The Way the World Should Look: Magical Bridge Playground Comes to Redwood City

Last week my town held the groundbreaking ceremony for its own Magical Bridge playground. This is a big deal, not just for Leo and our family, but for every local with a disability who has ever felt unwelcome at, or been unable to access, the casual, fun neighborhood playgrounds and parks experience that most other residents take for granted. This is inclusion done right.

If you're not familiar with Magical Bridge, you probably will be in the near future: The Magical Bridge Foundation is creating and deploying all-abilities-and-ages playgrounds right here in Silicon Valley. And when all goes according to plan, their ideals and examples and playgrounds will take over the world! (If you want to be part of this master plan, the best option right now is to help bringing Magical Bridge playgrounds to Sunnyvale and Morgan Hill.)

Since my crew and I are locals, the Magical Bridge power duo of founder Olenka Villareal and co-founder Jill Asher asked me to be one of the folks who gave short speeches during the ceremony. Here's what I had to say:

"Hi, I’m Shannon Des Roches Rosa. I’ve lived in Redwood City since 1994, and I’ve never wanted to live anyplace else in this region. My husband and I have three kids, all of whom went to Redwood City schools, and participated in the coin drives that helped make our Magical Bridge playground happen.

Actually giving this very speech. Photo © Elaine Park
[image: Me at a podium in a park, talking with my hands.]

My middle child, Leo, was diagnosed with autism when he was three years old. And, as he got older, it became really obvious that the parks that he loved, like Maddux Park—where his big sister has a tile with a print of her baby-sized foot in the wall, and Stafford Park, and all the other wonderful parks in Redwood City were no longer as welcoming as they used to be.

Leo at Magical Bridge in Palo Alto, with Jill (L) and Olenka (R)
[image: Leo happily sitting in a spinning playround pod, between two
blonde white women wearing blue Magical Bridge t-shirts.]

"It’s hard, when your kids are different, or you’re different: sometimes other people are uncomfortable around you. And nobody wants to be around people who make you feel bad. So after a while, we started to spend more time at home, or would only go to parks and playgrounds when we knew no one else would be there. My son is a high-support mostly non-speaking guy, but he is amazing—and amazingly physical, and he always wants to hang out, run around, and play. So imagine my surprise and delight in finding out about Magical Bridge.

My kids Leo and J. playing together (!) at Magical Bridge Palo Alto
[image: Small white girl pushing a conical merry-go-round on which
her brother is lying down. Both kids seen from behind.]

"The first time I visited the Magical Bridge Playground in Palo Alto with my kids, I almost couldn’t believe that a place like it existed. And that’s not just about its accessibility: It’s not about the fact that everybody can play; it’s about the everybody does play. It’s the fact that, when I’m there, there are kids who don’t have obvious disabilities like my son does—but they will talk to him. They will take turns with him. And sometimes, we’ll realize that a few of them are part of our autism community, because they’ll want to talk about every single category of Pokemon for five straight minutes—and that’s great, too!

Leo at the Magical Bridge 2017 Halloween Party. We would *never*
go to a playground this busy, if it wasn't Magical Bridge
[image: Leo, wearing an orange-and-black Fred Flintstone costume,
seen from behind, swinging on a disc swing, at a crowded playground.]

"So I’m really excited about having a Magical Bridge Playground here in Redwood City because inclusion really matters. Because my son, and all of our friends with disabilities, whether they’re here today or not—they are human beings. With hopes, dreams, fears, and likes (my son is 17 years old; he likes Deadpool), just like you.

"But the fact that, so often, other people let disability get in the way of recognizing our shared humanity—that’s a problem. And that’s not something that happens when you have a place like Magical Bridge in Palo Alto already is, and Magical Bridge in Redwood City is going to be: It’s not about pity, it’s not about charity; it’s about making the world look the way it’s supposed to look—for everybody. And that’s why I just can’t wait until we have Magical Bridge here in our own backyard.

"Thank you so much, Olenka and Jill."

[video description: The Magical Bridge Redwood City speech-givers, doing ceremonial ground-breaking
by wearing hard hats and happily shoveling some dirt, in unison.]

Identifying & Accepting Happy Autistic Kids at the Playground

Tell me the truth: What would your reaction be, if you encountered a kid like Leo endlessly pacing a playground structure as in the video below? If you didn't read this blog, or blogs like it; if you didn't have your own Leo, if you weren't a variation on Leo yourself? Would you back away awkwardly from the weird kid while scanning the perimeter for his adult? Would you tell your own children in an intentionally over-loud voice, "well, I don't know what he's doing so we'll wait until he's all done"?

Or would you relax into his joy, recognize it, accept that pacing a circuit is some kids' idea of The Very Best Fun?

(Please tell me it's the latter. I've been busting my ass just a little bit for Autism Acceptance Month. More below.)

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At Thinking Person's Guide to Autism, Our Slice of Life: All Autistics Autism Acceptance Month series continues to rock on, showcasing autistics of all ages and abilities -- so stay tuned and keep reading (Leo may make an appearance).

From the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network: All Done Autism Acceptance:

I did not start out from a place of acceptance. As a disability community outsider and a fairly non-intuitive person, I lacked the context, experience, and insight to see past our society’s too-prevalent autism stereotypes of pity and parental burdens. I never knew anyone who identified as Autistic, never realized the full variation of the autistic experience, never considered that autism did not have to preclude Leo from living a full and happy life. Thankfully, the online and offline worlds are alight with autism acceptance trail blazers — autistics of course, professionals and parents too. They have not only shown me the way, but shown me incredible patience along the way (I’m not always the best listener). And I remain mindful that I still have much to learn about autism, and that much of that learning will come from Leo himself.

From an interview with Annie Fox about Thinking Person's Guide to Autism:

What we try to do in our book is help people learn to think critically and rationally about autism even when they are in the midst of this whirlwind of new information. So many parents are so distraught when they learn their child is diagnosed with autism. We want to help them through that. And we want to let them know that even though the media tends to perceive people with autism and special needs like this lightning bolt of ‘bad luck,’ people with special needs are part of our community. They’ve always been here. This is just another way of being. These people need more understanding. Yes! They need more support. Yes! But that doesn’t make them “other” or “less than.” These are families that need compassion and understanding, but not pity. We want to help people get past fear, myths and negative stereotypes.

The good folks at Babble Toddler Times wanted input about early intervention and autism (they also wanted advice for other paents to feature -- I suggested an autistic autism parent, but the logistics did not work out):

My advice is threefold: Find a pediatrician who takes your concerns seriously, find positive, evidence-based autism resources and role models (this is exactly why we created Thinking Person's Guide to Autism), and try to understand that your child's behavior is a form of communication. Our kids deserve to achieve their potential, but can easily get left behind if their unique needs are not properly identified and addressed early on. Autism experts can help us recognize where our kids need help — be it with communication, self-help, academics, or social skills — and the best strategies for supporting their needs. 

And in a bit of a surprise, Babble named this site one of their Top 30 Autism Blogs of 2012. Frankly, Thinking Person's Guide to Autism would have been a better choice (also, Leo and I never met Steve Jobs, though my spy network says he really liked Leo's part in the Apple iPad video) -- but being included is flattering, and I'm grateful. (And you should vote for TPGA for next year!)

Finally, we've had TPGA interviews for a ton of additional radio stations: KCBS-AM San Francisco, WSNJ-AM Philadelphia, WVNE-AM Boston, WYRQ-FM Minneapolis, WOND-AM Philadelphia, WQYK-FM Tampa, and four more coming. Mali and Leo heard the local interview with Jeff Bell; Mali was so impressed that she waited until the segment was over before demanding I put her Goblet of Fire audio book back on. Should you ever need to get the word out about a book, I hope you'll be fortunate enough to enlist the services of the phenomenal Media Masters Publicity -- we have them to thank for these radio spots!

Leelo and the Children on the Merry-Go-Round

Leo has socializing opportunities aplenty -- around town, with all the people and kids who come to visit and swim and cook with us, during excursions. But those interactions are all heavily managed, to help him avoid sensory overstimulation, and so he won't pull a frustrated HULK SMASH on me, his sisters, or unsuspecting passersby. It breaks my heart to write this, but: he is not a free-range boy, not in scenarios where other children are running wild. It's too risky.

So when he asked to "go play, play with the kids" who were swarming the merry-go-round at Franklin Square playground today, my initial reaction was no. HELL NO. Not just because Leelo is unpredictable, but because -- as I suddenly realized -- I don't trust other children to be kind to him.

But he wanted to go. He was desperate to go, to be part of the puppy pileup of his-aged kids. He kept saying, "Want to play, want to play!"

Ours is a boy who rarely asks to play with other kids. How could I say no?

I said yes.

Off he ran. He dove straight through the outer ring of children, and positioned himself in the center of the merry-go-round. I stood nearby, reminding myself to breathe, ready to spring, explain, apologize.

I never had to.

The other children accepted Leo at their center, without question. No one said anything, or gave him funny looks, not even as he his siren-like crow of delight grew louder as the kids spun faster, faster, faster.

Look at this ecstatic boy-in-the-middle:

I'll be watching this video on YouTube nonstop for the next 48 hours.

Parents, if any of those children belong to you, please give them extra hugs from me. They're amazing.

Today was Leelo's first day of summer. I hope it has set the tone for the next two months.