At Costa Mesa High School from 1958-62, I regularly attended the school's sock hops in the gym and its proms.
As a high school senior, I had a lead role in our spring musical, an original production about life on a 1960s high school campus. The show included a gymnasium dance scene.
I portrayed a somewhat flamboyant character and, during the dance scene, presented an outrageous (for the time) rendition of the Surfer Stomp. My antics elicited laughter and applause.
In the Army, I occasionally spent evenings at the post's nightclub. My buddies laughed at my limber, unorthodox dance moves.
Later, following my military service, I danced at galas and banquets associated with my profession. A longtime colleague referred to me, with no small measure of envy, as "The Poor Man's Michael Jackson."
I danced at the weddings of each of my three daughters. I was never shy about hoofing it in public.
Recently, my wife, Hedy, and I attended the wedding of our niece. I didn't dance. It wasn't that I didn't want to. Put simply, it's because I'm no longer able to.
I'm completely devoid of rhythm.
How, you ask, does one lose his rhythm?
More than five years ago I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. Parkinson's is a degenerative brain disorder that occurs when certain nerve cells die or become impaired. The cells produce a chemical — dopamine — that facilitates smooth, coordinated body movement.
Daily, my body subtly sheds dexterity.
The disease is progressive and has no cure. Patients exhibit such symptoms as tremors or shaking, slowness of movement, rigidity or stiffness, and balance difficulties. Other signs include a shuffling gate, cognitive problems or muffled speech.
My Parkinson's symptoms have conspired to rob me of my dancing ability. Oh, I can get out on the floor and perambulate a little, but I can't make a statement. Not like I used to!