Here I am standing on the stage in the breakfast room at Teachers College Columbia University. Professor Jo Anne Kleifgen, my doctoral dissertation adviser from the 1990s, is reading a citation before she presents me with the Distinguished Alumni Award. The citation is long, but here it is in full:
Bruce Ballard, in describing life with Parkinson’s disease, you have written on the freezing spells that afflict you and of “the halting stagger-stammer speech, stuck in mid-sentence, words now out of reach.”
Yet from your regimen of running, spinning, swimming and ping pong, to your global travels, to the breadth of your remarkable career as an educator, scholar and poet, your life has defied arrested motion. Indeed, there seem to be several Bruce Ballards, all deserving of awards for distinguished achievement.
There is the master literacy teacher and coach, whose passionate use of a pedagogy developed by the Egyptian mathematician Caleb Gattegno has enriched the lives of countless children and the practices of thousands of teachers.
There is the TESOL and second-language acquisition expert, whose publications range from “The Role of Sleep in Language Learning” to “Make the First Move: A Study of American Introductions,” and whose ambassadorship for Korean language and culture has been honored by the Daekyu Culture Foundation and the Korean Ministry of Education, Science and Technology.
There is the silver and bronze medalist swimmer at the International Gay Games in Paris and the coach of a Japanese triathlon team.
Yet these accomplishments seem a prelude to your life’s current chapter, in which you have modeled a mindful and courageous approach to living with Parkinson’s, provided education as an official blogger for the World Parkinson Congress, and shone a light for us all on the challenges posed by this debilitating condition. Your blog entry, “What’s It Like Having Parkinson’s,” attracted more than 6,000 visitors from 67 countries in a single five-day period. Another entry spotlighted the struggles of LGBTQ people with Parkinson’s who live alone; whose doctors often misunderstand their lifestyles and health challenges; and who may face ostracism and discrimination by colleagues, employers and insurers.
Bruce Ballard, in one of your poems, you hint that the name of your website, “Parking Suns,” honors the courage of Copernicus, Aristarchus, and others who first “parked the sun” at the center of the solar system. For a life devoted to improving the lives of others, for parking the sun of your own brave world for others to see, and for teaching us all about coping with one of the most challenging manifestations of the human condition, we are proud to present you with Teachers College’s Distinguished Alumni Award.
For my acceptance speech, I read the poem I wrote last year on my status at the six-year mark after diagnosis. Here’s a video of my speech. A Parkie who wasn’t at this event received a copy of the poem, and posted it on Facebook with his own comments. You’ll see it below.
And here’s how the poem appears on Facebook, after Gregg Büsch posted it:
My friend and mentor, Dr. Henry Fernandez, shared the following poem about PD written by his close friend and recently shared at the Alumni Awards at Columbia University. For those of us with PD, every word resonated.
Acceptance Speech – Bruce Ballard
I live north of New York City, but most of my doctors are in Manhattan. When riding the train to Manhattan, I stare out the window at the Hudson River, and use the time to write poetry. Here’s one of the poems I worked on.
Six Years with Parkinson’s Disease: Status Update
A brisk fall day. A wintry day. I ride
The train beside the river, look outside
And see the mist which hangs like gauze and blocks
The view of Jersey’s cliffs and trees and rocks.
I’m on my way to see some doctors. One
Will snip the stitches (six!) which she had sewn
Two weeks ago to close a cyst excision.
The cyst was big. How big? Well, just envision
Some great bloody human eyeball, and you’ll
Get the picture, if you picture pools
Of stinky slime the white orb sat upon.
I had that cyst for years and now it’s gone.
The other doc will check my hacking lungs.
I’m coughing almost nightly. I’m not young,
I’m over-worked and over-stressed. And yet,
I still try to get all I can get.
I don’t sleep enough, work out enough,
My diet could be better. But it’s tough
To lead a fast-paced life, do what you want,
Keep up on news, try all that’s au courant.
On top of that, my Parkinson’s disease
Just mucks my mind up, puts me ill at ease,
Puts me on this train so many times,
Pushes me to put down many rhymes,
Poetry that springs from inner doubt –
Doubt about how long I’ll walk about
Without support. How long I still can function,
Accept invites to some neighbor’s luncheon.
Climb the stairs at home while holding still
A brimming cup of coffee I don’t spill.
Dress myself while standing on both legs.
Express myself precisely, not sound vague,
Not talk with halting stagger-stammer speech,
Stuck mid-sentence, words now out of reach
Of my now frozen mind. And furthermore,
I’m scared of choking. Every time I pour
A tall, cool glass of water, I’m afraid
The water will explode like a grenade
Back in my throat, because my epiglottis
Fails to close the trachea. What? This
Process (swallowing), which used to flow
Like liquid silk, is now more like a death blow
As my eyes spurt tears and mouth expels
The fluid that I need to drink to dwell
On Earth like everybody else. It’s morbid:
Drinking now’s like being waterboarded.
When things are really bad, my mind gets worse.
Forget me putting down some rhyming verse –
Instead I ponder how I can go on:
Sleep fitfully, get up before the dawn,
Slog to work and put in many hours,
Get anxious due to my declining powers –
Oh, yes, I wonder: How can I go on?
The answer is I’m driven by the urge
To do things that forestall the creeping scourge
Of Parkinson’s. Like writing this long poem,
Which I composed while traveling from home
On a train en route to see some doc.
(My current calendar is chockablock
With medical appointments.) I’m delighted
When I ride the train, ideas ignited
In my brain. What joy! And then there’s this:
I work out at the gym and feel bliss.
My weekly ping-pong lesson forces all
Of my attention on a spinning ball
That I hit with slanted pock! And pock!
It spins back. Pock! My mind’s thus not gridlocked.
And open-water distance swims have banished
Depressing thoughts. Anxieties, too, vanish
When I push myself at something that
I revel in. Living tit-for-tat
With this incurable disease, I find
I have the upper hand, and that my mind,
While losing dopamine, still works fine
At cooking tasty meals when I dine.
Still works fine when reading books at night
Before I go to sleep. And when I write
A blog post, story, poem or email,
I’m often pleased as punch because I nail
Exactly what I wanted to inscribe –
A sonnet, say; a blog post diatribe.
This urge to do things that I revel in
Was always there, before my Parkinson’s
Wreaked havoc on my brain, my leg, my arm.
Its source: a cosmic force which, like a charm,
Spurs all humanity to forge ahead.
Climb a mountain? Maybe bake some bread?
Paint a picture? Join a local band?
Volunteer to lend a helping hand
When hurricanes or earthquakes devastate
Some portion of the Earth? Or just create
A quiet space where people much like you
Can gather in companionship, in lieu
Of fuming solo at the constant friction
Of politicians claiming facts are fiction?
The urge to do things helps me counteract
The ravage of PD. Now that’s a fact.
(But don’t forget that bladder urgency
Can be a five-alarm emergency!)
Pock!
– Bruce Ballard, April 11, 2018
It was a very full day after the morning awards ceremony (six other Teachers College graduates also won awards) – there was a plenary presentation and smaller academic break-out sessions.
Here’s a photo of my family and friends who were at the awards breakfast:
And here’s a photo of the dinner party I hosted at a wine bar in midtown; the guests were all people I knew from grad school or from high school in Mexico City, plus immediate family members.
Celebrating with family and friends was the best part of the day!
Bruce, you are so amazing, and so deserving of this award. What a treat that you made time in your busy schedule to have breakfast with me on my recent trip to NYC.
Bruce – Congratulations on receiving this award!! You have accomplished SO much!
Well deserved! Congratulations!