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Dunking quest pushes the limits of 59-year-old’s body and soul (blog version)

When I was about 9 living in the Athens, Ga., I begged my mother to let me mow the lawn. Previous requests had been denied on account of “you’ll cut your leg off.”

That was the standard Mom line, kind of the go-to parallel of “You’ll put your eye out,” as immortalized in the boy’s pursuit of a BB-gun in the movie :A Christmas Story.”

Besides mowing, I also had been pushing for a BB gun.

I didn’t get one of those until about age 12. (A Daisy single pump).

But on the lawn mowing thing, she caved in earlier. Looking back, I’m sure Dad, who had some skin in the game, as the primary lawn mower helped come up with the idea to get the aptly named ‘push mower.’ That is a lawnmower with no gasoline, no engine and no motor-driven whirling blades to cut my leg off.

I didn’t know the nuances of lawnmowers; I was just happy to finally get to mow the lawn. So, I started one bright, hot and humid Saturday and golly it sure was hard to push. But I kept pushing, learning from some instruction to go up and down the lawn in rows leaving no grass in between. I hadn’t figured out the square spiral method of mowing yet where you made a big square of cut grass all around the edge of the lawn and descended with a spiral square until you had a satisfying tiny block of grass left.

No, on my first day, I realized this was no easy job. After about 20 or 30 minutes I had mowed two rows, came inside and declared I would finish later. Sunday came and I went at it, maybe knocking out three rows before quitting. I was hitting a rhythm. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, knocking off a couple or three rows each day in about 30 minutes of sweltering work. I remember skipping my mowing workout on Friday to play street ball with friends.

But on Saturday I finally finished. I had pushed that powerless grass cutter over every inch of the lawn in one week’s time.

Now for my big life lesson.

I invited my Mom out to see my handiwork. She said she was proud of me. And she said: “It’s time to start mowing again.”

“When?” I asked, fighting tears.

“Now,’ said Mom. “See how it has grown back on this side of the lawn?”

That is when I learned that life is dukkha __ one of the four Noble Truths in Buddhism is that much of life is suffering. My wife, Catherine, taught me the word decades later, learning it from her theological studies. But I learned the concept that hot day, leaning up against a silent, immobile push mower.

I’d like to say I kicked that mower and began stomping it to pieces. That’s what I was thinking anywa­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­y. But then I know if I did that my Mom would say something.

“Careful, you’ll cut your leg off.”

So, here I am 50 years later. I have a degenerative brain disease and I’ve made a vow to fulfill a bucket list item of dunking a basketball on a regulation 10-foot goal. I’ve never dunked in my life.

I started in October and I’ve promised updates on my quest to dunk by mid-July.

But like mowing the lawn with that push mower, training can be exhausting, hot, and discouraging when you see no end in sight. It can be body breaking and soul shaking.

As Little Feat sang: “It’s easy to slip.:

And I did.

But don’t bet against me just yet. After a multi-week layoff, I was back on the basketball court Wednesday night. The game was brutal on me. I won’t be dunking anytime soon.

In the meantime, on Nov. 9, I turned 59. Some days I feel every bit of my age and more.

Those who have been following my story know that I have Lewy body dementia, a form of dementia that is the second leading cause after Alzheimer’s.

To those following along – and bless you by the way – I have a blog where I am counting down my vinyl record collection numbering 678. It can be found at www.myvinylcountdown.com. I’m also an AL.com columnist and post a column using pieces of MVC (My Vinyl Countdown). My challenge, I see now, goes beyond exercising my body.

I’m operating under the notion that my life will be shortened. The average lifespan after diagnosis is 5-8 years or 4-7 years, depending on the source. I was diagnosed at age 56; I am now 59. But averages are averages and I hope to be a long living outlier – as long as my quality of life remains reasonably bearable.

I will tell you this: I feel way better than I feel two years ago. I attribute that to medications, early diagnosis, exercise, and music.

Stay with me, as Rod Stewart used to sing. Maybe just maybe you’ll see me defy not just gravity but health age and common sense.

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Robyn Hitchcock, The Hi-Lo’s — 416, 415,

ALBUMS: Suddenly it’s The Hi-Lo’s (1957, Reissue 1981); Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians, Globe of Frogs (1988).

MVC Rating: Hi-Lo’s 3.0/$$: Hitchcock 3.5/$$

Robin Hitchcok’s Globe of Frogs

OK I am doubling up as I am wont to do every now and then. I’m finishing up the H’s in the next few posts. Continuing on my way to review and reminisce about my 678-record collection. I’m doing this alphabetically (more o r less) and I still have more than 400 to go.

I chose to review these together mainly because they were the next two alphabetically speaking. But it’s an interesting contrasting combination.

This is a review of a 1950’s vocal jazz group and an alternative psychedelic folk rock artist . What can you say about Hitchcock, an artist who opens his liner notes with words like: “All of us exist in a swarming pulsating world, driven mostly by an unconscious that we ignore or misunderstand.”

The Hi-Lo’s meanwhile in this 1981 reissue of a 1957 album are all about fresh faced optimism, suits and un-ironic bow ties. The four men sing in harmonies and seem happy warbling away at songs like ‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’ and ‘Stormy Weather. I listen to it when I want to go to something completely different in my collection. It’s surprisingly uplifting music.

Meanwhile Hitchcock sings songs entitled ‘Tropical Flesh Mandala’ and ‘Luminous Rose.’

If I were writing a traditional consumer guide I’d probably say ‘hey old folks check out the Hi-Lo’s they are like your old music. And say to the younger folks, dig the new Robyn HItchock album, it’s out of this world.

But I recommend the vice versa position. Kids meet the Hi-Los. Grown-ups see what psychedlic folk hipsterism is all about.  (It’s not too bad, I promise — except ‘Devil’s Mask‘  — live from Athens, Ga., — might blow some minds.)

So with both albums from divergent styles you can still say about both of them: And now for something completely different.

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Little things lead to something bigger (blog version)

Mike Oliver writes frequently about life and health issues and his diagnosis of a fatal brain disease, Lewy body dementia, on AL.com and his blog, www.myvinylcountdown.com
It’s the little things for which I’m thankful.
It’s the little things that bring joy to life on this spinning sphere of mud, rock, and water.
I’m thankful for the red Maple leaf that spins to the ground like a ballerina.
A quiet lake with the sun powering through the clouds. I am thankful.
I am thankful for small observations that invite a deeper reality. Living in the world is both illusory and concrete, full of heartache and pain. From the head, the heart and the soul.
A roaring ocean with storm clouds gathering at dawn like hungry white wolves.
I’m thankful for the moments that defy life’s suffering. Roller coasters, trampolines and front porch swings.
Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams and fairy tales.
Handpicked blackberries in a cobbler, hot with a scoop of fast melting vanilla ice cream.
An after dinner Thanksgiving walk. Holding hands.
The rust-colored poodle who thinks he’s golden, running the house like a greyhound after being let in from the cold.
Lightning and thunder and the inherited primal fear of it, a tiny injection of prehistoric adrenaline.
Understanding that disappointment is a manipulative device with a pinch of well meaning, but misplaced, love.
Yellow and red leaves of autumn like stained glass in November’s leaning light.
Pancakes and maple syrup, carb loading on a cold day.
A sincere compliment that makes you smile and stumble.
Hot yoga, frozen yogurt and boiled peanuts.
Sonny and Cher singing I got you, babe.
My 20-something daughter saying ‘I know this song.’
I am thankful for the little things.
They add up.
To a bigger thing.
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How can I hang on to a memory?

This is an opinion column by Mike Oliver who writes about his diagnosis of Lewy body dementia and other health and life issues, here on AL.com and his blog.
This morning I had a memory from my childhood.
That, in and of itself, is not particularly newsworthy. But it did make me think how my brain is working.
I have a degenerative brain disease called Lewy body dementia, and I think my experiences can be useful to the medical community and the care-giving community – or anyone interested in what it feels like inside the head of a dementia patient.
Mike and Catherine Oliver help each other remember.
My memory this morning was this:
I was looking at some pants getting for work, realized the pants were — unlike most of my pants – too loose in the waist. The pants would be literally pants on the ground after about five or six steps.
This triggered a memory: it was a sunny day in Auburn, AL,. I was a 5 or 6-year-old kid going out to play on Rudd Avenue (which I don’t think exists anymore. The road’s there, but the name changed for some reason.)
In my memory I am running to get to the creek we used to play in and then we’d likely walk in the creek to Prather’s Lake.
As I run, I realize I‘m having to hold my pants up. With both hands.
I only had two things on like every Auburn boy on my street in the 1960s: Underwear and short pants. And my short pants kept sliding down. Not cool.
Luckily. I had belt loops on my shorts.
My memory only lasted a split second, but it was very visual. I remembered I found a piece of skinny rope. It was only about 5 or 6 inches long. Not enough to go all the way around my waist. So. I couldn’t use it like a regular belt because it was too short.
I guess the idea just spontaneously erupted in my 5 or 6-year-old brain. I tied two front belt loops together with that little rope. Tailor made! The britches held up nice and tight now.
I don’t remember anybody ever teaching me that trick or ‘hack’ as it would be called using current nomenclature. But, indeed, it was a real ‘necessity-is-the-mother-of-invention’ moment.
I think of this, not because there is anything unusual or profound about it.
But it made me stop and wonder why my brain chose to furnish me this quite vivid memory of a past event with no relevance to anything, other than it was triggered by me looking at some pants.
Is it my brain saying: ‘Hey, here’s some info you used before in a separate waist-fitting pants escapade. Here, see if this will help you,’ my brain seems to be saying. Pretty dang complicated for a brain awash in clumps of protein named after Dr.Lewy, who discovered them.
Or maybe it’s a symbolic lesson about how the answer, the cure, is right in front of you, like the piece of twine.
I’ve got my brain sitting here right now — and at all times — inside my head.
What if thinking alone can literally change the brain?
Wonder where that thought came from?
I’ll try it.
-=-=-=-=–=-=-=-=-=-=
Here are five essential facts about Lewy body dementia from the Lewy Body Dementia Association.
  • LBD is a relentlessly progressive disorder affecting thinking, movement, behavior and sleep. On average people with LBD live 5-7 years after diagnosis, though it can progress as quickly as 2 years or as slowly as 20 years.
  • Despite its low public awareness, LBD is not a rare disorder and affects an estimated 1.4 million Americans along with their families and caregivers.
  • People living with LBD and their family caregivers need a high level of support from family members and healthcare professionals from the early stage of the disorder, due to early and unpredictable frequent changes in thinking, attention and alertness, as well as psychiatric symptoms like hallucinations and delusions.
  • LBD is the most misdiagnosed form of dementia. Getting a diagnosis of LBD typically takes 3 or more doctors over 12 to 18 months. The LBDA Research Centers of Excellence network includes 25 preeminent academic centers with expertise in LBD diagnosis and management.
  • Early diagnosis of LBD is extremely important, due to severe sensitivities to certain medications sometimes used in disorders that mimic LBD, such as Alzheimer’s disease and other medical and psychiatric illnesses. An early diagnosis also empowers the person with LBD to review, pursue and fulfill their personal life priorities before the illness progresses too far, review their legal and financial plans, and discuss their care preferences with their physician and family.
  • Contact Mike Oliver at moliver@al.com Also follow his stories, including his quest to dunk at 58 years old on AL.com or myvinylcountdown.com
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This is My Brain on Random Play (blog version)

This is an opinion column by Mike Oliver who writes about his diagnosis of Lewy body dementia and other health and life issues, here on AL.com and his blog.

Since being diagnosed with a brain disease I think a lot about my brain, with my brain.

Isn’t that a conflict of interest?

My brain could be withholding important information.

Went fishing recently for the  first time in years. I learned: Fishing is meditation.

Getting ‘bobber focused,’ I call it.

I caught this fish at Lake Weiss with a rubber worm. It is either a Crappie or bass, I think. I threw it back. I also caught a couple of catfish with bread. Threw them back as well. It was therapeutic meditation.

People who retire and say they are going fishing mean they are going to do nothing.

Fishing is a lot of nothing. But I believe nothing is something.

In fact nothing is better than some things.

As much as I worship my dog, I sure take his name in vain a lot

So, I see that a 12-pound chunk of moon rock sold at auction for $612,500 or about $51,000 per pound.

Outrage!. That’s earth pounds! Personally, I think it’s only worth its moon weight – which is about 2 pounds — for a total of $102,000.

$612,000? What a rip-off!

I’m careful with my money I tell you. I’m interested now that the Mega Millions jackpot is $1 billion.

I wasn’t interested in going to all the trouble for $900,000,000.

For more go to AL.com: 

 

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Halloween songs

I’m looking for suggestions as we enter the Halloween season.

I’m just going to start with one song that is big time on my playlist right now. My NP is a Brummies song, and it really has  nothing much  to do with Halloween other than it’s “Haunted.”

I’m counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.

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Saddest songs involving death (Blog version)

Death is sad.
When it is a topic in a song you often have the ingredients for a tearjerker. 
I have a list compiled from readers and a separate list called Editor’s Choice, which follows the first list.
This idea originated from a review I did recently for My Vinyl Countdown of the song ‘Honey’ by Bobby Goldsboro.  I called it sappy but effective and manipulative. My mother loves it. I don’t so much. One of my grown daughters, Claire, called and said the saddest song in the world that I didn’t include was ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ by Peter Paul and Mary.
My wife Catherine was disappointed I didn’t mention Tonio K’s “You are there’  a song that both comforted her and made her cry after her mother’s death so many years ago. Still does. Me too.
Well it might have been a vision
or it might have been a dream
like a photograph of eden
it was like no place I’d ever seen

And you were there waiting for me
you shined the light when I couldn’t see
I stood at the gate like a stranger
and you were there waiting for me

That’s how these lists are though — debatable and up for challenges. But I will guarantee that if you stay long enough and listen to enough, you will need some tissue.
While I took readers suggestions, I am the final judge. My qualifications? I cry looking at my  dog, and I have a  disease, Lewy body dementia, which  will likely cut my life short. 
For the full story and the Top 10 Tearjerkers list  go here.
I can’t write about this without mentioning that a friend and colleague of mine lost a son this week and although I had not met the son, my heart and many hearts are broken.  We can and we can’t begin to understand the depth  of grief of losing someone you loved and cared for. I say can and can’t because many  have been touched by tragic deaths and everybody deals with it in their own way. As human beings we know so little about life and death. Except that it hurts. And it’s a pain that lives inside. And it’s a pain that makes one look hard for joy, something for balance.
It’s a pain that makes us ask “Why.”
Van Morrison, one of my favorite artists and spiritual advisers, sang: ‘It ain’t why why why. It just is.’
Sometimes I think of that and it makes me want to smack Van Morrison right in the nose.
Meanwhile for my daughters and wife:
https://youtu.be/z15pxWUXvLY
https://youtu.be/JI3tVMKmMM8
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MVC column in AL.com today: Vote for saddest song

Here’s the top of my column published in AL.com today. Hit this link to read whole column.

Let’s stroll down memory lane — even though my memory lane needs some pot holes fixed.

It’s time for another My Vinyl Countdown column where we say, ‘wow, I remember that song, what’s it called again?’

This is a countdown of the 678 vinyl records I collected in the 1970s and 1980s (for the most part). I also have albums from nearby decades like the 60s and 90s. Every week I give you five more from my blog www.myvinylcountdown.com where I am keeping a running tally. As you will see in my bio this is all about raising awareness of Lewy body disease, which I have.

I also give you each week a NP (Now Playing) which this week is Bobby Goldsboro, known for his tear-jerking song ‘Honey.’ Now the song Honey is sappy and the rest of his album is worse but he did sell millions and was a big star with a prime time TV show.

So in the spirit of fun and Honey dying, I propose a list of the top tear-jerkers of all time. Now not so fast sad sacks,  the song must have a death in it — like Honey.

While it never explicitly says Honey dies or by what method it is a sure thing the writer was saying she died. I have read some theories that the fragile spirited Honey kills herself?! (My guess is terminal disease, like cancer.

So songs about break-ups, divorces, wasted time, sad as they may be, do not qualify. Leave your suggestions in comments or email at moliver@al.com

 

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Tear-jerkers and Lewy

Quick catch-up here on some of the things happening in MyVinylCountdown – land.

I’m firing blogs off left and right lately so keep checking this site for updates.

You can get new post alerts via email by going to the comment section. Here’s how to do that: ‘click on the title of the post, for example, Bobby Goldsboro’. 

Then scroll down to bottom of post and you’ll see an email box. Click inside the box and a check-box asking if you want notifications.

The Bobby Goldsboro post, where ‘Honey the’ song is deconstructed by me makes me think of putting together a  Top 10 list of tear-jerking songs.

  1. Honey by ‘Bobby Goldsboro’

There I started. Now go. to the comments and add your challenger song or songs to ‘Honey.’ Or, you can email me your selection at moliver@al.com

(Maybe we’ll actually do it like we did on Top Train Songs.

In recent weeks my most popular posts have been:

Rub your dog behind the ears while you still can 

Robin Williams was killed by Lewy, the brain disease that won’t be named 

New song about Alabama could be next great state song 

 

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John McCain’s last words are right on (blog version)

 

So what’s the last word?

McCain

 

John McCain said before he died, “I love you, I have not been cheated.”

Wow. I love those last words as relayed by McCain’s good friend Sen. Lindsey Graham.

McCain had left a written statement but these words spoken to Graham were the actual last words.

My praise of McCain’s utterances  comes from a guy (me) who has been thinking about last words. I’ve also been looking at epitaphs (no brother, not epithets.)

But before I get into some of the best last words of all time, let’s breakdown the last words of John ‘The Maverick’ McCain.

I’m not going to make this at all a political column but I will say I admire Sen. McCain. Anybody who can survive the harsh conditions of a Vietnamese prisoner camp for more than five years, is one tough dude and deserves my respect and my thanks for his service.

Graham, a long-time friend, was reportedly at bedside when McCain made comments before dying.

“I love you,” he told Lindsay.

Those three words.

A connection to humanity. The word love is the most defined, undefined word in the lexicon.

It’s the best thing you can say to somebody — if you mean it.

Forget the fact that we don’t know what it means, love that is. OK, we know what it means, I believe, we just can’t articulate it.

Second part of McCain’s last words: I have not been cheated.

I think he’s saying he lived a full life. And what an interesting way to say it. I haven’t been cheated.

Is that humble downplay or is it a slightly negative way of assessing the state of his life? Instead of ‘I have been blessed …” or “I have been rewarded with a good life” on his deathbed, he was saying  “I haven’t been cheated.” Some might interpret that negatively, like ‘not getting cheated’ is the most important point he can break out about his life?

But I think it is simply McCain saying, ‘I had a good one. No worries.”

Mental Floss, the excellent online compendium of great lists and stories, has assembled the dying words of 64 people in history ith the help of Words of Notable People. I’ll cull it to a Top 10.

Here’s the list, my comments in italics.

Elvis Presely: “I’m going to the bathroom to read.” No no no.

Frank Sinatra died after saying, “I’m losing it.” That’s what I call concise and on point.

Marie Antoinette stepped on her executioner’s foot on her way to the guillotine. Last words: “Pardonnez-moi, monsieur.” Showing the strength of a human being is saying “Excuse me’ to your executioner.

Richard B. Mellon: “Last tag.’

The wealthy man was the President of Alcoa, and he and his brother Andrew had a little game of Tag going. According to Mental Floss, the weird thing was, this game of Tag lasted for like seven decades. When Richard was on his deathbed, he called his brother over and whispered, “Last tag.” Poor Andrew remained “It” for four years, until he died. Life is about having fun and competing. Mellon and brother kept it going to the end. I salute you.

Leonardo da Vinci: “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.” Leo, don’t beat yourself up, but you are right, the Mona Lisa’s smile should have been wider.

Murderer James W. Rodgers was put in front of a firing squad in Utah and asked if he had a last request. He replied, “Bring me a bullet-proof vest.” When you got nothing, be a wise guy.

John Arthur Spenkelink was executed in Florida in 1979. He spent his final days writing these last words on various pieces of mail: “Capital punishment means those without the capital get the punishment.” Ah, this guy addresses a sweeping and problematic social issue as he walks to his death penalty.

Groucho Marx: “This is no way to live!” He got that right and died.

Blues guitarist Leadbelly said, “Doctor, if I put this here guitar down now, I ain’t never gonna wake up.” And he was right. Hope he got buried with it.

Bo Diddley died listened to the song “Walk Around Heaven.” His last word was “Wow.”

And my wife’s grandmother Inez Burns lived to be 100. At her bedside she told Catherine her granddaughter who was telling her she was leaving for home in Florida. Inez said: “I’m going to have to go now too. Goodbye. I love you.” And she died.

My last word, for now, is “Wow.‘

NOTE: Mental Floss cites Last Words of Notable People as a major source in their list. Another version of this appears here.