Therapy for the "Parkinson's Mask"

People diagnosed with Parkinson's can be blank and expressionless, and are often more so as time goes on. How to combat this? It's actually imbedded in me from way back - part of the armoring I acquired from years of ridicule followed by years of fear of ridicule. Just keep your face blank and no one will bother you was the reasoning behind this, although it was largely unconscious.

But there were times in my life something else emerged. The toddler visiting at all the tables in the restaurant my parents were dining in, the Thanksgiving and Christmas plays my neighbor and I would create to entertain my relatives, the dance my high school friends and I performed at the variety show; these are all examples of times when I was outgoing and showed an eagerness for attention and admiration. 

I always liked to sing, and I readily joined in at sing-a-longs. I remembered fondly the days of high school chorus practices and performances, so when I saw an ad for  new members needed with the Jersey Harmony Chorus I joined up. I had not the dimmest awareness of what I was in for.

Now I am being asked to perform full throttle, meaningful, expressive delivery of a song in company with my equally effusive female chorus members.  It is the world of the Sweet Adelines. Sweet Adelines come from the men's Barbershop tradition of four-part harmonies. I sing lead, which means I sing the melody and therefore am even more duty bound to be expressive and tell a story with a song, not just by words or melody, but with my face and body. My chorus is a performing chorus.

Jeannie, the vocal coach at last weekend's chorus retreat asked us to go "over the edge," and move and show expression in our faces until we thought we must look crazy. After we were done she asked us, "How was it?"

"It actually felt good," I said.

"You've had an epiphany." Jeannie said. She told me that what I did was not over the edge, but was actually "just right."

The chorus is an opportunity to work on the "mask" that wants to settle on my face and never be removed. It only now occurs to me that by serendipity I have actually stumbled on another therapy for Parkinson's: performing with the Jersey Harmony Chorus.

Singing with the a few chorus members at Palmer Square at Christmas time
(that's me in the long red scarf)