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OK, guys, none of this "hero" stuff. I thank you for the praise, but let me tell you about the real heroes. Jim West's story in the Dallas paper and his affection to the little pony struck a strong chord in my memory. Like Jim, I've grown up and grown old but I still have a "I wanna' be a cowboy when I grow up" child in me. This little child loves horses, loves being with them, watching them, hugging them, loves them because they, to me, are the most awe inspiring of all animals. A couple of years ago I spent my time sitting in my living room, hunched over the computer, writing stories and cussing the PD that kept pulling me downhill. Walking bothered me, the keyboard was becoming impossible, my wife was talking about moving to a place where I didn't have to do anything, thinking that the day was fast approaching that I couldn't do anything. Margaret Tuchman called me one night, just to chat. Over the course of several months we developed a loving relationship over the phone, the discourse finally leading me to tell her about my love of horses and my hatred of those who abuse them. "There is no place for the abused, weak, homeless horses other than a final trip to the slaughterhouse," I would tell her. "Then make a place," she answered. "You're joking. I have PD. I stumble, I fall a lot, I shake. There's no way I can start a horse rescue." That continued for a few more weeks, me complaining about the injustice of it all, her telling me to get off my butt and do something. The woman has no pity. I started a nonprofit corporation, did the IRS paperwork and suddenly horses started showing up at my door. Someone donated 27 acres of undeveloped land, someone else donated enough money to buy a 100 acre sanctuary, volunteers started coming out, kids started hanging around the stalls instead of the streets.... Months later it suddenly dawned on me that my PD symptoms were almost gone. The guy who had a hard time walking across the living room was up at 3am, walking a sick horse around in the dark. The guy who once shook like a terrified rabbit was calming a shaking horse down with soft words and gentle touches. They weren't curing me of PD, but they had taking my PD away just the same. There's a magic pill in every horse hug, a calming in every neigh. And it isn't just me. I see the same result in others with neurological problems. If I could, I'd package up a horse and send one to each of you so you could see what I'm talking about. Margaret is the hero for these horses. The horses are my heroes. They not only have the will to live no matter what happens to them, they have given me the will to overcome PD and the opportunity to help others do the same. "Stop dreaming about it. Just do it," Margaret told me one night. Her words should be burned into stone for PDers. Her drive for the Parkinson Alliance and its efforts at funding a cure for PD, her push for the publication of "From the Parking Lot," and the hundreds of other things she has been involved in came from her desire to stop listening to the dreams of PDers and start pushing them to see their dreams become a reality. Habitat for Horses would not exist had it not been for her. Now I have the same attitude - there is a way for each of us to make our life better. Drawing the focus away from PD, being involved in something - anything - other than the daily on/off cycle of our pills. My cure is inside the eyes of a horse (and I firmly believe a lot of other PDers can find the cure there). For others it might be something totally different, but it still involves the power of our mind and our demanding control over our own future. Thanks, Murray, for the "hero" badge. Jim West's pony and my horses are our heroes, so I'm going to go out and give my badge to them. We all have a "pony" in our childhood and maybe, just maybe, that child is trying to tell us something. Stop dreaming about it, just do it. Jerry -- Help us save the horses! Habitat for Horses, Inc. A lifetime home for abused, endangered horses. http://www.habitatforhorses.org/