Book # 38

Always Looking Up

The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist

By Michael J. Fox

I liked this book. When I checked it out from the library, I was mostly curious how someone with an incurable disease such as Parkinson's, can remain optimistic. But I found myself liking it so much I didn't want to put it down, even through the semi-boring political parts.

I was impressed by several things.

One, I would attribute his success to 3 things. 

His very supportive wife, Tracy.

His ambitious nature and having a goal to work towards, especially after his acting career was mostly over.

His personality, which is that he wants to be, and works toward being liked.

Second, he and his wife have been married for 20+ years. In the Hollywood world, that doesn't happen a lot. Although, he hasn't really stayed a part of Hollywood. He lives in New York.

 

Third, he is actually a pretty great writer. I didn't read his first book, "Lucky Man" but I am tempted to read that one too.

Fourth, he seems to be a loving, family man. He was in LA on 9/11 and although he was supposed to be filming the next day in a minor TV part, he rented a car and some drivers and made it back to New York in 2 days. I remember 9/11 and how my husband and I had plans to be away from our home and children that day. I couldn't go. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to be across the continent from your family, when they were in NYC and the news  was talking about how there might be more attacks. He must have been frantic.

A few of my favorite parts...

"I don't give much thought to how others perceive symptoms; I have enough on my plate. I will take time, however, to explain myself to kids, who are often curious and wonderfully straightforward. I was once talking with a little girl at Esme's preschool, who broke off our conversation mid-sentence and exclaimed in honest exasperation, 'Will you quit moving around!' I eventually managed to stop laughing long enough to promise her I'd give it a shot."

"Parkinson's and alcohol took a sledgehammer to any illusions I may have had that I was in control. I came to accept that any disease or condition beyond my control is, in effect, a power greater than myself. To survive this destructive energy, I must look to an even higher power. For my purposes, I need neither define it nor have others define it for me, only accept its existence.....And since I'm not sure of the address to which to send my gratitude, I put it out there in everything I do."

"Sam (their son) always struggled with basic arithmetic, but as his education progressed, he inexplicably proved to be excellent at math---sounds like a contradiction, but its not. While the basic stuff --- quick addition, multiplication tables, long division --- seemed to baffle him, when he had more complex processes to master --- algebra, trig, calculus --- he thrived. I think Tracy and I feel the same way about marriage. The more complicated it gets, the more it seems to bring out the best in us. Confronted with a complication as seemingly dire as my PD diagnoses, so early in our marriage, could have left us undone.....The change that Parkinson's itself has forced upon me and, by extension, Tracy and the family, pales in comparison to the changes we have brought upon ourselves. We give more to each other than Parkinson's could ever take away."

MJF took a road trip across the USA in 1997 with his son Sam and a neighbor and his 2 kids. The question---"Are we there yet?" posed too frequently on the trip, caused him to ponder.  He wrote, "Am I there yet? was really the question that launched our suburban across the continent ---"there" being the point of no return beyond which Parkinson's dictated the terms of my life. Had the sweeping changes I had instituted---sobriety, a reordering of priorities---come too late? Was there enough of me left to be the man I had never, until now, known that I wanted to be? To say that my attitude toward the disease itself was far less involved than it is today would be a gross understatement. I still didn't fully own it and was still wrestling with how wholly it owned me. So this journey was, in large part, a rebellion. My maps and lists and contact sheets were preparation, if not for battle, then for some heavy-duty reconnaissance. I discovered on this trip that maps and borders are arbitrary and often invisible. Without man-made signs, nothing would inform you that you'd transitioned from one place to another. It's all personal perception. Traveling the country coast to coast, I gained an understanding that the ancient, primal boundaries---the Mississippi River, the Continental Divide, the Rocky Mountains, and the Grand Canyon---mark true change. The risk of crossing is rewarded with the discovery of something entirely new and powerful on the other side. Gradually, I relaxed into the idea that what was happening inside of me was only part of my world. The ticking clock that was beginning to create an unhealthy sense of urgency was in fact a metronome that I could dial down to an appropriate  tempo....

Until Next Time  :o)