Looking back, moving forward

One of the criticisms the original “Boys of Summer” received was that my father and I got along too well. Yes, I’m being serious. From the standpoint of purely selling tickets and DVD’s, I get it; general audiences find more immediate interest in rich housewives arguing than they do an average American father and son dealing with a devastating disease diagnosis in a positive manner – in our case, by road-tripping to all 30 Major League Baseball parks.

Though that criticism stung when I first heard it, particularly from potential distributors, I see it more clearly now. I can see where people wouldn’t understand the work my father and I put in to our relationship to make it what it is today. Being blood-related is not enough to make one interested in a meaningful relationship. There are many, many assumed relationships by blood that don’t carry much meaning in the individuals lives. My dad, wisely, kindly and lovingly realized he wanted more from our relationship when I was 20 years old and away at college. That’s when he first proposed we go to all the ballparks, though it was a more modest manner at the time – we’d go to a few each summer. We did that for two summers, hitting seven ballparks (Chicago(2), Detroit, Milwaukee, New York Yankee, Boston and Philadelphia) in two very short trips. These were amazing trips and they meant the world to my dad and me.

Life got busy with my graduation, dad’s retirement and various plans, so we set the plan to see the parks on hold. In 2000, after six years of living the Hollywood grind, I felt like I had lost myself. I divorced my life and fled to the desert. My goal in moving to Las Vegas just shy of turning 30 was to figure “it” out – either I’d flame out from excess, gambling, drinking, women, etc. or I’d find out what I really wanted to be when I grew up. I dealt 21, I became Caesar, but most importantly, I did figure out some very important things about me. I knew for sure my path of being a filmmaker was far from over; it just didn’t necessarily have to run through Hollywood.

In 2001, after another difficult relationship breakup, I returned to the Bay Area to make my directorial debut with a very personal film called, “the long road home”. In it, the main character was dealing with calling off a much-hyped wedding, the sudden death of a controversial mentor in a high school football coach and a stale relationship with his father. I gave the script to my mom and dad to read. While the film is not auto-biographical, it is derivative, so I was nervous as I knew they’d see pieces of themselves in the script. My dad said it was the best script I’d ever written. Not only that, he backed the film with a loan to ensure it happened. My parents both okayed the use of their house as my production hub and a practical location for shooting. These were all incredible gifts I couldn’t have made the film without.

One month before production was set to begin, my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. I really didn’t understand what that meant. I had heard of it, but, again, didn’t know what it meant. My dad wasn’t too concerned. Whatever was happening wasn’t stopping him from doing anything or being who he wanted to be at that time. Two weeks later, my mom’s diagnosis with breast cancer was a different story. This stopped them in their tracks. She was going to get aggressive chemotherapy as the cancer had advanced. Even so, that wouldn’t begin for several months, and they restated their blessing for me to make the film.

The process was an incredible journey physically, mentally and spiritually. Making the film taxed me in a way almost nothing else has. As director, producer, writer and lead actor I was pulled in every direction at once. I needed autonomy after seeing my first two films fall short of my expectations, at least in part, because of some of the people involved. My parents gave me that respect – not at all blindly, but based on who I was and what I’d done to that point. I had completed a circle, taking a long road home to get back to zero and reassess where I was going next.

Three weeks into a four week shoot, my dad woke me up, saying, “You better come take a look at this.” I walked, sleepy-eyed, into the front room just in time to see a plane hit the second of the twin towers. It didn’t look real. I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. We were glued to the television, like millions of others around the world. The thing that moved me from the set was the immediate demand by certain talking heads for accountability – like the situation was immediately clear and that punitive action toward those people would make a difference. I walked away.

On 9/4/11, we shot a scene from “the long road home” at the Oakland Airport. We literally walked past all security, to the gate, with me even walking onto a jetway to make it look like I was exiting a plane, in order to get our shots for the film. We were clandestine at first, shooting out of duffle bags and wearing wireless lavalier mics. But after a few hours and without receiving anything more than a raised eyebrow from anyone official, we started to shoot more openly. We got a great opening scene. We were very likely the last people to ever be able to shoot in an airport with that kind of access and freedom.

Near the end of the film, near the end of my character’s (Bo) journey on screen, he has begun to wake up to some new truths about himself and his surroundings. As he’s packing, preparing to leave and go back to his new adult home, he asks his father a painful question. That scene is here.

This scene, too, was inspired by a real life conversation with my dad. It wasn’t this exact dialogue, except for the part where dad answered a tough question with “I love you very much”. It was the only answer he could give and, after I calmed down, it gave me a tremendous window of understanding into my dad; we’re not the same, we’re not always going to see eye-to-eye and that is, more than okay, great. By respecting each others differences and honoring each other as the people we are for the things we do, even if we don’t necessarily understand or agree with everything, we have drawn closer to each other. Interestingly, after growing up as political opposites, we have both drawn closer to the middle – not saying that’s the right way to think, but in our hours and hours of conversations that span everything (and I do mean everything), the exchange of ideas has been comforting, enlightening and healing.

If you’d like to see “the long road home” in its entirety, it can be found here. It got some very nice comments won some awards in its brief festival run – I simply ran out of money to push it so I moved on to my next project. Thank you and I look forward to your comments.

Calling it quits

We’ve gone far enough. We’ve been rejected – multiple times. It’s time to call it quits. These are the voices in my head.

Duke and Northwestern said no to my MFA application, making me a terrifically transparent zero for five in my applications for fall 2014. My dad is not feeling any new results from the treatment he's been undergoing here in Las Vegas. There is no new support or even, truthfully, constant regular support for the sequel to Boys of Summer. With all that in mind, the reasonable thing to do is move on.

But I don’t feel like being that shade of reasonable.

In any process toward the completion of a goal, there are going to be obstacles, mistakes and challenges. All of these present the opportunity to learn or die. I choose to learn. School is off the radar for the fall of 2014. That doesn’t mean I won’t continue to teach and learn my craft. My dad is feeling anxious about this plateau. Dr. DeMartino anticipated this and has begun him on a new level of the treatment, adding in supplements, variations of the modalities already in play and nutrition. The detoxification continues. And when it does, stuff sometimes comes out of us that we find shocking – feelings, parasites, odd smelling and colored stuff. It’s all part of resetting back to zero and starting again. This does not equate to failure. It’s just the process.

As for Boys of Summer – Second Base, nothing that we’re doing, dad’s treatment, golf training, meditation and the sheer amount of time we’re spending together, would be happening without this process. I don’t know what the film will add up to. I don’t have to. My job is to respect the process, roll the camera and ask questions. It will be what it needs to be when it needs be it. Onward.

If you'd like to contribute, we certainly would appreciate your help. Please visit http://www.bosmovie.com. Thank you.

Dan & Robert talk

Today Dad and I spent some time in front of the camera together, something we did a lot of in the first documentary, but haven't done much of so far. Part of this has been because I've been one-man-banding this act and really focussing on shooting dad's process. Part of that is very freeing and interesting, especially since I am far more camera/image focus than I was in the past. The other side, though, that is missing, is the connection between us, literally, on screen. To that end, I offer today's video.

We talked about a number of things - golf and giving it up, which may sound antithetical against our process of trying to get my dad back to it, but if you watch the video you'll get it. We also talked about the things we take for granted, like walking and the value of said simple things. And, of course, we talked a little A's baseball - which is quite enjoyable right now with the boys tearing up the league!

We also had a very interesting meeting with Zen Master, Thomas Pastor. He's one of the teachers at the Zen Center of Las Vegas. Dad's going to begin to learn how to meditate. There are many studies, especially in the last couple of years, that point to the specific scientifically provable benefits for the brain by meditating. Almost nothing could make more sense for my dad to engage in and we're excited to start the process. 

Lastly, we talked about Giuseppe's graduation from preschool. While it might sound like a silly idea to have a graduation from preschool, if you know his medical history, which included a rough start at birth, and understand he's been there at UNLV's preschool for three years now, you'll know this is a great thing to celebrate. I'll post some pictures tomorrow.

As always, we appreciate your comments and hope you'll take a look at our book, Simple Stuff, which is still a free download for the next two days. 

Adding on: NASA, good death and meditation

We're rolling into our second week of my dad's rehabilitation with great vigor, picking up ideas as we go. Dr. DeMartino has contacted the creator of Quantum Neurology, Dr. George Gonzalez, and gotten the okay for me to interview him. Details to come.

Dad got his first lessons on the Taylormade driving range today with pro, Eric Meeks. Eric was very impressed with what he saw from my dad and was able to offer some quick tips that delivered immediate results.

"I hit some balls better today than I have in a long time," my dad said. 

Dad will continue to swing the clubs twice a week with Eric for the next few weeks. Though there's a temptation to do more, dad's taking it slowly for now.

Nathan Adelson CEO (Las Vegas), Carole Fischer

I interviewed Nathan Adelson Hospice CEO in Las Vegas, Carole Fischer on Monday morning. We had an excellent discussion about the value of discussing death in living a better life. Carole has seen many people pass on under her hospice care and is clearly moved by the experience. We talked a lot about the idea of a "good death" much as people talk about having a good day, a good career or even a good life. The fact of the matter is death is inevitable for all of us. Pretending we won't some day be gone creates a tremendous burden upon those left behind who should be dealing with the emotional loss. It's interesting, too, as I've been teaching the primacy/recency theory to some of my film students, expressing the value in memory humans have for things first and last in a list. If a life is thought of that way, who would want his lasting memory to be one of difficulty, guilt, questioning, financial burden, etc. when it could be laughter, tears of joy, knowledge and a fullness that the passing that occurred was as peaceful and undramatic as possible?

Dr. DeMartino brought up some further studies about the value of infrared light therapy and its use by NASA. Between that, the recent scholarly work by MIT, I'm hoping to push the use of this technology/treatment off of the cynical block to at least healthy skepticism for practitioners and patients alike. I appreciate, again, that Dr. DeMartino hasn't backed away from any of my challenges or questions about what is being done. He fully acknowledges the difficulty both in his own group of peers (naturopaths and chiropractors) as well as with those who use other modalities (particularly those considered "western" or AMA doctors). It's going to take time, results and constant messaging. I hope we're part of a positive movement with our documentary.

Finally, meditation is the newest addition to dad's treatment. We're going to visit the Zen Center in Las Vegas and make that a regular part of dad's practice. If meditation is like a workout for your brain and the brain is the area most affected - or most immediately affected -- by Parkinson's, it only makes sense to put dad on the mediation treadmill and make his grey matter sweat. If it's good enough for the Dalai Lama, it's good enough for us.

End of Week one of treatment - golf on the horizon?

As mentioned previously, two of the things that make my dad's quality of life much higher are the abilities to drive and play golf. The driving part is obvious, as that is his freedom. Golf, beyond being enjoyable, has the added benefit of exercise, something that is essential for Parkinsonians.

He's still got that swing.

I came up with the idea to visit the Taylormade golf center on Las Vegas Blvd (south of the major casinos, for those who don't know the lay of the lie in LV). We met up with Eric Meeks, the 1988 US Amateur Champion and head pro at Taylormade. He and several other staff members were very kind in listening to our story and desire to help my dad redesign his golf swing in conjunction with the treatment he's receiving to relieve the pain so he can continue to play the game he loves.

We decided to begin going to two brief (20-30 minute) lessons a week. Add that to my dad's one hour treatments with Dr. DeMartino and a twenty-minute workout in the gym with me and he's got a fairly full dance card -- which is good.

Dr. DeMartino demonstrating the shift in Dan's strength
before and after infrared light treatment.

In our work with Dr. DeMartino, I pushed for more information on quantum neurology, in general, and the infrared light treatment, specifically. Dr. DeMartino answered the questions handily and with his usual confidence. According to an article the April 2014 Natural Awakening magazine, "Quantum neurology focuses more on functional, rather than pathological, nerve issues. Traditional neurology looks for lesions and tumors or some disease process that will cause the nerve itself not to work, which is a very important thing to rule out. However, if there is no broken bone or tumor or pathology, then the reason why the nerve isn't working correctly still has not been found.

No actual Dan Cochrane's were harmed in the shooting
of this photograph.

The application of mediums such as vibration and infrared light therapy cause such rapid cellular healing that doctors see neurological change which, in the past, was something that could never be achieved." (Miron, M., "Working on the cutting edge of new medicine"). I got to see the vibration technique at play in concert with the infrared light. Dr. DeMartino also showed some immediate strength changes just by activating the cells. Now, one of the key points in all this, is how will these gains be kept. Dr. DeMartino says it is a matter of training, like anything else with the body, but it's being done at the cellular level.

Dad flew home on Thursday night to the Bay Area - though, in truth, it was more like Friday morning as his 9:30p scheduled departure didn't leave until 3:30am! Poor guy. He'll have time to rest at home, then will be making his way back on Monday to start the process all over again.

Treatment - Day 2

In direct opposition of Clubber Lang, my dad's expectations for the day: "Less pain". With that, my dad ambled into Dr. DeMartino's office. He received the same treatment as on day two, starting with the foot bath, followed by the light therapy and then the chiropractic work.

"The set up of the light floods the body with extra energy so that what we do will take," Dr. DeMartino said, explaining the light therapy that I still have lots of questions about.

He checked my dad's hips and feet and was pleased with the movement. He then applied pressure to the atlas and skull bone. Holding the pressure right there, he explained there's a lot more to this joint then medicine has been giving credit for. At some point in the near future he will add electric current to the therapy.

"I'm a big fan of adding pieces as we go," he said. "Instead of adding things all together and then you can't tell what does what."

The bloodwork is an important tool, he said, but the body will yield even more information. The detox will start soon, too. After that he will do a urinalysis. This interests me greatly as we have specific scientific results from similar tests done on my dad ten years ago when he was seen by Dr. Len Saputo, a doctor in the Bay Area who uses some of the same modalities as Dr. DeMartino.

We talked about balance, as my dad feels off balance. He talked about counter-receptors and eyes/vision in addition to what's going on in the inner ear. He spoke of proprioception, which is, in layman's terms your brain's ability to sense your body's position throughout space. This interested me, on another tangent, because Peyton Manning had just been discussing this with David Letterman. 



Dr. DeMartino also brought up the interesting case of Ozzy Osbourne. As Dr. D. is, in his own words,  a big fan of Black Sabbath, he went to see their reunion tour a few years back. This was while the Osbourne's reality show was on television. In case you don't know, Ozzy came off as a blithering idiot for the most part, rambling incoherently in place of speech. When Dr. D went to see Black Sabbath he was curious to see what was left of the bat-head biting Ozzy of old. It turned out quite a bit was left. While singing, Ozzy was perfect -- as if transported back to the early 1980's . When he would speak, in between songs, he was…the blithering idiot. So what does this say about how are brains work? Quite a bit, actually. For one, we don't understand the inordinate number of pathways, nerve endings or transmissions up there nearly as much as we'd like to. The way we understand things, in fact, may be completely wrong. This happens more frequently than we often acknowledge (see: "debunk this").

Calling all Skeptics

My dad has begun an interesting healing process under the watchful eye of Dr. DeMartino at Superior Health Solutions (SHS) in Las Vegas. Over the next two-to-three months he will be in Las Vegas four days a week for treatment. Too bad we couldn’t have booked him for some stage time, too.

filming dad in the foot bath at Superior Health Solutions

What makes this interesting, first and foremost, is my dad’s hopefulness. There’s a lot of research about placebos and a patient’s willingness or fight to get better. I’ve read lots on both sides of the argument and by no means do I think what my dad is doing at SHS will reverse or cure his Parkinson’s Disease (PD). The greatest thing they’re offering and feel fairly confident about is pain management. My dad told me today he feels a significant uptick in the amount of pain he goes through on a daily basis over the last several months.

“Golf just isn’t much fun anymore,” he said to me flatly over lunch today.

That one line was heartbreaking because there have been two threshold points we’ve been measuring my dad’s PD with: golf and driving. We have said for some time when he’s unable to do either, let alone both, we’ll be looking at all of this quite differently. These things lend to his freedom and enjoyment of life. Without them, the world as he understands it looks very different – far less appealing to say the least.

We sat down with Dr. DeMartino and he went over my dad’s bloodwork. Then dad had three modalities of treatment: 1) Ionic foot bath (which Dr. DeMatino admitted and a quick search of the Internet will verify is highly controversial in terms of its efficacy), 2) light therapy, 3) Chiropractic adjustments – focusing on dad’s misaligned hips via pressuring points in the neck.

I am not familiar with the foot bath or light therapy enough to say more than they appear interesting and certainly do no harm. I want to reiterate a few things: we’re not paying for the treatment (outside of dad’s travel expenses), he’s allowing (even encouraging) documenting and challenging everything, the goal here is sustained pain reduction. The outside hope would be for a halt of PD symptoms but, again, that’s not the main thrust or anything that’s been promised.

As we were told, the foot bath changes colors as
toxins are pulled from the body. 

At the end of the treatment, dad did feel as if he was straighter. He did feel some pain relief. He seemed to wish he could keep getting treatment (almost as if to say: “Fix more! Fix more!”), but Dr. DeMartino is taking a slow, cautious approach.

Here’s what I want: if you think this treatment is bunk or Dr. DeMartino is a hoax, please sound off here. Let me hear specifically what you question and why. If you have any research or personal experience, again, I welcome it. My dad has said that when he’s shared this treatment plan with some others they’ve looked at him with pity – as if to say, “Oh, you’re really that desperate, eh?” While I wouldn’t say he’s desperate, he is in pain. Looking ahead at a life of filled with chronic pain without what have become assumed freedoms (driving) or enjoyed recreation (golf) has a way of coloring one’s point of view. So again, I ask: do not pull punches here. Let us know what you think.

We are still fundraising for the sequel documentary and we need your help! Please click here to donate to our film. We will keep a running tab of how much we've raised and what are expenses are for so you can see where the money goes. Thank you.