I Have A Remarkably Normal Life.

I Don't Think [parkinson's] Is Gothic Nastiness. There's Nothing On The Surface That's Horrible About Someone With A Shaky Hand. There's Nothing Horrible About Someone In Their Life Saying, "god, I'm Really Tired Of This Shaky Hand Thing" And Me Saying, "me, Too." That's Our Reality. We Have No Control Over It.

When You're A Short Actor You Stand On Apple Boxes, You Walk On A Ramp. When You're A Short Star Everybody Else Walks In A Ditch.

There's A Connection That's Hard To Explain. It's The Feeling I Get When I See Someone Shuffle Up To Meet Me, Or Say Something, And I Can Instantly Tell By The Cant Of Their Head Or By The Movement Of Their Arms -- And These Are People Who Aren't Even Full-blown Symptomatic -- That They're One Of Us. And The Look They Give Me, It's Not Just Gratitude -- I Don't Care About The Gratitude -- But Solidarity. And Shared Optimism. And A Resiliency That Just Makes Me Think We're Doing The Right Thing, And That This Truly Is A Community.

Now I Feel And I Say All The Time That Vanity Is, Like, Long Gone. I'm Really Free Of Worrying About What I Look Like, Because It's Out Of My Shaky Hands. I Don't Control It. So Why Would I Waste One Second Of My Life Worrying About It?

My Age Makes Me Think How Valuable Life Is. How Bad Is Something Like Parkinson's In Relation To Not Having Life At All?