The best humble pie

Last night, I shed some major baggage thanks to Sam. We’d spent a long day helping out at a community event. He wanted to say good-bye to one of the organizers because “she’s a very nice lady.”

She’s also very pretty. Sam, like any red-blooded fellow, likes a pretty woman. I teased her husband just a little bit.

“Watch out,” I said.

There was an awkward pause, and then Sam said, “He doesn’t need to watch out.”

Oh, don’t even bother cutting up the crow, just hand it over and I’ll stuff it in there with my foot.

All of my children are gentle souls who have a great deal of respect for personal boundaries. Unlike their father, who was a gentle soul, too, but struggled mightily to keep boundaries where they belong.

I learned last night I don’t own their father’s errors. Not in the least. In fact, I don’t need to watch out at all.

Resources for Parents Conference

For minimal travel, and a low cost ($10 includes lunch), to this new conference in Fort Worth, you can get a more information and help than you would at a resource fair, but without the time demands of a major, all-day, or multi-day event far away.

Here’s the schedule.

And in the spirit, I’d better figure out how to trim a 90-minute talk (which was already trimmed from a half-day presentation) to a half-hour …

The “Empathy Deficit” fallacy

At the risk of falling to the theory of self-reference, I’ve always been skeptical that people with autism lack empathy. I’ve just never seen that deficit in Sam, nor in any other people with autism or Asperger’s that I’ve met.

I got to thinking about that after reading this piece in the Boston Globe, which goes to some length to describe how our kids apparently are lacking it.

Empathy, by definition, means some kind of emotional response to the pain or suffering of another. Babies and children don’t always demonstrate their empathy the way adults do — that’s part of our socialization — but they feel it just the same.

My guess is that some of us not on the spectrum look for empathy to be demonstrated in a tangible way. Then when we don’t see it, we say “a-ha, that person with autism lacks empathy.”

The Boston Globe article even spelled that out with a list of tasks an empathetic person is more likely to do. Most of them, I could imagine Sam doing, but not always for purely empathetic reasons.

For example, “return incorrect change to a cashier” could also be following the rules and keeping things correct.

The next two, “let someone else ahead of them in line” and “carry a stranger’s belongings” requires a person to break a social rule about getting into another person’s personal space. Sam does this all the time at Albertsons because he is a courtesy clerk and it’s expected of him. I’ve seen it generalize.

“Give money to a homeless person,” “volunteer,” “donate to a charity,” check, check and check. In fact, we talk about picking our charitable causes with purpose.

“Look after a friend’s pet or plant,” been there, done that.

“Live on a vegetarian die.” Sorry, we’re in Texas and he’s meat-eater. But butchering day comes with much reverence. We all know where our food comes from.

Sometimes I think we overreact to perceived deficits.

Sam doesn’t hug me. I don’t ask for it. Here’s why. The few times we do hug, there is so much human connection, I can almost feel the nuclear fission begin. Better not to disturb the universe like that.

Corpus Christi Report

I love the mind-meld that happens when everyone whose been in the trenches talks amongst themselves, as just happened last weekend at the Texas State Autism Conference. Great things can happen when everyone not only comes together and keeps together, but also works together.

There is a lot of work to be done for kids that are transitioning to colleges and the work force, but we’ll get there.

Perhaps the crisp blue skies, white clouds, and fresh, sweet air got to my head, but I think all things are possible again.

Shoot the moon

Despite being institutionalized briefly as a toddler, autism’s first child, Donald Triplett, survived and thrived because his parents brought him back home to Forest, Miss.

From his school chums to his golfing buddies, Donald’s community accepts his strengths and helps protect him from people with dubious intentions.

It doesn’t just take a village. It takes a village with soul.