Coolest Dad Ever (for 20 hours):



Couple more Birthdays and we're going to have to
call the fire department!



  David's mother is supposed to take him from the first of June until the first of July, which has always (4 times) sucked because I miss out on Dude's birthday and Father's day every (last 3) year. Dave was really bummed when I told him his mom wasn't coming to get him this year.... about missing out on two plane rides anyway. Right away he told me that the only way to assuage his remorse was to get a Nintendo DS3 for his birthday. Thinking about the extra cash I'd have from not having to buy 3 plane tickets (1 round trip, 1 one-way) and I said I'd look into it. Then I found out that a DS3 was roughly the same price as a one-way ticket to (or from) Kansas City, and started to wonder if I was actually making money on this deal, or not. But all this inevitably gave me the opportunity to become the Coolest Dad in the Known Universe (for roughly 20 hours).

That's right, believe it or not I was, for a time, The Coolest Dad in the Known Universe! Dude's latest (17th) birthday was the beginning of my brief reign as Coolest Dad. It all started the Saturday before with his very first train ride (next blog, sorry), which went over very well, but was long forgotten 2 days later when the Birthday dawned.
   Monday was a working day so I was gone before Dave woke up, but when I came home he was watching movies with Kate (Home Health Aide) who got talked (somehow) into coming back this year, even though she had to know what she was getting into. Dude was sitting almost primly on the couch waiting for me to come around the corner. As soon as he was certain I'd seen how well he was following living room etiquette he ruined the moment by bouncing up and telling me what a good boy he'd been all day. 'He gets good notes!' and 'It's the day for presents!' which kind of gave me a clue as to why he'd been 'such a good boy' all day. Using my ultra-sensitive Dad Powers (yeah, right) I had a hunch that I was feeling the gentle patter of bullshit raining down over me, but Kate informed me that, barring lunch, he had indeed been sitting in that very spot all day, calmly watching movies. He'd even allowed her to pick a few. (a grand concession from the Lord of All Media)


We'd like to thank you Lord, for these presents
we are about to recieve...



   Dave was so eager to show how good he could be he nearly killed us both by trying to help me walk across the room to sign Kate's time sheet. He tangled us together and nearly sent us into her lap, the only time that I've ever seen her frightened. Despite Dude's 'help', Kate managed to make it out the door unscathed, and even promised to see us again the next day. (glutton for punishment, or desperate for money? You make the call) After she was gone, David decided that the front door was a veritable bank vault to a man of my advanced age and decrepitude (is that really a word?) so he took it to himself to shut it, knocking my foot aside as it swept closed. I started wondering how much more evidence of his 'good boy' status I would be subject to, or could actually survive when he, in case (due to my advanced senility) I'd forgotten in the last 2 minutes, informed me 'He's (I've) been a good boy today!' and 'The games are at the GameStop, remember?'. And then, as if afraid to spoil the delicate mood he'd created (?), he immediately started up the steps to his Game Haven.

   What Dave didn't know is that his Dad had absolutely no clue as what to get him for his birthday. I'd gotten used to having the entire month without him around to plan his birthday celebration, and wasn't informed until too late that he wasn't going to his Mom's.  And with him here we'd been running around too much for me to actually plan or get anything. To put further pressure on me, Raine was texting me off and on all day, trying to find out what I was going to do for his Natal Day. She seemed to be under the delusion that because I am his father, that somehow granted me Birthday Omniscience. (poor foolish woman) I mean, can't we just make his Birthday a National Holiday? That way thousands of other people could figure out how to celebrate it, and I wouldn't have to make these important decisions. I couldn't even decide whether or not to have cake. I mean, Dude doesn't like cake, won't eat it, doesn't care about it one way or the other. But it is traditional, a symbol of the occasion and all that. My idea was to bake him a lasagna or a Mac&Cheese and put a candle on it. This idea was frowned on mightily by all the traditionalists in the crowd. Plans of punishments for such transgressions were leaked and I decided to drop the whole thing.

   As Dave was heading upstairs to play his X-box a tiny light of salvation gleamed in my brain. I had gotten him an X-box 360 for Christmas, but it had stopped working a week or so before, relegating him to the 'plain' X-box. In an unusual fit of responsible consumerism I'd actually purchased an extended warranty for it, so it was just waiting for me to find the receipt and take it back. I decided to start with that as more of a Birthday event than a present, and go from there. Basically floundering in a sea of no-ideas I was grasping a string and trying to pretend it was a rope.



Hiding the eyes is easier than wrapping the presents

    When Raine came home (with a cake and candles) we immediately headed to GameStop. Thinking that it would be cruel to leave Raine stuck in a car with Dude while I was in GS on his birthday, and thinking there was no way I was going to survive with him inside the store
 with me, I dropped the two of them off at the Wal-Mart next door. Dave almost ripped Raine's arm off literally dragging her up the ramp and into the store, saying ' Dad's got to go to the GameStop to get 10 games for the Birthday, remember?'. I went into GS, made the exchange with zero problems, and stepped back out without any games!   Knowing that my life could be in danger, I snuck into Wally-World, grabbed the secret present (inspired divinely, or by sheer panic, I'm still not sure), paid for it, deposited it in the trunk, went back into the store, and cooly wandered around to find Raine and Dude.

   I got a couple of strange looks from Raine when I announced that it was time to go home. (I'm certain she thought I'd bailed on the present) But Dude completely trusted that Dad wouldn't let him down on his Day of Days, and immediately started herding the two of us 'old folks' to the front door. I had some trouble convincing him that we wouldn't actually be allowed out the door (birthday or not) if we didn't pause somewhere near the front and pay someone in a blue smock for the few things in the cart. Once we'd paid the nice, but confused (she tried making sense of Dude's ramblings.. never a good idea for the uninitiated) lady at the counter and then we were hustled unceremoniously to the car.

   After many-mini cheeseburgers at Steak and Shake we finally were actually headed home when the Birthday Cake Debate began to rage once again. I repeated my doubts about the efficacy of bringing David something that he wouldn't eat anyway, when Raine underhandedly actually asked Dude what he wanted!  'Yes! Have to have the Birthday Cake for the Birthday to get the presents, remember?' So, due to Dude's slavery to tradition, I was stuck sucking down store bought buttercream icing, and not having any ice cream to hide the staleness of the cake (actually the cake was quite good).

    Dave waited patiently (upstairs) while Raine and I got things ready. When called, he came down to the living room and sat on the floor next to the coffee table, nearly vibrating with repressed excitement. Raine brought the cake in and set it on the table. We sang the traditional Birthday Song, and then Dave said, 'Blow out the candles and get the PRESENTS!' After the Mighty Wind blew all the candles out (3 tries-17 is a lot of candles!) we made him hide his eyes until the first box could be brought in. He nearly went crazy saying 'Xbox 360! It works! It works!' We almost had to tie him down to keep him from bolting up the stairs and trying it out right there.

The coolest present EVER!!

   We finally got him set for his next present, Raine brought it in and put it behind him on the floor. When Dave turned around and looked he was completely speechless for almost exactly 45 seconds, which is almost a conscious record, then he yelled 'COOL!!' and hugged the box. He turned and looked at both of us as if to ask if this was really his, then hugged the box again and tried vainly to defeat the packing tape to get it open. As I stepped over to help him open it up he was practically yelling, 'It's the CHAIR!! He's got the Chair!!' Ah, but not just any chair, it was one of those footless rocker chairs. Which are kind of cool, but this one had SPEAKERS in the headrest that could be hooked directly to his game to give him audio right next to his head, pounding stereo sound directly into his brain. As he caressed the chair box lovingly I heard him murmur, 'Thanks for the party, Dad, and the wonderful presents.' After prying him off the box and getting everything set up I had left one happy Dude playing his games.

I flew on those words all the next day. Repeating occasionally in an awe-struck voice, 'I'm the Coolest Dad in the Known Universe.' Even knowing my reign wouldn't be a long one didn't dim the feeling. I knew that

The Winna' and still Champeen!!

 sooner or later (13 seconds after returning home, probably) I'd have to tell him to turn the sound down and lose my 'Coolest Dad' status, but while I had it I revelled. Hell, I wanted T-shirts and mugs printed up. Moments like that don't come along all that often, and when they do, they're meant to be savored, and I savored that moment even after I got home from work and had to tell David to turn it down. Even the inevitable, 'So this is what a chick feels like.' couldn't cut the glow. Coolest Dad in the Known Universe... Nice title... Good job, if you can get it.





Bad Guys! /Language Barrier:

     The other day, David came home on the bus with something clipped to the collar of his shirt. He was very excited and nearly drove me to my knees running down the bus steps (I'm twice his size). While I was trying to clear the cobwebs and regaining my balance Dave was already bending my ear about being a deputy and trying to show me his collar. Attached to said collar was a gold colored, shield-shaped piece of plastic with the very official sounding, 'Official (see?) Junior Deputy-- Beaver County Sheriff's Office. I said, 'Wow! Junior Deputy, huh?' He replied, loudly and enthusiastically, 'Yes! He's (I'm) the new Deputy!'



'Very cool! Does that mean you're going to arrest somebody?' He kind of shocked me by saying, 'Yes! Gonna get them!'. 'Uhh, who are you going to arrest?' (no one's concience is completely clear) This made him pause for only a second. 'Gonna arrest the BAD GUYS!!' He then ran into the house, turning twice to show me his badge.

   Raine and Dude have had some 'issues' during the past couple of weeks, and Dave doesn't get this excited about much outside of his video games, so I thought I'd give Raine a kick and let her in on it. So I texted her at work to prime her for when she got home. When she arrived and went upstairs to the room David was playing his games as if nothing happened, and when she asked him about it, he couldn't even find the badge! Oh well, I guess he figured the only 'Bad Guy' he knew was the same one that provided the Wendy's and GameStop adventures and would probably have trouble doing that from 'Junior Jail'.



Bad Guys behind bars!



    It always amazes (and annoys) me  when people who ought to know better still expect Dude to act like a 'normal' teen. It's come up a couple of times in the last couple of weeks that David is cursing. Now I realize that some people have a problem with foul language, and for the most part I can respect that, and when it does happen that David has said a word or phrase out in public that isn't necessarily socially acceptable, I try to make certain that the 'offended' person hears me curbing his tendency to take the language to its Anglo-Saxon roots. Those aren't the people that bother me all that much, although I'd think they ought to grow up a bit. Especially the ones who I know don't do a damn thing when their own (much younger) typical children curse at them!

   But, be that as it may, the ones that really make me want to grab my rifle and start looking for a clock tower are the people that ought to know better. It's kind of ridiculous to expect social graces from a kid with ASD. The definition of autism as given by the National Library of Medicine: Autism is a developmental disorder that appears in the first 3 years of life, and affects the brain's normal development of social and communication skills. Social and communication skills. Sounds like understanding 'apropriate language' to me. You'd think that people who deal with atypical kids every day for their job would at least have some idea of what they're dealing with, wouldn't you? But nooooo!
    I like to watch hockey,(don't worry, not as random as it sounds) and currently the Pittsburgh Penguins have a goaltender named Marc-Andre Fleury, who is from Sorel, Quebec, and grew up speaking only French. He didn't start learning English until he was somewhere around High School age. So basically, he learned English from a bunch of hockey players in a locker room. Let's just say that guys in a locker room use words in the course of normal conversation that would make little old ladies in tea rooms fall off their chairs. Now, other than the fact that he grew up in Canada, Fleury, or Flower as he's called, has no disabilities. He just grew up without learning the social stigma attached to these words. So if during an interview on National Television he occasionally blurts out a word that should have been bleeped, it's understandable. He has no idea what these words mean socially. (keep going, it'll make sense in a minute)
    Dave learned to speak from two sources. Only one of which was sometimes censored.  He's not 'talking', he's replaying the game/movie in his head, and it just happens to be coming out of his mouth. Sometimes his words sound relevant, but he doesn't actually understand what he's saying, let alone what you're saying to him most of the time. So if he says, "Man, I bet she gives great Helmet!", he's not speaking to the sexual proclivities of the checkout girl, he's reciting from Spaceballs. And it seems to mean that the woman was being particularly helpful. If, on the other hand, he says, 'Uhhh, I bet this is what a chick feels like!', he's not being a chauvinistic pig, he's just disappointed at being kept from doing whatever it was he wanted to do. And if, in the middle of class, he says, 'I think you need to KILL the son-of-a-bitch!'... okay, that's a new one that he's never used at home, so I'm not sure what it means. But somewhere in the activities of the class he's made a correlation to an event in one of his 3 teen/adult rated games. (remember he's 16 years old, Banjo Kazooie and Fairly Odd-Parents, just aren't going to do it forever)
    The last example was related to me by one of his former aides, Ashley. I'm not absolutely certain of the circumstances, but it seems that during a raucous time in a classroom some discussion was given about the discipline to be meted out to one of the other boys. Dude piped in with his (no doubt helpful, but thankfully ignored) advice, which was greeted by mixed horror and humor by the aides and teachers in the immediate area. Humor ultimately won out, and I wasn't immediately air-flighted in to wash his mouth out with soap. As a matter of fact, I didn't hear anything at all about it until Special Olympics, several weeks later.

This is Mrs Jacobs (I fervently hope I got the name right)
She's one of the 'Good Guys' and a SLJ  'kid wrangler'
I mistakenly left her off the last blog
Bad Blogger! No Donut!!!

    On the complete opposite end of the spectrum is the bus-aide, or, as we like to call her, The Wacko Bus Nazi. (we really need to pare that down a bit) This is a woman who's been the helper on David's bus for most of the last 8 years. During that time she's been through somewhere between 7 and 10 bus drivers. I initially thought this was a mark of her dedication to needs of the special kids, and that there was a large turnover in bus-drivers. I've since learned that only one of those drivers retired and the rest just transferred to different routs to get away from her. She's complained about Dude's language a number of times, without reciting any examples (even by inference), but she always leaves the impression that she's morally offended for some reason.

   (Nixon voice) Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Dude is not a potty-mouth! Curse words mean NOTHING to David. David doesn't 'converse' in any significant way, about anything. Conversation is a process of verbal give and take. Dude has half of that. He's the reverse of the IRS, he's all give and no take.The words coming out of his mouth are put in there by some form of media, and ejected by some sort of random number generator built into his brain by French Canadian hockey players. (See? I told you it would tie together) Expecting an asocial kid to 'fit' into typical society makes about as much sense as me expecting random people off the street to fit into his world.... ain't gonna happen.

Semi-Sporting News:



15 minutes before the supposed starting time



It's once again the last Friday in April. Which means... it's way too late to exchange any of my Birthday presents. It's also the time we look forward to all year. Special Olympics Track and Fiend.. uh.. Field Day. This year, in an effort to negate the last 6 years in a row, I resolved to be there on time. So Dave and I woke up (which he was okay with) got dressed (not so much) and hit the road (even less enthused) almost an hour earlier than normal (for us). We even had time to stop and ready our sinews for battle with nourishment. (Sausage, egg and cheese McGriddles) And in an absolute fit of good luck I actually drove us to the right High School on the first try. We arrived at Western Beaver High (sounds like a large rodent on crack) and knew we were at the right place because this time there were parking attendants. They asked a dizzying array of questions (2) for someone who's McCoffee hadn't kicked in yet, but eventually we were parked very close to the building and proceeded directly to the field. Only to find there was no one in the stands. I was momentarilly confused. After all, there were parking attendants this time. And the event signs where all there And several School Busses dropping buddy-kids off, (who immediately retreated into the gym). Then I rounded the corner of the snack-barn and saw where all the people were. Lining up for coffee, and cocoa and other warm things. The windows were also sheltered from the wind and had an overhang to ward off the rain. So, paranoia appeased, we were at least fairly certain we were in the right place.



The first event.... as soon as anyone shows up

  It had been raining in the Pittsburgh area almost every day for 2 weeks. But Thursday had been almost cloud free, sunny and fairly warm. It was a tease. Friday morning dawned in the sense that it was no longer night, but that was the only clue that there was such a thing as a Sun, and it might still be spinning up there somewhere above the clouds. It was also about 38 degrees and sprinkling rain. At least it would have been called a sprinkle if it wasn't being driven by a 40 mile an hour wind. So naturally, the first time Dave and I are early and in the right place, it's the crappiest day on record and everyone else was late. And I don't mean just a little late, I mean almost the exact amount of time Dude and I have been late to all of these things. There's probably some sort of psychic-karma-payback thing going on there, but I didn't want to examine it too closely. . Of course, considering the sub-Arctic conditions we were lucky the stadium was perched on the top of the only completely tree-free hill in the area. Or in Pittsburgh, as far as I know. That way the wind had untrammelled access to our delicate parts. Dave and I stayed next to the buildings to cut the wind until everyone had assembled in the stands and somehow Mrs. Yarosz found us wandering around again, I swear that woman has Dude-radar, which I'm sure comes in handy considering how closely you have to watch him most of the time. So, we were badged and aknowledged and pretty much frozen, but ready to go.

   I watch a lot of Hockey, and I've played some, and hockey players are generally some of the most superstitious people around seeing 'omens' everywhere. Dave and I showing up early started to look more and more like the first in a series of bad 'sports-omens'. Naturally, just having a crappy day wasn't enough, the PA guy was having problems with his equipment, so all of his early announcements sounded like bad cell-phone calls. The pre-recorded National Anthem ended up sounding like a kid intermittently hitting the FF button on the remote,(or for us older folks, like someone was pounding on the turn-table). And the S-O oath, which everyone is supposed to repeat after the chosen athlete recites it into the microphone, was missing about half its content and kind of wandered off and died somewhere towards the end. I'm almost ready to bet that the Prayer was intoned in Swahili, because the only word anyone understood was 'Amen'. And just after everyone repeated 'Amen' ('cause, that's what you do) the rain and wind caused the Olympic Torch to go out. But, not to be deterred by all of these bad athletic omens, the games where kicked off.
    Dave is now in the 16+ group (I know, it freaks me out too) and that means adjustments. This does change some of the people he competes against, which allowed me to meet a whole new group of kids. Jeremy was still in Dude's group, calling us 'The two Daveys' so there were still some familiar faces, but several new ones or guys we hadn't seen in a while. Mostly, though, it has to do with the order in which he competes in his events, they were completely reversed. This could have gotten me totally unstuck, but this year I actually read all of the notes about S-O that were sent to me. It's amazing what you can learn that way.


   So, this year we dealt with the Soft Ball Toss Lady's 'organization' first, instead of right after lunch, and it seemed to go much smoother that way. Or my expectations of her event have been completely zeroed out, one of the two. Despite the biting wind and spits of rain everyone's attitude was pretty good, although the 3 (male) students assisting the SBT did completely miss when the competition actually started. But even though it was pretty obvious they were there for self-display purposes only, one of the adult assistants brought them around pretty quickly to doing their jobs. Dude placed 4th against some larger students, which I thought was pretty good, considering he was wearing a hoodie underneath a raincoat and with his ridiculously hambone wind-up. Normally, once we finish an event we would typically wander around, checking out the other events, allowing people to see the 'Rock Star' in their midst that is Dude, that sort of thing. Not this year. After a few very brief minutes of walking around Dave's all-weather outdoor father decided he'd had enough fresh air for a while and retreated back to the vehicle (call me a wuss, I don't care).



Dude and Jeremy recieving their accolades



    Most of the time I'm pretty well prepared to divert David during the lulls in whatever we happen to be doing. I either have a book, or an MP3 player to give him something to do while we're waiting around. But I don't usually need that at Special Olympics so I was stuck. The only thing I had in the car for him to look at was a Rand MacNally road atlas. For some strange reason or another that worked. He was fascinated by the different states, trying to pronounce some of the city names and gazing longingly (for some reason) at the map of Upstate New York. I pointed out where my mother was born (Niskayuna) and where Niagara and Lake Champlain were and he seemed pretty impressed. So impressed, in fact that he started bugging me about 'Going to New York' for the next 15 minutes.



   Soon, however it was time to brave the ice and snow (ok, wind and rain) and get back to the competition. It was just after 11:00 when we were once again huddled in the leeward side of a U-Haul truck when the spitting rain turned to actual rain. But the wind didn't change. And until then we just thought we knew what miserable was. There were 4 student-buddies huddled together bent over a table, umbrella turned to the wind speaking longingly and loudly about the hot showers they'd be taking when they got home. I was seriously thinking about ditching the whole thing when the PA guy got on and made the announcements that: The busses for the (obviously) wussie Brighton School had arrived and were ready for boarding. The events would attempt to continue, but that any parent that took their child home should inform the teacher before leaving, and that there would be a summit at noon at the announcer's tent. I assumed to decide whether to continue or cancel the rest of the events.



Ok, all you guys need to be on the line



   Just moments after this announcement was made a section of clouds came overhead and revealed that they were actually thin enough to expose that Sun-thing. The rain stopped, the sky turned blue-ish and the temperature raised about 10 degrees. It was either a reward for correct thinking, a break to give everyone enough hope to continue on, or yet another weather-tease. Dave decided during this time that if he were a good boy I'd have to take him to New York. I told him that he'd have to be the goodest boy on record, and also slip me the winning numbers to the Powerball.

   In any case it was time for the 50 meter run. Last year David had some interesting interpretation of sportsmanship during his run, arm-barring his next closest opponent to finish first. So I was kind of curious as to what he would do this year.



And they say 'cheaters never prosper'



   As they lined up to start the race, Dave looked down the row to make sure that everyone was correctly behind the line. He wasn't helping the starters or anything, it turned out he was checking so that he could cheat more easily. As the starter raised her hand to start the race Dude started shuffling forward, slowly and carefully. By the time the race was officially started he was about 3 feet in front of everyone else. He was so caught up in gaining the advantage that when the 'Go' was sounded it startled him into pausing and losing it, but he took off like a rocket. He hardly needed the extra help. Halfway through the race he was 15 or so feet ahead with an 'I'm such a good cheater' grin on his face. And by the end of the race he'd smoked the other guys by 20 or so feet and, once again ran around after the finish line looking for his medal. Once the

At least one of these 'Wranglers' is named Bob

but I have no idea which one.

gold was adorning the correct chest it was time to head over to the Standing Long Jump and the the two 'Kid Wranglers', who were back in charge of organizing things at the SLJ.

   I have to say that there was one benefit to the inclement weather. There was no dilly-dallying about any of the events. The 'buddies' were hustling the kids around the field and the events people were running the kids through like cattle at an auction. I'm almost certain that's the reason, and not David's 'Superstar' status, that as soon as we showed up to the SLJ 15 minutes early this year, instead of 45 minutes late like last year, that Jenny (I'm almost certain that's her name) and Ashley (who have both had Dave in their classrooms) immediately went over to the Wranglers and told them Dave was there for his heat. The guys instantly went through their paperwork looking for his name, but looked puzzled when they couldn't find it until I told them we were actually early this year. But Dude's heat was the first one they ran. Maybe he's a 'Superstar' after all?



Ashley's 'Put me in the Blog' pose



    While we were waiting for the Jumping to commence the adults all kind of gathered around and started the babbling that just wasn't pleasant (or possible) during the colder, rainier part of the day. I had my camera out, snapping a few random shots, when Ashley kind of dashed in front of me and jokingly posed and demanding, 'Take my picture and Post it in the Blog!' I laughed and facetiously protested, 'Again?' Then, not even noticing that I'd already taken her picture, she started telling me about how she loved reading the Blog, and she even made her mother read it! I was too flattered for words (Yeah, I know, who'd a thunk it?). Perhaps Dude isn't the only Superstar in the family? Then I realized that the Blog is about Dude, so basically I'm just writing about a Superstar....



And he sticks the landing!



  Dave was all business about the 50 meter run, but seems to take the other two events he does a little less seriously. He has these ridiculously ham-bone wind ups for each event that they're almost events in themselves. For the SLJ he squats very low, with his arms thrust out behind him. Then he comes up on his toes and thrusts his arms out to the side, then he sort of bounces on his toes for a second, swinging his arms back and forth underhanded. Then starts the whole thing over again. He does this two or three times (or until I tell him to quit fooling around) then he finally jumps, covering a distance of about 3-4 feet. If style points were awarded he'd even get a '10' from the Russian judge. All of that goofing around must have been effective, though. Because he took 1st place. After receiving the righteous acclaim of the victorious Dude decided it was time to get Wendy's, go home and get ready for our New York trip. I agreed with the home and lunch part of the equation, but since I hadn't as of yet been given the Powerball numbers the New York thing would have to wait. So now the medals are on the shelf (along with any Empire State plans) waiting for next year's crop to join them. Dude is, I think, waiting for Nike to call with a sponsorship offer, and Raine has come up with a clever idea to get out of taking David to New York. We just need to find someone's address in NY, a box big enough to fit Dude in, and a LOT of stamps....

 





Happy Birthday to.. Someone:

Oh yeah, that one's going in the album.
Rainepic

It will come as no surprise to some (if not all) who know me that I'm more than a little strange. I don't mean like doing perverted things to mannequins in the basement strange, just not your typical mid-40's, blue collar, Midwestern.... whatever. And somehow, without being told, children know. For one thing, little kids stare at me.  Despite the fact that I'm half again as wide as most men, have long-wild hair and look as though I actually punch cows for a living and eat small children without ketchup, almost none of them are ever frightened of me. Whenever I'm in sight, nearly any child between the ages of 4mo to 4 years gazes at me with a kind of fascinated awe. If I give them a 'fierce' expression they just giggle and act shy. If I actually smile or wave to them they grin and wave back. They're hardly ever nervous around me. (Their parents on the other hand...) I'm not sure what any of this means, but I've always been told that children see with an untrammelled eye, without prejudice or preconception. So I just have one question. What the hell are these kids seeing?

    A little off-subject (No! I'm shocked!) I come from a large family. No, check that, I come from a FRICKEN LARGE family. My mother's parents had 46 grandchildren when they died, and I'm not sure how many after that, but being the oldest I have a number of first cousins that are actually younger than my own kids. On meeting one of the youngest for the first time I was introduced to her as 'Little Dave' just after she had been introduced to my father, 'Big Dave' who was two inches shorter, quite a bit narrower and 40 pounds lighter at the time. The four year old looked unflinchingly at me, looked incredulously at her mother and said, 'I don't think so!' Then looked back at me and grinned, completely unafraid. Her mother, seemingly afraid of the destruction I could wreak if I were to suddenly run amok, whisked her off with a fearful expression. Perhaps kids do see things differently than their parents. Maybe they do see the 'oddness' beyond the physicality. Dude has the opposite problem. Children tend to look at him like he's weird, but adults all seem to love him on sight.

    And I'll admit I'm odd. Case in point: This year for my birthday I was given the option of going where-ever I could drive us to (I've been known to drive 900 miles at a stretch) and do there whatever I pleased. I heard from my co-workers all of the things I should do, ie: Go to a bar, fishing, mountain biking, sports center, et al, and what did I chose? I decided to go to the Phipps Conservatory in Oakland PA and look at and take pictures of the flowers. I believe I was the only male in my age bracket that was there voluntarily. Dude, although not in my age bracket, certainly wasn't there voluntarily. 

Is this kid flipping me off?



It was raining, we were miles away from his games, looking at boring plants, and he wasn't even certain that he should get excited about any birthday that didn't include presents for him anyway. But since we tricked him into the car, and stubbornly refused to give him keys or bus-fare, he was stuck looking at the flowers.

  Most of the time when we're out roaming David can find something to engage himself with. No matter how boring he finds it there is always something he can do or see to divert himself while he waits for 'those people with the car' to wise up and get him back to his games. 

It wasn't that he was behaving badly or anything, you could just tell that he was bored about 14 seconds after the elevator ride to the second floor. Dave has always had an OCD thing about doors, but most of the time it's not very evident. He'll just stand there and watch them close. When he gets excited he fixates on the door and starts flapping his hands and making hooting noises. (This might get us some strange looks occasionally, but I hardly notice anymore.) If you can't divert him somehow he'll do this as long as the door keeps moving. And when he's bored there's no diverting him. The Phipps has both indoor and outdoor gardens and one hell of a lot of doors. So Dude became kind of an OCD/ASD doorman for people that didn't want to go out into the rain but didn't know what to say to the nice Autistic kid who opened the door they were just trying to

Dude: The door is open! This is the way out!
Raine: Get back in here!

 look through while saying politely, 'There you go sir, this way out!' The women really thought this was strange. There were some who tried to allow him to go through the door first, but Dave would not be out-polited by anyone. He'd just stand his ground and say, 'The doors are open. You may now exit the building.' I'm sure a couple of the few that walked out did so because they didn't know what else to do. 

   Throughout the whole visit, I'm taking Dude aside, talking to him, calming him down, or speaking firmly to him in a low voice, trying to keep him as contained as possible without visibly threatening his life. We've all seen parents try to speak emphatically but unobtrusively to their children and failing miserably. (Actually most of them end up looking like deranged mimes.) Obviously I was less than successful as I started to get more looks than he did. 'Look honey, the large biker/hippy photographer is threatening to kill the skinny disabled boy!' ' Yes, dear. Now let's go look at the hydrangeas before he starts looking for more victims.'  Which only proved how silly they were... there were no hydrangeas displayed at the Conservatory. At times it seemed that the only one not fearing for my son's life was my son.

  Eventually his horticultural incarceration came to an end and we climbed into the 6 and headed for home. We had to pass by downtown along the river and were just getting onto the Interstate to do so when David starts clamoring to go into Downtown Pittsburgh.  I have no idea why he loves downtown so much, maybe it's the large buildings, or possibly it's the increased chance that his father will get mugged... could go either way. What I do know is that Raine and I told him that under no circumstances were we going into Downtown Pittsburgh on a Saturday afternoon. There were a few moments of silence when David started reciting different borough's around Downtown. Shadyside, North Shore, Plum, 5 or 6 others, and then started reciting local street and highway directions from each one into Downtown. Raine and I were baffled. He just went on, and on, like we just didn't know how to get into Pittsburgh while we were passing directly between it and the river. When he started commenting on bridge construction and detours we realized he was repeating the radio traffic report that he hears on the bus every morning. (he insists on having the radio on.) He continued to give us updated traffic reports until we went through the Ft Pitt Tunnel and it was obvious we were going home. For a kid who doesn't seem to pay attention to anything, with a father prone to wander just to see if it's possible for him to get lost, he knows exactly the moment when we head for home from wherever we happen to be. Once the tunnel was traversed the traffic report ceased and we returned to our regularly scheduled programming of video game and movie quotes. It wasn't 'blessed silence', but it was comforting in its own way to have Dude back in his groove.

On the Trail.... ish:



Dad's pic of Dude...  



While Dude takes this of Dad



 Occasionally I can talk (blackmail/force) Raine and Dude to come with me when I wander about Western Pa. The other day was one of those times, and seemed tailor made for both of them. There is a very small State Park in northern W Virginia called Tomlinson Run. Around here a 'run' is a small stream, or what we from Kansas would call a creek. Why these people can't just use regular English, I have no idea.  Well, after having driven past the road to it several hundred times over the years, I finally decided that a scouting expedition needed to be mounted. Since this mainly involved driving around, and in hopes that this would count as a visit when I wanted to return and walk the trails (But Dear.... we've already been there!) Raine and Dude were both happy (more or less) to come along.

  The park itself is pretty nice. It's kind of in the middle of nowhere, nothing but small villages for miles around. It's a nice blend of rural community park and out-door areas. They have a small water park and a mini-golf alongside camping, picnic, and wilderness trails. There are also an inordinate amount of trout fisherman working the stream and lake banks for 40 degree weather. (although I did notice that no one tried wading) After driving around the park we stopped to (briefly) get out and check the creek at the entrance to a boy scout campground. The pipe-gate was locked and a small-ish tree had fallen down on the log-barriers on the one side. This offended Dude for some reason, so nothing would do until he had pushed the tree off the barrier. Raine or I would have helped except we were too busy taking photos of this monumental task. After he completed his 'Labor of Hurcules' we  walked down to the creek. Despite the fact that it was only in the mid-40's with a light wind, I began to hear complaints about 'arctic conditions', several mentions of 'freezing to death', and 'finding our frozen bodies in the Spring' (despite the fact that the car and several fishermen were in plain view the entire time). David laboriously climbed over the pipe-gate to get to the car, instead of walking around. I thought it was cute, so I asked him to do it again for a picture. He ducked under the gate to the camp-side, then crawled over it again to get to the car-side. There is a certain order to Dudeworld, to get in you go under, to get out you go over, that's just the way things are done.



Sun and Shadows



    A couple of weeks later I purchased a new camera, that took me a week to talk myself into buying.  OK, Some boring (to some) camera stuff: I learned to take and print pictures in school on a 35mm Pentax K1000, and was given the run of the photo dept and exclusive access to the expensive lenses. I loved it, but once I had to start buying my own camera, film, developer et al, I decided it was a hobby best left on the shelf. When I moved to Pittsburgh Raine had a nice 35mm Minolta XGM rig with several nice lenses (which I added to) but once again, film and developing were too expensive for the amount of pictures I wanted to take. Enter the digital age and the 6.5 Mp Kodak Easyshare Z650. Finally I could take as many pictures as I wanted and all it cost me were batteries (rechargeable) and the time to download. Then the battle of the megapixels. I upgraded to a 12.1 Mp Nikon Coolpix 110, a camera I loved at once. But still missing some of the flexability of an SLR, I recently upgraded to a 14.2 Mp Nikon 3100 DSLR. I immediately wanted to go and take enough pictures to impress a Japanese tourist at Disneyworld. Since it was a GameStop weekend I figured it wouldn't be too difficult to get Dude to come along with me. Actually on GS weekend he has to be pried off me with the jaws of life. So little encouragement was needed to get him to accompany me back to Tomlinson Run Park.





Bright Water



   The first trip to TR Park Raine and I had discussed giving David the Kodak to see what he would do with it. Given the opportunity Dude will hang over my shoulder or lean against my arm to watch the screen to see what I am doing.  She says it was my idea, but I'm still pretty sure it was hers. I figured the pictures didn't matter, his fascination with technology would give him something to do. At any rate when Dude and I got to the park I uncased the smaller camera, showed him the power switch, lens cover and shutter button, briefly mentioned how to focus ( He was so wrapped up in the camera I'm not sure he heard me) and off we went. Every time I stopped to take a few shots David solemnly removed the lens cover, turned on the camera, pointed it around, and was evidently taking pictures. I'd take my shots, then wait for him. He'd move the camera around, press the shutter then say, ' That's an A+ picture!', then he'd very carefully shut the flash, turn off the camera and replace the lens cover, and we'd move off to the next scenic area. When we'd been out of the car for a while (it was a chilly morning) the 'A+ pictures' turned into 'Yep, that's the shot. We've got to get these pictures back to the Bugle!' I took this as an indication that he wanted to go back to the car (and then to GameStop) and not that he'd actually managed to get a shot of Spiderman. The whole trip I never told David what to shoot, or how to do anything, I turned him loose with the camera, and he was on his own.

   After an hour or so, Dude suddenly decided he was a pro and grabbed the strap (around my neck at the time) of my brand-new Nikon DSLR, saying, ' Guess I need a new camera!!' as he tried to snatch it without lifting it over my head. Needless to say, that wasn't happening. I said, 'You may need a new camera, but it ain't this one!' I mean, I love my son, but he's not getting my brand-new camera in the woods. What if he decides to become some sort of feral hermit photographer? He's so skinny he could duck behind a sapling and I couldn't find him. Then were would I be? Hunting for my camer... uh.. I mean kid, out in the woods with no Mac and Cheese to lure him in.



Shadows of Dudes



   When we finally got home (after getting Kung-Fu Panda at GS) I told Raine about our adventure (?) and she immediately wanted to see Dude's pics. He had actually taken 47 pictures and the easiest thing to notice that only one of them was blurry. That's better than I managed my first two trips with that very camera. Looking closer we noticed something we really didn't expect. All of his pictures had a definite subject/theme,  they were all framed well and used the natural light to good advantage. You could see that none of them were random. Raine almost exploded with pride, and I wasn't far behind her. We scrolled through his pics with jaws dragging the floor.  I mean, I was there, seeing the same things but it was just amazing to view that part of the world through Dude's eyes.

  BTW All of the pics in this post (other than the one with him in it) are a sample of the very pictures I was talking about. I have to agree with David, these are A+ pictures. I wonder what he'll do once I show him how to use the zoom? Then again, the way he's going I probably don't have to show him.



Raine Cave:

Rainepic: Big Dude hiding..
Did you ever see a hound dog try to hid behind a cat?



I'd like to return (briefly) to those thrilling days of yesteryear. One of the most often asked questions when people from da 'Burgh find out I'm from Kansas is, 'How did you end up here?'. It's also, strangely enough, the most popular question from people who knew me before I moved to Pittsburgh. I'm not entirely certain of the reasons for this. It could be that people are curious as to how I ended up a thousand miles away from my home in an area where I have no family or history. It could also be that they're shocked that I was allowed to leave my normally supervised area of the country, or that I was allowed to move into the area without the news agencies covering it like any other natural disaster. No matter what the reason my answer to the question is normally: 'There are only 2 reasons a man moves such a distance.... and I'm not making a whole lot of money.'. The inference being (of course) that a woman is the cause. Also, as a side-benefit, if they're looking for a scapegoat, I've set the blame squarely on Raine's shoulders. (It was her! She snuck me in!)

    Raine and I had been typing at each other and talking for more than a year before her curiosity overcame her natural caution and she decided that she had to make certain that I wasn't a construct of some fiendish computer's imagination so she invited me to visit. Strangely enough, I wasn't immediately escorted back to the border, and even stranger I was even encouraged to return. After several such trips I decided that it was time for the ultimate test.... The Dude-visit. I picked the long Easter weekend for the visit to give her some extra Dude-time, basically so she couldn't say later that she hadn't been adequately warned.


Rainepic:
Almost makes me look noble or something



 To say that I was nervous on several levels is an understatement comparable to 'I dropped the nuclear device, and it went boom'. There were many things to furrow my brow: I was still pretty new to the whole single parent thing. With Dave being 6 years old there were still a lot of things I didn't have any experience with. There was Dude's first plane trip. (he loved it) Then there was dealing with David in 3 crowded airports. (huge blood pressure spike, but no real problem). Then the biggie: How does a woman that you really like who's never dealt with an atypical kid deal with the running dialogue that is my youngest son?.

  Once again oddly enough (most things

around Dude and I are odd, so you'd think I'd be used to it by now)after some initial uncertainty she adjusted quite well and incredibly quickly. There's a minority opinion (Raine) that her meeting me was akin to jumping into freezing water, and after that she became kind of numb to any other Hoffman-shock. The conflict that I was so worried about almost never happened. The 'almost' kind of set the tone for our triple interaction from that point on.

   You see it wasn't David's constant talking, or his bulldozer-like attitude about obstacles, or even his tendency, at the time, to wander out of the house to knock at random doors in the neighborhood. All of which she handled with commendable aplomb and great patience. The conflict, it seems, was over window coverings. Yes, that's right, window coverings. Raine has been subject to migraines for quite some time so she tends to think that the proper use for windows is as a backdrop for curtains. The windows in our house all have mini-blinds or shades with curtains covering them. Many of the curtains are made of heavy fabric that would have saved countless English lives during the Blitz in WWII. This gives our house a warm, cave-like atmosphere that definitely has the Raine Seal of Approval.


Dadpic: You can tell by the look in his eyes...



  The very first morning after our arrival in Southwestern PA I was sitting in the front room, my mind still slightly unsettled as to how everything was going to work out, when I witnessed a bizarre ritual. While Raine was in the bathroom upstairs David walked down the stairs, climbed up on the couch, pushed back the curtains, and opened the blinds and the two windows behind them. He proceeded from there to open every window set on the first floor, curtains, blinds, and windows, letting in light and fresh air. I was slightly puzzled, but thought it was kind of cute, and watched him with a slight smile. As he finished in the kitchen I realized that Raine had finished earlier and had gone into the bedrooms before coming downstairs. She and Dave passed each other on the landing, each barely even noticing the other. I then watched Raine go from room to room, muttering, closing all the windows, blinds and curtains that my son had worked so hard to open. I quickly muted the TV, fairly certain what I'd hear from the second floor when I did. Yep, you guessed it. The sounds of my progeny reversing what Raine had done to reverse what he had done to the second floor portals. Feeling something like a comedic anthropologist, I quickly un-muted the television so as not to disturb the results of the experiment that was playing out before me.

   Raine had paused to do something else while securing the house from the Deadly Rays, which gave David all the time he needed to complete his mission and return to the ground floor, passing Raine in the dining/computer room (each, once again, nearly oblivious to the other). And as she was asking me if I were the evil culprit breaching black-out conditions, he was once again allowing light and air into the Sacred Dark Spaces. I informed Raine that I hadn't stirred from my current position since before she had gone upstairs so she would have to look elsewhere for the Dastardly Fiend. Max Sennet, Charlie Chaplin, and the Three Stooges combined couldn't have worked better timing into what happened next. As Raine turned to her left to go back into the kitchen, Dave walked quietly behind and to her right, perfectly syncronizing his pass with her spin, and as she made her pre-occupied way to the back of the house he once again opened the three windows in the front room and went back up the steps. She must have been pre-occupied, because she didn't notice that the windows had been opened until she started back into the living room. The really funny thing was that she had been muttering to herself, while closing the windows, about them being opened, and he was muttering (quietly) to himself, while opening the windows, about them being closed. I, in the meantime, was sitting innocently (sort of) on the couch trying not to explode with laughter and destroy the whole event.



Rainepic: Two Dudes walking

    Raine came back into the room and using her psychic-female abilities deduced that I was somehow involved in the plot to uncover her cave. Actually most men are pretty transparent when they think something's funny. I initially tried for total denial but when cornered I admitted that I was sort of the cause of her exposure to fresh air and light. Or, at least, that I'd brough the cause with me, and caused him in the first place. She then tromped up the stairs to have a little talk with my heir-apperent about blackout rules and who actually runs the roost. And, as I said, that pretty much set the tone for our time together.  When Dave does something that tweaks Raine, she mutters about it a bit, looks over at me and decides I'll be no help at all, goes and talks to him about it, and I pretty much sit on the couch and laugh.
   Don't get the wrong idea. Raine stepped into the Dude-mom thing like she was the missing part to our machine, as naturally as if she was biologically activated. He calls her 'Mom' and her mother, 'Grandma' and it's tough to remember sometimes that they're not related to him by birth.

PS: 'Rainepic's are obviously pictures taken by Raine... mostly without my permission. She didn't seem to think she needed it for some reason.

That Doesn't Mean I Don't Have it Tough:

They (whoever 'They' are) always say 'Misery loves company'. I personally think that's total horseshit. Think about it. When you're down in the dumps, kick-the-cat miserable to the point were even Lurch seems happy and people on Prozac piss you off by flaunting their cheerfulness, what is it you actually want around you? Other than the occasional perky person that you're allowed to strangle, that is. You don't want people who're just as miserable as you are. What's worse than one person bitching about how screwed-up life is? Add one more, and all you'll get is a pissing contest about how one of them is in a deeper cesspool than the other one. And how much fun does that sound like boys and girls?

No, when you feel the heavy blanket of doom settle around your shoulders what you don't want is someone who's life is just a more fucked-up version of yours. Oh, I guess it's morally uplifting if they're soldiering through or they've pulled themselves out of the mud when they've found themselves in a hole just a little deeper than the one you appear to be in with a slightly larger truckload of manure just backing up to start dumping on them. Unless you actually are a self-centered moron who just likes watching that sort of thing, you naturally want to reach out and help in some fashion. But sometimes things are so extreme you have no idea where to even start, and saying 'I sympathise' sounds (and feels) really really trite. 

I want it stated for the record (sorta) that I didn't start this blog to air my trials and tribulations dealing with raising an autistic child. It was originally (and for the most part still is) a way for family and friends to hear stories about and see pictures of Dude without my actually having to do anything but babble via my keyboard. This is my cheapscate way of getting out of thousands of dollars in travel expenses as they all live many, many miles away from me. (not sure if it's their choice or mine)

 But recently I started doing something I've never done before. I started looking at other blogs written by parents of special needs kids. I was researching statistics on 'single parents of handicapped children' for something else I was writing, then got curious and Googled 'Single Dad handicapped child statistics' and in and among the links for actual statistics was 'Single Dad-Disabled Daughter'. I read several of his posts and kept saying to myself, 'Man, this guy's got it tough!.' He has two kids, the first two ever diagnosed with a condition that makes autism sound like a summer cold. His daughter lives with him and his wife (divorced) has his son in another state and living in a 'care facility'. (wonder if she's a redhead)  From where I'm standing this guy's 'hole' is the size of the Kennicot Copper Mine and they've got the 8th Air Force making manure-bombing runs with B52's. And he seems to be handling it all with drive and humor and a lot less bitterness than I could manage. I'd be grabbing my gun and looking for a clock tower somewhere. This guy is way outta my league. It's like Mother Theresa to a lapsed Catholic, I just can't relate. (the analogy is also true in and of itself).

I looked at several blogs on his Blog-roll, and naturally enough they were mostly by parents of severely handicapped children. All of which had much higher licenses to whine than I do. I actually started to become offended, like their tribulations in some way negated mine. In a fit of total psychosis I even snarled at the monitor, 'Just because your kid is screwed up, doesn't mean mine isn't.' What I actually said was even more ridiculous but that's the gist of it. Then it kind of hit me. I'm almost certain that there's a group of 'typical' parents out there that feel the same way when looking at the troubles I, and other parents like me, have with our children. It's got to be a natural, if rediculous, reaction to imagine that someone else's trials and tribulations make your complaints sound rather silly.

   Let me state my humble, yet all knowing opinion: Raising any child is tough. It's the hardest, most thankless job ever invented. As a parent you have no idea if what you're doing is even the right thing to do, or the right time to do it. You'll probably never see, or understand, the effects of what you're doing and even then you'll never be sure. It's always easier to figure out where other people are doing it 'wrong', and all those other nosy people don't know what the hell they're talking about with their 'critisisms'. Your parents had it much easier than you do, and your children will never be as apreciative of their parents as you are of yours.

 

   It's like Dante's Circles of Parental Hell, people. Or being banished to Cleveland. We're all in 'hell' it's just a matter of degree. Yes, I have it tougher than a lot of parents. No, that doesn't mean they don't have it hard. And: No, it doesn't mean that there aren't people out there that look at what I do and go, 'Pththh! Please! I'd take your life in a heartbeat!'

   If I had a point it would go something like that, anyway.