I don’t know how to say this gracefully, as a lady should. So here it goes, straight forward and up. My brother, who is an adult, with Parkinson’s and dementia, is sitting at the dinner table, eating his supper burping as loud as he can, then going to the opposite end, and letting outrageous blow out tire sounds! He is giggling over and over. When he is not doing this, he is mocking all of the newscasters, in a puppy dog voice. He then threw me off-balance by making a comment that dad always said, it’s a dog’s life? I immediately said to him, well I better put a cage around him, and put him inside of it tonight, as noisy as he is being. Oh my gosh, did that ever bring on the smiles and huge open laughter. Does this scare you? A middle age man acting like a child? Would you be afraid to be near him, when seeing such a display as he is presenting tonight? He is definitely not what people would classify as normal. I sit on this side of the fence, and look at him with love in my heart. I look at a man-child, who can giggle at things we have not giggled at for many years. He can be entertained tonight by an unknown name on the TV. He can sit here and carry on both sides of a conversation, entertaining himself. I can look at him with sadness and pity, when I see rude people stare at him or his cane. I just want to grab my hair sometimes and pull it while screaming, get the hell away from us you weirdos! He is not a freak, nor is he a leper. He has Parkinson’s, and dementia. He will not infect you, or cause you to be dirty if you touch him. This man used to love his job. If he had a tooth ache, he still went to work. He was lucky, no, I should say his place of employment was lucky. He never missed work unless mom forced him to stay home from being ill. Then I can remember he would stress all the day long on how they were doing without him. He has enjoyed holding a fishing pole in his hand, and with help has caught a fish. I have a picture on the wall of him holding his first fish, with a huge grin on his face. He has watched pigs have babies, and he has helped milk a cow. He has worked in a garden, and he knew how to pull weeds around the trees. I am sorry. I guess I am overly sensitive tonight. The ad for the paper was placed, and the phone did ring with interests. As soon as they found out he had Parkinson’s, dementia, heart problems, and is mentally challenged, I heard many excuses. I even heard one stranger say I could not offer enough money to pay her to sit with him. Tonight, the tables are turned. It is his giggles and big smiles, somewhere lost in his own time, and I am the one sitting here with huge tears running down my face. I have to get off of here. My brother is coming and I do not want him to see my sadness.