disease have with organizational skills. It suggested that the individual should concentrate on only one thing at a time, accomplish that task completely and then move on to another task. "Ah ha, that's it!" I thought. I proceeded to explain the situation to my wife, who seemed to understand my dilemma. We agreed that my honey-do list should contain only one item at a time.

The next morning I made my way to the kitchen counter to see which item I was to tackle that day. Astonished does not even begin to explain how I felt as my eyes fixed on the assigned spot for my honey-do list. What met my gaze was 20 honey-do lists, each containing one item. As goes the famous line from the movie Cool Hand Luke, "What we have here is a failure to communicate." I got a good laugh out of the situation, and that is about all I accomplished that day. Any suggestions?

michael

Thanks, Mary, Paula and Joan