WE MOVE
204 West 84th Street
New York, NY 10024
E-mail: wemove@wemove.org
wemove.org • mdvu.org
I Wrote A Book Called Cellophane
God never gives you something you cannot handle.
– thomas mitchell
Soon after I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, I went down to the Riis Park, a beach in Queens NY, at around 1AM. I was pondering my recent diagnosis, and coming to terms with what I was going to face. Or, maybe what I WASN’T going to face. I seriously contemplated suicide. After all, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I don’t want Johanna (my then-wife) to visit me in the home every week. I just don’t want to be a pain in the ass to anyone. Hey, I had a pretty good. STOP IT. I had a beautiful daughter whose life would be less troublesome without me. STOP IT. STOP IT! I’ll have to quit work, quit life. So why bother? Just do it. STOP IT!! I thought how the shot would light up the black waves rolling onto shore, much like a flash from a camera, but of course with a loud blast shattering the serenity from the waves that I myself had treasured so many times. But who cares who’s serenity I’m shattering. I’m killing myself! DO IT! STOP IT!, FOR GOD’S SAKE PULL THE FRIGGIN’ TRIGGER!!!! STOP IT!!, Come on ya scardy cat, DO IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I smiled, as I took the water pistol from the side of my temple. I’m totally dry. That’s good. Letting out a sigh of relief, I thought of something. Then I really got scared. Part of my argument with myself to live was that I could always come back here, with a real water pistol, and end it anytime I wanted to. At least I could say, “Hey, Tom, you tried.” Then, the “Decisions Committee” in my head overruled me.
The Committee had passed down the following: “Mr. Mitchell, if you decide to take your life, obviously that is final. You can’t ever say you desire to change your mind. Taking that into consideration, it would only be fair that if you make final your decision to live, you also cannot change your mind. So, you must decide on your life or death NOW, with of course, no exception. Just as if you die, you shall be forever dead, if you shall live, you shall forever be alive.”
Ok, how am I going to act alive when I can hardly move from this stupid disease? Now I’m really scared. What do I do?
Oh here comes God on line two. Gee, thanks God. If you were any later, you would’ve been able to turn me away at the gate yourself. We talked. I never knew actually how smart He is. His schtick is faith, not logic. In fact, you can sell the religion thing without logic much easier. But He really made SENSE. And, yanno, with a loaded water gun in my hand, I’m not looking for a schmoozing double-talker.
“Do you believe in God?” He asked. “Yes I do”, I replied. “Why?” “Why? Well, because.” “That’s a cop-out” “No it isn’t.” (I’m talking to God mind you, It’s not like He can’t see right through me.) “How do you know that God exists?” “Well, by His creations”. “Like?” “Well, like the trees and the birds and stuff like that”. “Tom, when was the last time you appreciated anyone of My creations?” “APPRECIATED? Come on God, I’m sorta busy”. “Too busy for God? Oh, I see.” “Hey, I didn’t say that.” I could tell this wasn’t going well. “OK, I promise that I’ll start appreciating it more”, I said. “NOT IF YOU’RE DEAD FROM KILLING YOURSELF”. …OK, good point. “Besides, I have a job for you”, God said. “I want you to go back to coaching, and be my Prophet. I want you to show your athletes how you carry the Cross, like I did, and you can show how dedicated you are to these children athletes, although you have an extra burden. I want them to look at you and not feel sorrow, but rather greatness for your devotion to God.” He did make sense. How can I argue with God, especially when He’s right? “Ok, but what about me?” I asked. “That’s selfish.” God barked back. “Well, the quality of my life is going to diminish as time goes on”. There, I got Him. “Are you so occupied with how you look to other people, rather than how you look as you stand before me? You should concentrate on your spiritual appearance, and stop belly-aching about your physical appearance. Besides, what would your quality of life be if I didn’t stop you from killing yourself”?
Don’t you hate it when He’s right?
“Ok, God, I’ll live and show everyone how I carry your Cross. But, can you throw me a little bone?” He saw that I was down to a pathetic form of negotiation. “You’ll see”.
And He has, in so many ways. I’ve looked at God’s creations, and I’ve learned to appreciate them. I’ve taken up painting. I write books, I have even tried to play the banjo. I’M ALIVE!!!
What is even more important, I don’t have a disability. I really don’t. I walk slower, but I still walk forward. Today seems a bit longer, but I still dream for a tomorrow. And I dream for tomorrow because the gift of life I have today. I would never in a million years wish this on anyone. Yet, I am so thankful I have it. It seems that I’ve been shaken awake by God.
