This Thursday 5/25 I'll be onstage in Oakland at the very worthy social justice storytelling event Listen for a Change, talking about why autism acceptance matters, from my (parent) perspective. If you're local, you should come! Tickets are free, donations are optional but appreciated, and it always reaches capacity. It's going to be an intense evening, as the other speakers will be talking about sexual assault and foster parenting and adoption. And I'll be doing it without any notes, eep, so if you want to see just how awkward I can be in person, this is your chance.
I'm also still coming down from IMFAR, the International Meeting For Autism Research: it is always a blast, in terms of seeing people I rarely get to see otherwise, and meeting new folks (the science being presented, that is always checkered). But as I told friends elsewhere, IMFAR is like childbirth: I forget how much it wrecks me and how much recovery time I need afterwards—until it happens again. (A roundup will go up on TPGA shortly; in the meantime, check out TPGA's coverage of the IMFAR press conference and several excellent panels, as well as our general Twitter coverage.)
IMFAR, which is changing its name to match its parent org INSAR for the 2018 meeting, is definitely getting better, in terms of incorporating the concerns of autistic people themselves. And as the #AutIMFAR chat TPGA cohosted, and which featured researchers and/or autistic community members illustrated. The value of acceptance was emphasized more than at any other IMFAR I've attended (and this was my sixth). e.g.:
According to Nikko Da Paz of UCSF her study shows the healthiest thing you can do is accept your child's autism #imfar2017— John Elder Robison (@johnrobison) May 13, 2017
Acceptance is healthy for our family. It makes a huge difference in our overall quality of life, this going with and figuring out what Leo needs, rather than fixating on what he can't do (or what others assume he can't do). We are, of course, also lucky in other areas of life, which is an undeniable factor in our overall happiness. And acceptance is not a magic wand; parts of Leo's life are still very difficult and frustrating for him, and we're still working on helping him figure that out. But acceptance means giving ourselves permission to pursue joy, so let me show you how that looked for us during April.
First, let me tell you my very favorite moment: We are beach people, which in Northern California means staying on the beach itself and enjoying the critters and the plants and the views and the sand (I like sand; sand is squishy)—but not going anywhere near the waves, because, inescapable death (gnarly rip tides, reefs, rocks, sharks). I favor Gray Whale Cove, because it tends to be littered with mussel shells, and I like shells.
When we arrived at the cove during our last visit, I didn't see any shells. And I voiced my disappointment. Then a few beats later my eagle-eyed son, who, like his dad, notices things I don't, walked up to me and presented me with this shell, which I shall treasure always:
|[image: pearly inside of a mussel shell]|
|[image: Leo chilling on a sandy ridge at Gray Whale Cove, |
next to actual mostly decomposed gray whale.]
While J. had Spring Break, we shipped her down south for a week: first with her best bud, and then with my mom. Meanwhile, I got to go visit Iz at college for the first time. She is really enjoying being a freshman, and also loves living in a cool new city with lots of concerts. I don't blame her for loving the Pacific Northwest; plus where are the rockin' vegan tiki bars in our area?
|Most cocktails are vegan (like Iz) by default: win!|
[image: Me and Iz; I'm sipping a Mai Tai out of a bikini
babe glass, Iz is drinking lemonade, both glasses have
the requisite tiki bar tiny umbrellas.]
Her college also does Sakura (cherry blossom time) quite well, as indicated by the throngs of tourists like me taking pictures.
|[image: selfie: Me and Iz and cherry trees]|
Bonus: Iz and I got to visit with our beloved SJ and family, and even frolic in a burgeoning-with-buds botanical garden.
|[image: Four wavy-haired brownish-red-headed white women & girls,|
with Cavalier King Charles spaniels, in magnolia grove.]
I also got to witness Iz do her college radio DJ thing, which, for someone as focused on music and concerts as this girl has been for years, is nearly a waking dream.
|[image: Iz at a college radio DJ station, with computer|
terminal and microphone.]
Between spring breaks, J. finally fulfilled one of her own dreams, thanks to a birthday gift card from Ep, and started a small succulents garden on our back porch. She is determined to avoid being one of those people (like her mom) who drowns succulents by not believing how infrequently they need water.
|[image: Jo holding two potted succulents: a barrel cactus, |
and a purple-flowering ruschia.]
And then it was Leo's turn for spring break. We headed north, to check out a train he'd never ridden: Fort Bragg's Skunk Train. On our way, we stopped at Muir Woods and wandered through the spectacular redwoods:
|You say signage, Leo says benchage|
[image: Leo sitting on a big bronze plaque,
on the main Muir Woods trail.]
We stayed at a hotel in Sebastopol, that town I have long adored for its high density of rare and unusual plant nurseries and unrepentant hippies. Though the latter group unfortunately tends to conflate natural living with anti-vaxxer BS, its pervasive laissez-faire attitude means Leo was openly welcomed everywhere we went as his own enthusiastic self, whether by the staff and patrons at a local Himalayan restaurant, or while playing on a playground meant for and populated by much younger kids and their parents. Spontaneous, natural acceptance makes me exhale from the very depths of my soul, as goofy as that metaphor may be, and Leo certainly appreciates being able to relax while out in public.
|[image: Leo drinking a sweet lassi yogurt|
beverage at an Indian/Nepalese restaurant.]
And then we went to Ft. Bragg! And rode the Skunk Train! It was awesome! Leo was blissfully happy, so I was too. Highly recommended for train nerds, though note it's best to order tickets ahead of time (which we did).
|[image: Leo and me in the Skunk Train's antique passenger car]|
Leo was also a good sport about me unlocking a life goal and going to nearby Glass Beach. Which, glassy! Observe:
|[image: close up of my hand covered in colorful chunks|
of beach glass and pebbles.]
Leo really was OK with going to Glass Beach, because it had lovely small smooth pebbles to swish his hands through and sort, much like our own local Pebble Beach.
|[image: Delighted Leo sitting on Glass Beach itself, while rubbing |
beach glass and pebbles in his hands]
Our Sebastopol hotel location was based on two factors: proximity to downtown noms, and hot tub access. The second was actually the more important, as, behold:
|[image: Beaming Leo in a hotel in-ground hot tub.]|
Leo and I also went hiking a lot during his break, since this year's post-super rains wildflower scene was epic.
|[image: Selfie of me and Leo in front of a wildflower-|
|[image: wildflower meadow without me and Leo]|
J. also got some time just for her, as is healthy in any family: A friend invited us on a bio-nerdy critter-viewing trip at a local slough. We saw otters upon otters (literally: little baby otters snuggling with their moms). And so many baby harbor seals looking like fat footballs with big eyes. And Western Grebes doing their parallel mating takeoff from the water! We learned a LOT.
|[image: What an actual sea otter cuddle party looks like.]|
And we did full-family (minus Iz) events as well, like this hike through yet another wildflower-exploding park, with its bonus waterfall view. J enjoyed identifying different plants, though we're not sure whether this one is a wild carrot or a Queen Anne's Lace.
|[image: J pointing to bountiful white-flowering bushes]|
|J also had a school orchestra concert, and asked to get fancified. This is her version of what that means, which I think is adorable:|
|[image: J wearing a short-sleeved white dress shirt,|
red lipstick, and showing off red-painted nails]
And since it finally stopped raining (not that we're ungrateful for the rain after years of drought), we busted out the hammock Leo's grandmother gave him for Christmas. He approves.
|[image: Leo lounging in a rainbow-striped hammock]|
The month ended with an event Leo looks forward to all year long: Surfing with Ride-A-Wave. (Santa Cruz has non-inescapable-death beaches.) This all-volunteer-staffed event lets Leo actually go surfing, and boogie boarding too. The volunteers are mostly beatific, chill veteran surfers,.
And yet this year's experience had a short sharp WTF as we were leaving, and our wonderful, supportive surfer dude aide told me he admired what I did, because I was dealing with such a blessing and a burden. Right in front of Leo.
I was too stunned to say anything except "he is NOT a burden," and then later tell Leo it was not cool for people to talk about him like he's not there, because he's obviously always paying attention and listening even when he's not being spoken to directly (see mussel shell anecdote above).
|[image: Leo doing a beach run and getting a high-five|
from his surfing assistant.]
And that, once again, is the difference between awareness and acceptance. When a kind, thoughtful man who means well, did not mean to be patronizing, and who obviously thinks Leo is a cool dude because he has just spend the entire morning having a great time with him, nevertheless thinks that our life is pitiful—then we have to get beyond autism awareness. Way beyond. We have to keep pushing for acceptance and understanding.
Please help me share that message.
You'll notice that most of these pics represent events in which either Seymour or I were present, not both. That's part of autism acceptance: we don't always get to travel together as a family, and that's OK. I think for many contemporary two-parent families (those for whom travel in itself is not already a stretch), this kind of compromise seems unbearable or unreasonable—but for us, and for any family whose circumstances limit choices, compromise (which is what accommodations often are, after all) is what you do.
Please help me share that message.
LOVE the pics, love the travel tales, and feel so saddened by what Leo heard. Good for you for responding (despite your shock) and for always looking out for your kiddos. Acceptance is key.ReplyDelete