They Are Our Son-Shines

Thought for the day:  Here's what I've learned about raising boys— if you keep 'em busy, they're fine. You let 'em get bored, they'll dismantle your house board by board. [Kenny Rogers]

[image courtesy of Morguefile]

Have you ever noticed how puppies... and little boys... play? Lots of similarities there. The exuberance... the horseplay... the unending energy... the smell. For sure, our sons loved to horse around like a couple of over-sized puppies when they were growing up. Matter of fact, even when they were well into their twenties, if the two of them were visiting at the same time, it was a pretty sure bet that they'd eventually end up rough-housing, which usually involved some loud bumping into and bouncing off the walls. Then when they got older, they traded in the rough-housing for arm-wrestling and competitive weight lifting, which even drew Smarticus into the fray. Must be a guy thing. My daughter and I would never compete like that... unless you count board games.

We've come a long way since I took this picture of Smarticus and the kids back in about 1980 or so. Now the boys have kids of their own, who undoubtedly do their fair share of bouncing off the walls. Especially the boys.

Because, as anyone can tell you who has raised both boys and girls, boys and girls behave very differently. (As if they really are from two different planets at times.) All blessings in their own right, but let's just say that boys can also be rip-roaring odoriferous rambunctious challenges. (And I wouldn't have it any other way!)

[image courtesy of Morguefile]

At some point, one of our sons went from enjoying bath time to expending entirely too much energy trying to weasel out of it. Once, he even went to the trouble of filling the tub without actually bothering to put so much as a toe into the water. He just hung out in the bathroom for a while... reading a book. Then after what he deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, he let the water out and emerged in his clean pajamas. If he hadn't been so darned dirty, he might've gotten away with it.

Why is it with boys, when you tell them to wash their hands, you have to specify that they should use soap? Never mind. Silly question. Our son didn't even think he needed water...

Anyhow, raising children can teach parents all kinds of lessons. Not always things we want to know, mind you, but lessons nonetheless. I'm pleased to say we didn't personally experience all of the things on the following list of things parents learn by raising boys:

• A king-sized waterbed holds enough water to create a 4-inch deep flood in a 2000 square foot home.
• If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and then run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
• A 3-year-old's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.
• If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor isn't strong enough to rotate a 42-pound boy wearing batman underoos and a superman cape.
• However, it  is strong enough, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 x 20 room.
• You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on.
• When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit.
• A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.
• The glass in windows (even double-paned) doesn't stop a baseball that's been hit by a ceiling fan.
• When you hear a toilet flush and "uh-oh", it's already too late.
• Brake fluid mixed with Chlorox makes smoke. A LOT of smoke.
• A 6-year-old boy can start a fire with a flint rock, even though a 36-year-old man says it can only be done in the movies.
• Certain Legos will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year-old boy.
• Play dough and microwave should never be used in the same sentence.
• Super glue is forever.
• No matter how much Jello you put into a swimming pool, you still can't walk on water.
• Pool filters do not like Jello.
• VCRs do not eject PB&J sandwiches, even though TV commercials show that they do.
• Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
• Marbles in gas tanks make a lot of noise when driving.
• You probably don't want to know what that smell is.
• Always check the oven before turning it on; ovens do NOT like plastic toys.
• The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
• It will, however, make cats dizzy.

• Cats throw up twice their weight when dizzy.

[image courtesy of Morgefile]

                             Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Shining a Light onto Autism

Thought for the day: We need to embrace those who are different, and the bullies need to be the ones who get off the bus. [Caren Zucker]

[wikipedia]

April 2 is World Autism Awareness Day, and in the U.S., the entire month of April is National Autism Awareness month. Since I'll be taking my customary month-long break from blogging in April, now's my best opportunity to post about this important issue.

I think, as a whole, most of us are much more aware of autism today than we used to be, and many of us know someone personally who is somewhere on the autistic spectrum. Autistic people are... different. They view the world differently, and they are also different from each other. There's a wide range of behavior and perceptions within the spectrum, and above all, what autistic people crave is to be accepted just as they are. 

The following post is an update of one that first appeared on April 8, 2011, with the title Understanding Autism: A Long Way to Go. At the end of the post, you'll find information about a book I read recently. Why am I telling you about it now? All proceeds from book sales will be donated to autism research.

                                                           *     *     *     *    *   *    *


Thought for the day: I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.  Maya Angelou

Today's blog is going to be a little different. It's going to be about some people who are different, and I hope to help you gain a better understanding of them.

April is Autism Awareness Month, and with statistics showing that autism currently affects anywhere from one in 120 to one in 150 of the babies born in the US, you may already know one of these children ... or adults ... personally. In any case, in honor of autism awareness, I'd like to share a few things about this brain disorder with you, based solely on what I've learned from books and personal observations.

When I was growing up, I don't remember hearing anything about autism. In those days, children with special needs were lumped together in a special education classroom at school, or relegated to the mercies of a state facility.

In the late 60s, I briefly volunteered at one of those state facilities. Caroline, a co-worker and fellow do-gooder, and I were closed into a medium-sized room with 35-40 children. The only furniture in that room was a TV set, which sat on a shelf mounted high up on the wall beyond the reach of little fingers; and the only toys, rubber balls. Lots and lots of rubber balls. All colors, all sizes. And those balls were in constant motion. Rolling around the floor, bouncing off the walls, smacking into the children, smacking into us. Four or five children screamed non-stop. Two spun in circles until they fell to the floor. Then, they'd get up and spin some more. Two others curled on the floor at opposite sides of the room, either in drug-induced stupors, or near-catatonic states brought on by their conditions. Another child banged his head against the wall. Some children, who were incredibly strong, reached for us, and in their enthusiasm, pulled us to the floor.

 In retrospect, it's very likely that some of those children were autistic, but at that time, from what I saw, those children, as wards of the state, were simply being warehoused. All thrown together, regardless of diagnosis, if there even was a diagnosis. From what I learned later, the spinning behavior and general disconnect we observed at that institution are typical manifestations of autism. And all of those balls flying around the room must have been sheer hell for them.

Fast forward ...

During the eighties, I volunteered at our church's respite care program. This was a two-Saturdays-a-month venture, in which parents could get a much-needed respite by leaving their special needs children in our care for the day. Many of these children were autistic, enrolled in a special school, and receiving the best help available. Some of them also had severe physical challenges. But, all in all, they were amazing children, and they taught me a lot about the human spirit.

Autism strikes four times as many boys as girls, so that may explain why we had more boys than girls in our care. I'd like to tell you about one of these boys. His name was Steven.

Steven's body was painfully thin and twisted, and his spindly legs were strapped to a wheelchair. Leather straps buckled around his chest, pinning him in place, and a tray was clamped in front of him.

Unable to speak, he'd make loud guttural noises, shake his head back and forth, and flail his arms. We'd wipe the spittle from his chin, but tears would fill his eyes.

Then, he got an amazing electronic keyboard fitted to the tray of his wheelchair. Teachers showed him how to use it, and boyohboy, he was an amazingly fast learner. And know what? He became calmer. For the first time in his life, he could press a button, and a computer would say, "I'm thirsty!"  or, "I'm hungry!" or simply, "I'm mad!"

And to everyone's delight, we discovered that he had a terrific sense of humor.

Steven taught me, taught all of us, to always look for and remember the person inside. No wonder he was angry! He was trapped inside of a body that didn't work, but his spirit proved to be strong, once he was given a way to express himself.

I recently read a book called The Tell-Tale Brain, by V.S. Ramachandran, which he describes as "a neuroscientist's quest for what makes us human." He accomplishes that by exploring the workings of the human brain, and he also does an excellent job of explaining some of the differences in the autistic brain.

There are specialized neurons in the human brain called mirror-neurons. Say you're watching someone scratch his nose. These mirror-neurons will trigger activity within your brain that's identical to the activity that would be triggered if you were scratching your own nose. You don't actually move your hand to your nose, but at a basic level, you can relate. As you can imagine, these neurons are essential in the development of empathy, and in the formation of connections to the people around us. And there is a stark deficiency of these cells in the autistic brain.

So, without an innate sense of connection, these children, these people, find it very difficult to connect. Often can't look another person in the eyes. Don't want to be touched. Have a sense of isolation. It's been theorized that because of this sense of disconnect and isolation, some of these children inflict wounds upon themselves just to reassure themselves that they're alive. Sensory overload is a major issue. Too much light, too much noise, too much activity are all maddening to an autistic person. Strict routines and a reliably non-changing environment are important. The spectrum of autism is wide, and the degree of functionality and integration into society vary greatly. Great strides have been made in understanding and treating autism, but there is still a long long way to go.

And each of us can help. The more we try to understand, the more empathy we have, and the more acceptance we show for those who are different, the better this world of ours can be. In this, Autism Awareness Month, let us all be more aware of these struggling children, of their parents, often divorced and/or isolated themselves, who care for them, and who know that no matter how different their children may appear to the rest of society, they are also brilliant, creative human beings and a source of great joy.

Every person deserves the chance to reach for their highest hopes and fulfill their greatest potential. [Barack Obama, on World Autism Awareness Day, 2015]

                                                      *     *     *     *

At right is a cover pic of the book I mentioned earlier in this post. Fifteen authors, who write in a wide range of genres, combined their talents to create this anthology in loving support of autism research. This is a book you can enjoy in bits and pieces, or as a forget-it-I'm-not-moving-until-I-finish-reading-the-whole-darned-book manner. (Closer to my particular style.)

In the U.S., you can purchase this book
here, and it is also available through Amazon in other countries, as well.




Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Pull His Finger

Thought for the day:  I never got along with my dad. Kids used to say, "My dad can beat up your dad." I'd say, "Yeah? When?"  [comedian Bill Hicks]

If I remember right, that picture of my father, brother, and me was taken on an Easter Sunday. A long time ago. You know, back in the Dark Ages. We were mostly happy in those days, living in a tiny rental home in a fairly quiet neighborhood, with a decent-sized yard, and some room to roam around us. Things were never quite the same after we left there and moved into a row home with a postage stamp yard, and wall-to-wall people. I often wonder if our lives would have been different, easier maybe, if we'd stayed in what we thought of as the country.

He was a very difficult man with a lot of personal demons, our father, but I guess he did the best he knew how. Now that he's been gone for a few years, I do my best to remember the good times. Like the years we spent in that home, and the day my mother took that picture. Back in the Dark Ages.

I had another post prepared for today, but in honor of Father's Day, I opted to post something about fathers, instead. The bulk of this post is a re-run of a Father's Day post from 2011, originally titled, In Honor of Toasted Marshmallows, which describes my Smarticus pretty darned well. He can be tough and crusty on the outside... sometimes too tough... but on the inside, he's very sweet and gooey. Both qualities made him a wonderful dad, especially since he had me to balance things out a little. Because he tended to be too hard on our boys, and too easy on our daughter,  I had to be the Enforcer with our daughter, and the Mediator for our sons. (I mean, really, grounding them for life was a tad too much...) Anyhow, he was, and is, a terrific farter father, and I'm pleased to say both of our sons are superior farters fathers, as well. And you know, no matter how tall our kids are, I'm pretty sure they'll always look up to their dad.

This picture was taken quite a few years ago, too, but not in the Dark Ages. Our kids are no longer small enough to climb all over Smarticus, but... our grandchildren are. (Some of 'em, anyway.)

Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected. [Red Buttons]

There should be a children's song: "If you're happy and you know it, keep it to yourself, and let your dad sleep.  [Jim Gaffigan]

Okay, shall we revisit that old slightly edited post now? I'm even gonna leave in the four-year-old weird news bits...

888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Thought for the day:  Howcum a man can wait patiently for hours on end for a fish to bite, and can wait patiently in the freezing cold for hours on end, waiting for a deer to come by, but can't tolerate so much as a ten minute wait for food in a restaurant ... where it's a sure thing?

[seniorark.com]

You probably wouldn't be surprised to know the highest volume of long distance phone calls always occurs on Mother's Day. Not that there aren't plenty made on Father's Day, too. But most of them are collect. Why is it moms get the thoughtful gifts, while dads can usually count on getting aftershave or yet another tie they'll never wear? And when Father's Day rolls around, why do the kids think it's okay to buy dear old Dad something from the discount bin at the Dollar Store, and what's more, pay for it with change left over from the cash he gave them to buy something really nice for Mother's Day? As Bill Cosby put it, Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope.

Just because the phrase Pull my finger is in the lexicon of  fathers worldwide doesn't mean they aren't as sentimental as mothers. Not at all. They just don't show it as easily. Very often, they're like toasted marshmallows: crusty on the outside, and all sweet and mushy on the inside.

In honor of Father's Day, I'd like to share some excerpts with you from an article you may have seen before. Geezers has appeared countless places without attribution, but as best I could discern, it may have been written in 2001 by a West Virginia chaplain by the name of Koren Fae Rawlings:

[morguefile]

Geezers are easy to spot. At parades, they're the ones standing a little taller and often saluting when the flag passes by. At sporting events and at ceremonies on national holidays, they're the ones who stand erect and hold their hands over their hearts when the national anthem is played.

If you bump into an old geezer on the sidewalk, he'll apologize. Pass a geezer on the street, and he'll nod, maybe say hello. Geezers trust strangers and are courtly toward women. They hold the door for the next person, and always, when walking, make sure the lady is on the inside.

Geezers have moral courage. They're the ones staring down those making offensive remarks or acting in an offensive manner. Geezers seldom brag unless it's about their grandchildren.

This country needs geezers. We need their decent values and their common sense. We need their breadth of experience, their depth of knowledge and high ideals.

Thank God for all Old Geezers.
+++

And thank God for fathers.

Mark Twain said, "When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years." And Charles Wadsworth said, "By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he's wrong."

So give your dad a break. Even if he's not the affectionate sort, and his last hug felt more like a wrestling hold, let him know how much you appreciate him. Because he may not tell you how to live, but he lives, and lets you watch him do it.

To all you fathers, a very happy Father's Day. And to all of you who still have fathers, go ahead ... make him happy.  Pull his finger.

And now, 'tis time for the (ta DA!)

Weirdest News Stories of the Week

Pull my hoof

Cows have taken a bit of heat for the amount of methane they produce, and some countries have even considered imposing a "methane tax" on the people who own them. In 2008, researchers in Argentina hooked cows to the bizarre-looking contraption on the left to collect their methane, quantify it, and ascertain how much it contributed to the country's greenhouse emissions. As it turned out, they contribute quite a bit. Final results indicated that as much as 30% of the country's greenhouse emissions consist of cow farts and burps.



*** Now, the Australian government is taking a hard sniff at camel belches. With an estimated 1.2 million feral camels roaming the outback, each belching approximately one hundred gaseous pounds of methane every year, that racks up to a global warming impact equivalent to 1.1 tons of carbon dioxide. Per camel. The recent legislative proposal would allow sharpshooters to earn carbon credits by killing camels, and then these credits would subsequently be sold to global polluters to offset their own emissions. Bureaucrats are expected to reach a decision on this proposal by the end of the year.

I'd walk a mile for a roll of Tums. [morguefile]

***  The city of Nederland, Colorado, is offering to sell the celebratory rights for ... a dead man. When 89-year-old Bredo Mortoel died, his family decided to preserve his body, in hopes of one day being able to bring him back to life. So his body,  packed in dry ice, resides in an outdoor shed, and for the past ten years, this small mountain town has been celebrating this deceased man on ice with an annual festival, replete with a parade of hearses, frozen salmon tossing, and coffin races. Believe it or not, it's been a very popular festival, but you know how the economy is. The Chamber of Commerce says the festival has simply become too expensive, so they're trying to sell the rights to it, and hope an event company will step up to keep this unusual festival going.

our daughter and her husband

*** Ever wonder what those Scotsmen wear under their kilts? The answer became clear for recent groom Angus McClure, who sat his kilt-clad bottom on his new bride's knee. Unfortunately, his bare and poorly-wiped bottom left a brown "skid mark" on her pristine gown. Let's just say she wasn't at all impressed. In fact, she decked him, and a knock-down, drag-out, free-for-all followed. Police say they've seen nasty wedding party brawls before, but none quite this nasty. Seven people were hauled off to jail. The bride and groom? Once they sobered up, the report is they reconciled, and fortunately, have no memory of the melee. Let's hope no one took pictures.

                               
                                             Have a wonderful Father's Day, y'all.

                              Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

A Captured Moment

Thought for the day:  Racism isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a two-year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps! End of list. [Denis Leary]

The Atlanta Journal ran a photograph last month, a photograph that was taken more than twenty years ago, but has been recently drawing renewed attention. A photograph I want YOU to see.

Before showing it to you, a little background information. The photographer, Todd Robertson, graduated from the University of Georgia School of Journalism in 1991, and in September of the following year, attended a Ku Klux Klan rally as a freelance photographer, in hopes of capturing some pictures for the Gainesville Times, a small local newspaper. Sixty-six KKK members showed up in Gainesville for that rally, and they were all outsiders. No locals. And there were approximately three times as many law enforcement officers on hand to keep the peace. Some notable civil rights leaders were also there, and the whole rally and peaceful counter-protest march even got some coverage on the Oprah Winfrey Show. 

                                                        Get the picture?

I think that hate is a feeling that can only exist where there is no understanding.  [Tennessee Williams]


                                                 Then, you're ready to SEE the picture.

                                 

The now-retired trooper, Allen Campbell, says he wasn't even thinking about race relations that day. To him, it was just another day on the job, and he was thinking more about the Labor Day cook-out he was missing. Then, this little fella approached to marvel at his reflection in the riot shield, and the photographer happened to be right there to capture the moment. To capture the expression on Campbell's face. And a moment is all he got... because the mother, seen at the right of the picture, quickly snatched the boy and brought him back to the stroller, where an even younger child sat, also dressed in mini-KKK garb.

Josh, the little boy in the picture, was only three years old at the time. Most people who see this picture want to know what became of him. But Campbell and Robertson, who abandoned photography shortly after taking this picture, don't know.

In light of this photograph's recent resurrection, the Gainesville Times recently interviewed Campbell and Robertson. You can see that short video here

Anybody remember the poem Children Learn What They Live [by Dorothy Law Nolte, 1972]

                        Here it is:

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.
If children live with fear, they learn to be apprehensive.
If children live with pity, they learn to feel sorry for themselves.
If children live with ridicule, they learn to feel shy.
If children live with jealousy, they learn to feel envy.
If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty.
If children live with encouragement, they learn confidence.
If children live with tolerance, they learn patience.
If children live with praise, they learn appreciation.
If children live with acceptance, they learn to love.
If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves.
If children live with recognition, they learn it is good to have a goal.
If children live with sharing, they learn generosity.
If children live with honesty, they learn truthfulness.
If children live with fairness, they learn justice.
If children live with kindness and consideration, they learn respect.
If children live with security, they learn to have faith in themselves and in those about them.
If children live with friendliness, they learn the world is a nice place in which to live.
***


                           So, what happens when a child is taught to hate?

I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.  [Booker T. Washington]

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love.  [St. Francis of Assisi]

Do you remember this song? It isn't a perfect match for this post, but it's insinuated itself into my mind, and insists that it's ... close enough.

So, what do YOU think of that old photograph? What do you see in it? In the expression on the trooper's face?

                                   Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope.  [Martin Luther King, Jr.]