My first paid gig was playing at a high school dance in Wheaton, MO, in 1982. The 4th of July, 2023, downtown Tulsa, Fields of Honor show with the Hifi Hillbillies was my final, professional, live performance. 41 years of playing live shows, as my daughter commented, "Not a bad run." The tremors that have infiltrated my left, fretting hand in the last couple of years have recently done the same with my picking hand and with two nervous, wobbly hands, the consistency is just not there with my playing and/or singing ability to be dependable to a band. You're probably imagining Parkinson's as what you may have seen with Michael J. Fox or Muhammad Ali, but for a ton of us, it's a hell of a lot more subtle. It doesn't take much unwanted movement of a hand to make that back and forth strumming action that is needed for anything from a country shuffle to a funk riff to be a thing of the past. I can still type about the same rate as I always did (thanks to Mrs. McFadden from Parkwood High in Joplin, MO) and I was recently a chainsaw-wielding backyardigan, thanks to the June 18th Tulsa Windstorm (Thanks, Ed Rossman, for the chainsaw loan!). But, playing guitar on a level that I want to be playing at is not really possible. Sure, there are medications that can boost the effects of my carba leva dopa medication that might have me doing a little better in the motor area of my hands, but having been through a few, I'm here to tell you that they sometimes wear off, or have an on/again off/again success rate. There are days when I have to force myself to practice, because although music is 'good therapy,' physically, it's not always great on an emotional level, as you become the star of your very own "Flowers for Algernon." All of that being said, I know I will always be grabbing a guitar or bass, recording at home, slapping on vocals when and if I have a vocal 'on' day, and trying to write that one damn song that connects with the masses. 41 years is a good run; I'm very lucky for each and every one.
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