O.J. Simpson.....still not a Jew

When the holiday season rolls around, Sarah insists on Christmas CDs in the car. Nothing wrong with that, not with Bruce Springsteen's Santa Claus is Coming to Town and Merry Christmas, Baby available; along with Adam Sandler's Chanukah Song (from which the title of this blog posting was taken) on a disc made by a heathen friend of mine. So with Nat King Cole as background music, Sarah and I set off to make the holidays special for little guy.


Since Chanukah came early this year, Elijah got a head start on the presents and the "gelt" (chocolate coins, for those like O.J.). On the first night, Elijah got a new Tramp figurine (to replace the one he broke years ago) to go with his Lady. He was so happy he carried it with him for all eight nights (and beyond). He also got more markers, a goofball (don't even ask) and from our friend Bunni (whom I always refer to as his surrogate Grandma), he got Nutcracker figurines, which along with Lady and Tramp made their way from room to room.

My gift from Elijah was his continuing progress (a big-shout out to his therapists and school!) and his ability to recite the Hebrew prayer as we lit the candles on the menorah. Considering the fact that probably no one else in my family can do that, I was very pleased.




With the arrival of Christmas and a record snowstorm on the same day, inside was where we spent most of the day. (Sarah and Elijah in their Christmas pajamas, Daddy in sweats.) There was a quick foray into the backyard to play in the snow (wind chills in the minus territory brought me in before the little guy; Sarah never even made it to the door).




Santa was good to Elijah. He got a beloved basketball goal (indoor variety), on which he has been practicing his dribble drive to the hoop. An indoor trampoline, which has yet to be assembled. (According to the instructions, assembly takes "three strong adults," which we are two short of in the house, although Sarah's bad knee gives her an excuse.) More markers, a couple of yo-yos, some games that he has played and enjoyed with his therapists in the past and an overhead projector that allows Elijah to trace more than 200 images and animals. Of course, this list doesn't include the extremely generous contributions of family members toward Elijah's camp fund, a gift he is not aware of now but will enjoy a great deal next year. (We have been assured the camp is on track again for next summer!)

And just today Aunt Julie and Uncle George came by and not only brought Elijah his first video game play station, but also aided in assembling the trampoline, which put a huge smile on the little guy's face

So as the holiday weekend winds down and I go out to shovel the driveway so Sarah can get to work (I don't have to get out in this mess). I have to say it was truly "the most wonderful time of the year."

Except for this ....

Two Birds in the Hand.....

Using his artistic ability to interpret everyday objects is one of Elijah's many charms. When the moment moves him , he will create a picture based on some small phrase or object that most others wouldn't even take note of. Such an event occurred the other night when he climbed up on the bookcase in our den and got off the shelf two brass bird statues that have done nothing but collect dust for at least 10 years.

His fascination with these birds is not new. On numerous occasions over the past few years, he has insisted that "Daddy get the gold birds for Elijah" so he can place them in various areas around the house. Yesterday, however, when the request came, it was immediately followed by another query asking for markers and paper.

What follows is Elijah's Men as Birds masterpiece:

Why Kung Fu Panda is no Winnie the Pooh

I will admit that I enjoy watching movies more than reading. I also will fess up to enjoying the films To Kill a Mockingbird and The Godfather more than the novels, although in both cases it was incredible performances that made it so. I can also state, I think without too much debate, that perhaps the worst film adaptation of a great book was Bonfire of the Vanities, which turned one of the lead characters, an old Yiddish judge, into Morgan Freeman (?!) thus destroying one of the major subplots.


So I was somewhat hesitant when I took Elijah to go see the film version of Where the Wild Things Are, a classic children's book that consists of maybe 100 words, yet was over an hour and a half long as a movie. We had already experienced Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, which besides the title, shared little with the book we read together on many nights. My fears about the Maurice Sendak classic turned out to be well founded. Although Elijah seemed to enjoy the movie (though restlessness was evident on occasion) the charm of the book was completely lost in the midst of what I would call a movie not about childhood escape but about monster angst.

As draining as watching the tortured souls of the "Wild Things" was (the anguish of new friends, old relationships and anger management were constant topics for discussion), it was a joy compared to the "live action" versions of the Dr. Seuss classics How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat in the Hat. Whoever was responsible for those travesties needs to be locked in a room for a weekend and be forced to view them over and over again.

Since Elijah's arrival, I have watched enough cartoons and kids movies to revisit my childhood many times over (OK, I'll admit I owned a lot of those films already) and unlike most of today's stuff, it holds up pretty well. Even after viewing the cartoon Grinch numerous times, both Elijah and I can still enjoy it a great deal, which is not the case with just a repeat viewing of Fly Me to the Moon (even with the 3-D). The Disney "Classics," the original Horton Hears a Who cartoon, and the Peanuts Trilogy (Charlie Brown Christmas, Thanksgiving and Great Pumpkin) show what a child's cartoon film should be about....entertaining fun, memorable music and no more than 80 minutes long.

California.... There We Went

First off I have to apologize to any blog purists who may peruse this site. I am probably violating every rule of blog etiquette by posting out of chronological order, as my previous entry concerned Halloween and our trip out west was the prior week. If everybody is okay with that...let's head for L.A.

Airplane travel with Elijah, though challenging at times, had been made much easier by markers, loads of paper and a portable DVD player (pictured above) loaded with a supply of his favorite films. In fact, concern about his behavior actually has made flying more enjoyable for me as I don't have time for my usual airplane neuroses to kick in. So after a non-eventual flight (unless one considers the reshaping of the United States important - check out the previous post on that subject) we arrived at LAX to begin our real trek, the drive to the Valley.

We all remember those math questions from our school days that started, "If a train leaves from the station at 1:00 traveling at 80 miles per hour and a car leaving from an opposite direction travels at 60 miles per hour, they will meet where?" but on this last trip I discovered a new variation on this theme. If a plane leaves Kansas City going to LAX and at the same time a family in a rental car leaves LAX for the San Fernando Valley, who will arrive at their destination first? The answer: Although the flight was the quicker trip, the time differential was less than 20 minutes.

Okay, now that I got my traffic gripe out of the way, I'd have to say that this was one of our best trips back home. We stayed with my sister and her husband, whose generosity knew no bounds. Our base camp for the trip was their guest house (or, as Elijah called it, "the little house at Aunt Kathy's") which not only afforded us privacy and a pool for little guy to jump into, but also relieved us from the stress of us worrying about (very) early morning risings and the effect on our hosts. We spent lots of time with family and kept our driving to a minimal amount (in Los Angeles terms). And the weather was incredible...shorts everyday and a comfortable beach day in LATE OCTOBER!

Elijah battled the waves to a draw but vowed to return and beat them back from the shore at our next beach visit.

As with any trip with a child, there were a couple of meltdowns (one involving a hysterical Elijah using a public restroom had me fearful of authorities busting into our stall and taking me away in cuffs) but as he always does, our little guy adapted to his surroundings and had a good time. He got to see Grandma and Grandpa (whom he now recognizes) again, as well as Uncles Ken and Marv and Aunt Kathy. He also got to visit "Miss Judy's house," meet cousins and dance one more time with Doctor Branch, a client of mine who just turned 101.

He also got to leave his mark as an artist, as a blue IHOP sign and various color drawings he created were left up on walls until our departure (note to Aunt Kathy and Miss Judy, I won't tell Elijah if you want to take them down now). As I said before, it was a great trip and just one more step on Elijah's path of life.

To Infinity......and Beyond

As Halloween approached this year, we were faced with a problem -- a child who did not want to be in costume or go trick-or-treating. The idea of dressing Elijah as a chimney sweep (never high on Sarah's list) had fallen off the radar as the Little Guy (finally) tired of "Mary Poppins." Since he was constantly going around the house dancing and singing "If I Only Had a Brain" from the the Wizard of Oz, I thought dressing up as the Scarecrow would interest Elijah, but that idea was also met with indifference. It got so bad that Sarah asked the teacher at Elijah's school if there was a way to opt out of class on the Friday before Halloween, as everybody was supposed to be costume for a school parade.

I've heard of parents asking that their children be excused from, say, sex education classes, but Halloween parties and parades? That's a new one! Then I got an idea. On the plane ride out to Los Angeles and numerous times while we were there, Elijah had asked to watch "Toy Story." He was so enamored of the film that I had to ask him, "Would you like to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween?" Just like in a Hail Mary pass at the end of a game, we connected, with a resounding "YES!" from the Little Guy. So two days before the big day, we sojourned to a costume store and got one of the last Buzz Lightyear costumes available.

To say Elijah got into the holiday spirit would be a minor understatement. He couldn't wait to put on his costume and reap the rewards. There was a show-and-tell scheduled for his class the same day as the parade and he eagerly rehearsed his speech using his "Woody" doll, but later wanted it amended to include Jessie (another character from the film). Also, according to Sarah, he was quite proud when some other kids pointed out how "cool" his costume was.

But that was a controlled environment as opposed to the dog-eat-dog world of neighborhood trick-or-treating, but my fears were unfounded. I am happy to report that an exercise that usually took all of twenty minutes and included maybe a half dozen houses, was a two hour excursion that took in most of our immediate neighborhood. Proudly announcing "My name is Buzz Lightyear and I come in peace" or Buzz's catchphrase (the title of this blog), the little guy happily rang doorbells and collected candy.

Of course there were a couple of minor faux pas. One was Elijah's insistence of not just standing on the porch of a house but walking right in and taking a look around. Another was his lack of understanding that the bowl of candy being offered was not just for him exclusively, and that he wasn't suppose to grab a handful at every house. But outside of that he was a gleeful camper collecting Hershey's Bars and Milky Ways like a real pro.

A funny incident occurred at a home around the block from us. As we approached the porch, I noticed all the lights were on and though the storm door was closed, the inside door was open. When Elijah rang the doorbell a huge Saint Bernard dog started barking and jumping up on the door. Elijah, whose fear of dogs is only matched by Sarah's fear of spiders, ran back to my side as fast as he could. We waited for a moment or so and just before we were ready to go on a woman opened the door and beckoned us with four large chocolate bars (two Nestle Crunches and two Hershey with Almonds) which Elijah bravely took and placed into his pumpkin carrier. It was almost as if we were being tested (don't let the dog scare you away and your reward we be giant candy bars) and we passed. In fact, for the next fifteen minutes, the existence and whereabouts of those two Crunch bars were Elijah's only concern.

So how successful was this year's Halloween? I'll let you know after Elijah visits the dentist in a couple of months.

TO INFINITY AND BEYOND.....or at least to the house on the next block with the Crunch bars!

Alex, I'll take geography for $300

We just got back from visiting family (plus some friends and clients) in Los Angeles, where the temperature was in the 90s and the air was the same color as the hills -- brown. Although we did our usual driving all over town, we also spent more time at our "home base" (my sister's house) than we normally do, and that made this trip more relaxing. (There will be a more detailed post on this subject in a few days.)

On the flight out to L.A., Elijah, using the markers and the ream of paper we brought on board, drew many things. Most important to him was his map of "the United Stades of America" shown below:

If you can't quite make it out, the purple states are Texas and Colorado, and while I have no idea where he thinks the "State of News" is, I can tell him that it isn't a place to be right now.

Though you can't tell from this map, the amount of beachfront property available in Kansas is very limited. And in Elijah's world, that coast-to-coast flight from "York" to "Caforina" sure seems a lot easier. No matter, Elijah was extremely proud of his map, and, during our trip, needed to know where it was on a daily basis.

Our little guy's career as a cartographer continued when we got home, but this time it was global in nature...

Naturally, Washington plays a major role in world affairs and can't be ignored, but its placement is telling. Florida has to be on there, because that's where Mickey Mouse lives, and besides, without Florida, what would be the purpose of spring break? Mexico is where Mom's favorite drink (magaritas) comes from. And Kansas proudly sits right there on top of the world.

After all, there's no place like home.

Emotional Rescue

A byproduct of Elijah's autism is his occasional inability to understand emotions. If we are out somewhere and a child is crying, he will stare intently, smile and say, "Daddy, (s)he is upset." And he fully understands when we are angry; when either Sarah or I raise our voices, he knows he has crossed a certain line. (Admittedly, that line is a lot further out for me than for Sarah, which he also comprehends very well.)

As part of his therapy, he is being shown pictures of facial expressions and asked to convey what emotions are being expressed. Since he was toddler, there has been a poster up in his room with pictures of children showing wide ranges of emotions. He had commented on this poster before (and impersonated the different facial expressions shown) but the new emphasis on reading emotions has inspired Elijah to a series of artistic endeavors as shown below:













































Notice the reason for his pride....the medal on his chest!


But my absolute favorite is this one for obvious reasons:

A Cold Day in........Kansas

Although it was indeed a very cold day, Sarah, Elijah and I made our way to the Kansas Speedway for the Autism Speaks Walk. I don't know what it is about autism walks and the weather, but the previous two times I have participated in this type of event, the weather has been horrible. The first time, it sleeted -- with a wind-chill factor in single digits -- and the other time, rain poured down as if we were in a monsoon.

But because I felt it was our duty to go, I dragged Sarah and Elijah out in the cold. Elijah had a great time (the fact that he was in the wagon the entire two-mile walk, wrapped in warm blankets, didn't hurt) and with TWO moonwalks to jump and slide on, how could he not? Dad had a pretty good time as well, as I got to talk with some people on some autism-related issues and see my little guy laugh and smile. Even Mom, who was tired and cold, eventually got into the spirit of things.

With a "Fall Festival" scheduled for tomorrow at a large metropolitan park, and the weather forecasters saying it will be the same type of day, I know my work is cut out for me if I want to convince Sarah to come with us. But somehow, when she is sitting in the warmth of our home seeing the smile on his face in these pictures, Sarah gets a little more willing to join our little astronaut on another "moonwalk."

Bouncing around in his favorite spot....inside a moon walk.

Curb Your Enthusiasm

The title of this post has three meanings. First, as a homage to one of my all-time top three favorite television series (the two others are "Taxi" and "The Larry Sanders Show"), which returned to the air this week.

Second, for those of you who read and enjoy this blog and want to know why it isn't updated more often, understand we love the fact that you read our meanderings, but with both of us working and taking care of Elijah, the time left for creating these short masterpieces is limited.

Last, the title of this post is what I want to tell Elijah whenever Mary Poppins or an inflated moonwalk is available ...

With that out of the way, I will now bring you up to date.

As Sarah has mentioned previously, Elijah has started kindergarten, and it appears he is doing pretty well. He seems to enjoy his class and the after-school care program he goes to three times a week. Fortunately for us, most of his odd observations and behavior seem to be confined to our home.

As an example, Sarah mentioned to me that one day he announced he had to go to the restroom. Nothing wrong there, but when she thought he had been gone too long, she opened the door to find him standing on the sink looking at himself in the mirror, completely naked except for a strand of Mardi Gras beads around his neck. New Orleans, here we come!!

The bathroom seems to be a source of constant material for the little guy. Another day he told Sarah that the shape of the toilet looked like an arm on each side, which meant the bowl would be the person's head, when one lifted the lid, they would go "pee pee in that person's mouth!" Who knew? And I won't even get started on Elijah's fear of loud toilets, in which a Wendy's restroom off the interstate is in his mind is as horrible as Jason, Hannibal Lecter and Al Capone combined.

As I mentioned earlier, Mary Poppins is more popular around here than ice cream, with Elijah singing and dancing along with every song in this two-hour-plus opus.

(By the way, I didn't remember that there was a song or dance every five minutes of the movie, which is important only because Elijah insists we dance with him. Talk about an aerobic workout!)

His fascination with words and a certain song in the movie is evident here and was also written on a blackboard in a classroom at a temple we were attending for a special-needs program. The rabbi was so stunned she took pictures to show the congregation. (The printing on the board was much neater and in a straight line, which made it even more impressive.)

Elijah's love of this movie knows no bounds, and he expresses it in many ways. To mimic the "penguin dance," he will pull his pants down (just like Dick Van Dyke) as well as dance on his knees. The rooftop dance scene with the chimney sweeps is another favorite, with Elijah doing high kicks and a balancing dance step that would qualify him for a role in "A Chorus Line."

But his artistic side is also inspired by Mary. The following are just a few of his drawings from the film:

The hat rack Mary pulls out of her suitcase...

The lamp Mary pulls out next...

and his drawing of Old Man Dawes, who died laughing....

A short time later, another drawing appeared in our den, which I thought was also inspired by Mary Poppins. When I asked Elijah if this was his interpretation of the dance sequence "Step in Time" I was told no, that this had nothing to do with the movie.

"So what is it?" I asked.

"He's going to the restroom!" was the reply, and if you look closely, you can definitely spot the anatomy needed and the action occurring.

But it hasn't all been nothing but "a jolly holiday with Mary" around here. As I mentioned, we attended a program at a local temple with the preparation for the event stressing out Dad as he was trying to get the little guy dressed and ready. And because the little guy loves to remember and repeat songs and phrases that he hears, I probably shouldn't, while frustrated in getting him ready, utter the phrase "God damn it". (Yes, I know that seems mild, but just the previous week, without any warning, Elijah let loose, in an matter-of-fact way, a profanity-laced tirade dealing with spilled coffee. Since neither he nor I drink coffee or work at a Starbucks, it is quite obvious whom he heard it from.)

Sure enough, later that day at the grocery store, Elijah was riding in the large part of the cart drinking some water after his usual free cookie from the bakery, when Dad banged the cart against a display case (please no comments about my hitting stationary objects, even with a shopping cart). That action caused the following reaction from Elijah; "God damn it .... the water's cold!" Now mind you, this wasn't shouted in anger, but said in pure disgust with the situation. And as if to show that this wasn't a short-term memory situation, it repeated itself two weeks later. While he was eating a bowl of carrots in the back seat on the way to the gym, the bowl fell to the car floor as I took a corner a little too fast. "God damn it, the carrots are on the floor!" was Elijah's understated response, and though I know I shouldn't, I had to smile just a bit.

Interesting observations have become the norm for Elijah lately. A couple of examples: One day last week, completely out of the blue, he mentioned to Sarah that "somebody had two babies and six babies on 'Jon & Kate Plus Eight!' " A couple of days later, noticing the difference in height between Sarah and me as we were all walking down a hallway, he commented that "Daddy needs to be taller."

He also is greeting people with his killer smile and saying the right things. (Upon seeing a classroom assistant from a previous semester, he hugged her and said, "Hi, sweetie.")

All in all, it has been a great summer and a good start to the fall. As Sarah mentioned earlier, he loves school and he has already charmed the Y-Care (YMCA after-school program) people and the new therapists he is working with. He is talking more and wants to play with (or at least alongside) the neighborhood kids. There are festivals aplenty coming up in the next few weeks, all of which involve moonwalks, so he should have that big smile on his face for quite awhile. (The picture at the top of this post was from one such festival this week.)

Lastly, as a point of parental privilege, I have bought the items needed for his Halloween costume this year. Just like his daddy was 45 years ago, he will be the chimney sweep from "Mary Poppins." When he puts on the hat and starts to twirl the broom, all I can say is, "God damn it, he's cute!"

All aboard for kindergarten!

My, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Does it help that I have an excuse or two -- or 10 --for not posting anything lately?

If you're one of Elijah's grandparents, who at last count accounted for approximately 80 percent of the readers of this blog, I'm guessing the answer is no.

But I'll try anyway: School has started (five dropoffs and pickups a week), I'm in physical therapy for a knee injury (two therapy visits a week), Elijah is seeing both a speech therapist and an occupational therapist (two therapy visits a week), and I'm temporarily working full time again (five round-trip commutes to downtown each week, arriving back home at 12:30 a.m.).

Technically, there are also bills to be paid and rooms to be cleaned and laundry and yard work and grocery shopping to be done, though as you might imagine, I'm not quite keeping up with it alone. (Thank you, Jeff, for being a fantastic dad and husband and mower of lawns and washer of clothes and grocery shopper!)

On top of it all, there are various houseguests on the way in the next few weeks. You all know who you are; please forgive us in advance for the state of the house. We actually do look forward to having you here, but you can't say you weren't warned.

(An aside: How do households with two full-time workers and more than one child manage to maintain their sanity? I simply couldn't do it!)

Kindergarten seems to be going reasonably well for Elijah. It's too early for parent-teacher conferences, although we have already had back-to-school night and parent information night and some other night whose purpose I can't even remember. Many other such nights are scheduled throughout the year -- book fair, curriculum night, and on and on, making me wonder how I made it through 12 years of public schools with nothing more than the occasional "open house." (Just fine, actually.)

So far, kindergarten has held no surprises -- Elijah's still ahead of the curve on academic stuff and behind on everything else.

That's why he's in occupational therapy, which focuses on getting him to follow instructions, work as part of a group and pay close attention to the behaviors, moods and words of others. We're hoping it will help close the gap between Elijah and typical kindergartners.

That gap is sometimes literal. When lining up to go somewhere, which appears to constitute a fairly big portion of a kindergartner's day, Elijah is always the one wandering off, or slowing down as the line makes its way down the hall -- to the point that children behind him are pushing him and begging him to get moving along. He doesn't seem to have much interest in moving along, preferring to wait until a teacher or aide takes him by the hand and speeds him up. I've always found it perfectly acceptable to pull him around from place to place, but of course the teachers at school have better things to do -- this ain't preschool!

And that's the shocker for him. After four years of preschool, he's become rather accustomed to being in a sheltered environment. Those classes consisted of a few kids with "special needs," like Elijah, and a few "peer models," who were chosen on the basis of personality traits tending toward the calm and quiet. And several adults were in each classroom.

But now he's in the rough-and-tumble of a mainstream kindergarten, where the girls talk nonstop and the boys roughhouse nonstop. Being not much of a talker and not much of a roughhouser, Elijah is a bit taken aback by it all, but he's doing well (with the help of an extra adult in the classroom) and seems to like it just fine. His skill with academic tasks when compared with the other kids gives him a bit of confidence, which helps. (He's been writing complete sentences for several years now, so this week's homework -- a worksheet on the letter "C" -- is not exactly a challenge.)

I don't really have time for much more of an update, but I'll try to sit down in the next week or so and share the (surprising) tale of what appears to be Elijah's favorite class.

Hint: His favorite color is now "rouge."

Au revoir ......

Does Best Western need a spokes-child?

Heaven knows I have tried.

I have tried to nurture a love of the outdoors in my son. I have tried to pique his interest in nature and in the many ways it manifests itself here in our neck of the (suburban) woods. I take him out on the porch to watch thunderstorms. I take him sledding down snow-covered hills. I point out the first blooms of spring, the hum of cicadas in the summer and the vibrant colors of autumn. We've gone on nature walks and hayrides. We've been river rafting and cave-exploring. We've caught fireflies. We've petted dogs.

He's not buying any of it.

Like so many others of his generation, Elijah would much rather be inside, watching a video or playing on the computer. Driving out into the wilderness with him, you can almost feel the sense of alarm rising from the back seat as his voice grows increasingly concerned: "Where's all the cars? Where's McDonald's?" And, if you should have reason to turn onto a dirt road ..... "WHAT HAPPENED TO THE STREET?!!!!"

For a long time, I blamed this on his genetic contribution from Jeff, who has to be bribed at length to even sit out on the back patio with me on a beautiful summer evening. Needless to say, dirt roads are not part of Jeff's life experience (no, honey, dust does not ruin the engine).

But to be fair, I'm not exactly an outdoors person either, unless "outdoors person" is defined as someone who likes to open the windows on a nice day. Roughing it, to me, means sleeping on sheets with a thread count of less than 500. Pioneer woman, I am not.

But I do have something of a pioneer background, at least compared with most of my friends, neighbors and co-workers. I actually grew up in a remote small town, which happens to be nestled in the hill country of the Ozarks. That's where I drag Jeff and Elijah once a year, to experience the woods and the rivers and the springs and the caves. A couple of the new photos over there on the right were taken at our last journey into the woods, when we hiked a short trail to reach a beautiful spring that feeds the river we rafted on last summer.

It has been about three weeks since we returned from that trip, which involved not only playing in the river and hiking the trail, but also visiting family and walking around the town where I grew up.

So what does Elijah most remember and love about this trip?

The hotel, of course. A run-of-the-mill chain -- Best Western. Clean enough and relatively new, it's a perfectly acceptable hotel, but THIS IS NOT WHY WE DROVE A 500-MILE ROUND TRIP. Elijah would be stunned to hear me say that, but he doesn't read this blog, so I guess he'll just cling to the notion that the whole reason we go down to West Plains, Missouri, is so he can jump back and forth between the beds in the hotel room.

It's really hard to describe how much he loves doing this. For MONTHS after every trip, he begs to go back. The begging reaches a fever pitch anytime things are not going his way. When I sent him to "time out" for misbehaving the other day, he chose to use that time sobbing, over and over: "Want to go to the hotel in West Plains." (hiccup, sob, sniff...) "Want to go to" (dramatic wail) "BEST WESTERRRRRRN!!!!"

So, to my family: Sorry. We tried. We tried to get your one and only grandchild interested in visiting you and enjoying the beautiful wilderness areas you have. But next summer, I think we will limit our outdoors adventures to Jeff and Elijah's comfort zone of suburban golf courses and swimming pools. (Our city actually has a beautiful municipal swimming pool, which consists of three pools, slides, a "sprayground" of fountains, lots of grass and trees and flowerbeds, wooden sundecks, etc. Relaxing in a lounge chair there, you could almost fool yourself into believing you were on vacation at a tropical resort, except for the regrettable lack of a thatched-roof hut selling frilly umbrella drinks.)

And to Jeff's family: California, here we come! We'll be there in a couple of months, and Elijah will be thrilled at the vista of cars and McDonald's as far as the eye can see. Nothing will happen to the street -- Ventura Boulevard is his favorite, and I don't recall it turning into a dirt road at any point. But if you want him to really get excited about seeing you, you'll need to do just one little thing:

Please build a Best Western in your back yard.

I know Tom Hanks looks different with long hair....but not this much!

Last month our cable company had one of those specials that run every few months, though I guess their frequency wouldn't make them so special. For the month of July we would receive two extra premium movie channels for free with the hope we would become so enamored that we would have to sign (pay) up once our trial period ran out. Fifty opportunities to see Lara Croft Tomb Raider is probably forty-nine too many, so I wasn't about to increase my cable bill just yet, however I did take advantage of the offer by DVRing a variety of movies I have missed, including a couple of recent Oscar winners.


Being the caring husband that I am, I saw there was going to be a showing on late one night of a film that Sarah had not seen, but had been fascinated by the story, if not the writing. The DaVinci Code was going to be on at 1:00 a.m. so I decided to tape it for her. It wasn't until the next morning that I discovered that the film I recorded was not the Ron Howard directed version, but was in fact called the DaVinci Coed, a soft-core porn movie which I doubt followed the book too closely. The reason I don't know the storyline is that the opening scene in this "classic" involved two girls and what appeared to be a sultan in a hot tub that was suppose to be in a palace in Europe but sure looked like a backyard in the San Fernando Valley. This threesome was interrupted by another woman, upset that the sultan would not give her his "powerful ring" (Wasn't this the plot line of the Beatles film "Help".) and thus murdered all three by electrocuting them with a toaster tossed into the hot tub, cord and all.


Now forgetting for a moment the absurdity of a unplugged toaster being tossed into water and thus shocking these people to death, the special effects of lightning bolts shooting through the water to show this mayhem were "Plan Nine from Outer Space" variety. Now I am not adverse to watching a sexy movie, but even a fantasy has to have some basis in reality and even I couldn't get by an electrocution by an unplugged appliance. I immediately deleted the film and now it has, in Sarah's mind, become an urban legend of smut.

But I haven't soured on recording movies that seem interesting to me. As an example I was unaware of a Dirty Harry sequel playing tonight that I must have missed when it came out. No, I'm not talking about Sudden Impact or Magnum Force, both of which I've seen. Has anyone heard of Dirty Harriet? Oh well, I'll give you my review later.

Less stuff, more substance

I've always preferred to spend money on experiences rather than things. That's why, even though we've never found the funds to replace our 1979 Formica countertops or the lovely "harvest gold" range top of the same era, we shell out thousands of dollars on vacations whenever we possibly can. It's why I'm willing to spend three times as much on a nice dinner out than I would ever spend on, say, a sweater or a pair of shoes. And it's why, on a night I'm not needed at work, I'll forgo the pay to spend time with Jeff and Elijah instead.

I think about this often as I stand in our basement playroom, surveying the enormous pile of games and toys that Elijah has accumulated over his six years on the planet. Like any typical American kid, he has way more than he needs. But unlike typical kids, he never really has gotten excited about much of it. Part of that is related to his autism -- he's totally "out of the loop" when it comes to kid culture, and he has no idea what the hot toys are -- or even that there ARE hot toys. Not once has he ever requested a gift of any type, for Christmas or Hanukkah or his birthday (unless you count his lifelong obsession with basketball goals, which he now wants about 20 of). Not once has he begged for something he's seen advertised on TV. Not once has he walked up to a store shelf and asked me to buy one of the items for him.

I got to thinking about the absurdity of consumerism while I was buying supplies for his birthday party a few weeks back. After picking up some basic partyware, I was wandering the aisles, looking at the astounding array of cheaply made junk designed to be purchased as "party favors" to fill little gift bags for the young guests. You know the stuff I'm talking about -- little plastic toys and jewelry and such that seems to fall apart almost at once.

It occurred to me that this stuff, all from China, was no doubt manufactured in one of those industrial cities that belch filth into the sky day and night and coat everything they make with toxic paint. Then it was taken in big, gas-guzzling, carbon-monoxide-emitting trucks to the seaport, where it was shipped across the Pacific, only to be placed on yet another greenhouse-gas form of transportation until it reached the middle of the country, where it sat on a store shelf until some well-meaning mother paid a few cents for it in a party-supply store, and probably took it home in a plastic bag. From there, it goes into a gift bag for a child who plays with it a few minutes at most before losing interest (or seeing it fall apart). Shortly thereafter, it's added to an already overflowing landfill.

If it were only little things, perhaps it wouldn't bother me so much. But the sequence of events I've just described applies to a lot of things that take up much more space in those low-mpg trucks -- and eventually in landfills. I'm afraid it's going to apply, eventually, to many of the toys now filling our basement. You know, those toys that Elijah never had much interest in to begin with, for whatever developmental or personality-based reasons.

This isn't to say he doesn't appreciate his gifts. Some of them he has been fanatical about -- Tinkertoys from my dad a few years back come to mind. He spent months carrying around a set of dolls from "Toy Story" from my sister and her boyfriend. He absolutely loves a scooter we bought him with money from my mom, and many of his favorite books are from Jeff's parents. Currently, he's head-over-heels crazy about a computer program Jeff's sister gave him.

But this summer, as I've seen how much he's developed at summer camp, it's become very clear to me that what he needs is not something that comes in a box. (Yes, I know I'm starting to sound like Dr. Suess here; I won't launch into the moral of the Grinch story.) He needs experiences like the one he's getting at camp -- playing sports and learning teamwork and taking swimming lessons and going on field trips and so on. Those summer months can be a developmental death trap for kids with autism, who need structured settings all year round, not just during the school months.

Problem is, summer camp is expensive, even for typical kids. For kids with autism, where a much higher adult-child ratio is necessary, they're even more expensive.

That's why, from now on, we're asking everyone in the family (but thank you to those who are not in the family, for reading this blog anyway! All 10 or 15 of you!) to no longer buy Elijah gifts for Hanukkah and Christmas and his birthday. Trust us, he already has plenty! And we'll make sure he has a few modest presents (from us) to unwrap on those days.

Instead, please consider making a donation toward summer camp, in whatever amount you would have spent on a gift. We're setting up a bank account next week that we intend to use ONLY for summer camp, so we're getting a good start on next year. In addition to a hefty "seed money" contribution of our own, we're using some money my mom left us for gift-buying purposes, as well as a check that Jeff's parents sent for the same purpose (yes, we had intended to get him a small trampoline and probably still will, but we're much more excited about the camp fund!)

My hope is that a few small donations from family throughout the year, along with larger donations by us, will cover most of the cost of camp each summer. At this age, he's just going to a day camp (and a wonderful one it is!), but as he gets older, I hope to give him the experience of a real, in-the-woods sleep-away camp. There is just such a place not far from here, with a session each summer devoted to kids on the autism spectrum. It has all the traditional summer camp experiences: Swimming, fishing, horseback riding, hiking, sports, arts, campfires and s'mores! It's in very high demand and draws applicants from several states, so there's no guarantee we'll get in, but we're sure going to try. I'm even hoping to be involved as a volunteer -- although I must admit I probably wouldn't if they didn't have air-conditioned cabins!

So, if you are on that list of people who always feel obliged (and stumped) when it comes to gift-giving for Elijah, be stumped no more! Help us put a stop to materialism before it even starts for Elijah. Help us make his life more about substance and less about stuff.

Thank you!!!!!

There's no place like home

I always knew Elijah would love "The Wizard of Oz"; it was in his genes. (I had been Munchkin of the Day on a local radio show many, many years ago.) So I was excited to see that it was going to be playing uninterrupted on TCM this past holiday weekend. Yay, DVR!

Boy, was I right. He was riveted to the screen for the entire movie. He loved the music, the color of OZ and especially the main characters (the Wicked Witch didn't scare him, but the flying monkeys necessitated Daddy sharing the chair for hugs). When we went to the park that night for fireworks, the walk back to the car was punctuated by Elijah's singing of "We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of OZ. Because because because because because because because because" (at this point Daddy, for the peace of mind of anyone walking near us, informed Elijah that it was because of the wonderful things he does.)

His love of the film hasn't waned (like any child, he will watch something that he likes over and over again), and repeated viewings have caused his creative side to emerge. At the top of this post is the front of a card he did today. Below is the inside ...

This is one of many wonderful things he does!

The Cadillac of camps

So it's been awhile. But give me a break, OK? What with hauling Elijah to and from camp every day, working until midnight four nights a week, trying to make it to the gym four days a week (success!) and trying to keep the jungle known as our yard under control (failure), blogging has fallen a bit by the wayside for both Jeff and me. I see that we haven't even updated those "Spring Arrives At Last" pictures there on the right. Perhaps by the first snowfall, we'll get around to it.

All in all, we've been having a good summer. Elijah's camp experience is going well, except that the therapists are a bit frustrated with his inattentiveness (which I refer to as spaciness) and his failure to follow directions (which I refer to as just plain annoying).

It's been suggested that we try a gluten-free diet, which, if you know anything about autism, is the standard well-meaning suggestion from well-meaning people who do not share a home with an extraordinarily picky eater -- a topic I covered thoroughly in my June 9 post and will spare you from rehashing here.

I'm all for improving his diet, but once you eliminate pizza, mac and cheese, bagel chips, pretzels, cookies, granola bars, bread, crackers, cake, spaghetti, all other pasta, all other baked goods and anything that involves flour or wheat in any form, you pretty much eliminate the entire American diet. (Which, come to think of it, is the whole point of that documentary "Food, Inc." and is, in theory, not a bad idea.)

Yes, adults with celiac disease manage just fine without gluten, but adults with celiac disease understand WHY they need to manage their diets very carefully. Just try explaining the (scientifically tenuous) connection between autism and diet to a 6-year-old who has no idea what the words "autism" or "diet" mean, much less the word "gluten," but knows he's very hungry right now and Mommy won't let him have a granola bar OR bagel chips OR mac and cheese OR waffles OR cereal OR toast OR .... you get the idea.

I'm sure at this point you're wondering, "Why doesn't she just try the gluten-free alternatives in the supermarket?" To which I can only reply, have YOU ever tried them? If so, my sympathies. Super-mint toothpaste will help get that taste out of your mouth.

So, on we go. We're within six weeks of the start of kindergarten, and state budget cuts have made it extremely unlikely that there will be a para in the classroom to help Elijah and other "spacy" (or, if you prefer, "special needs") kids through the day. It makes me really dread the school year. And really grateful that I'm not a kindergarten teacher.

Still, I'm trying to go forward with some degree of optimism. At the very least, we have Elijah in a good place for the summer -- a much better place than being home with a sleep-deprived night-shift-working mom. (Note to self: In next life, be born wealthy and never have to work for a living. There! I feel more optimistic already.)

As a measure of just how great this camp is, consider this: For Elijah's birthday, the camp arranged for all the kids to take a limousine ride to Chuck-E-Cheese (which could probably just rename itself Chuck-E-Gluten).

Limo rides are no big deal to a lot of kids in my area -- no self-respecting 8-year-old girl around here would be caught dead throwing a birthday party that didn't include a limo ride and some sort of "spa day" -- but I am of a more down-to-earth nature, and this was Elijah's first-ever view of the inside of a limo. (Mine, too, actually. Until three weeks ago, I could always note with pride that I would never be pretentious enough to go anywhere in a limo. Now I've wasted that source of pride on a franchise pizza place featuring a giant singing mouse.)

So here it is -- the gas-guzzling, global-warming Cadillac Escalade behemoth that transported a group of wide-eyed kids and their moms (and in Elijah's case, grandma) for a spin around the suburbs and to the much-beloved Chuck-E-Cheese.








As everyone used to say in those months after Sept. 11, that's why they hate us!

Why, no matter how frustrated we may get, being a parent is the best!!

Nothing more needs to be said.

Summer's here and the time is right for......doing family things?

OK ... so maybe that isn't the way the Stones wrote the song, but Mick and Keith are both grandparents now, so they would understand. Of course, their summer escapades include visits to exotic beaches on faraway islands while ours are to the local park pool. C'est le difference!

The "park pool" today is not like the one I grew up going to, an Olympic-size pool surrounded by concrete and a wire fence. Our local "Aquatic Center" has three different pools, a fountain garden, slides and lots of grass and shade. (Surrounded by a chain link fence ... some things just can't be improved upon.) Elijah loves going there and has graduated from the zero-depth entry to, as he calls it, "the big pool." With his life vest on, he fearlessly paddles out to where Dad has to bounce on his toes to keep his head above water (and no, that's not in four feet of water!).

Here in the Midwest, Memorial Day is the opening of summer, and Elijah and I were at the pool the first weekend. With the temperature just barely reaching the high 70's, the water was a bit cold. How cold? As I waded in, this was my first thought:

But wade I did as the little guy, with his life vest on, took off for uncharted waters. His laughter and joy helped warm the water (but not that much!).

Memorial Day weekend included not only a dip in the pool, but also a family outing to a free symphony concert and fireworks show at a local landmark. Elijah staked out his seat early for the show, but as you can see it was right in the middle of the walkway.

With some (ahem) coaxing, and the promise of shared frozen custard with Dad, he relented and moved onto the lawn with everyone else.

The next weekend we all went to a street festival in a historic district near us. As with other carnivals and fairs, Mom volunteered for Ferris wheel duty while Dad gladly took pictures from the ground. Elijah loved the rides, especially the variety of moonwalks available. All in all, a happy day for the family.

Which brings us up to last weekend. On Friday, the yearly Jazz Fest (which is held in a wooded area that houses a corporate park) was our destination. Although music filled the air, all Elijah wanted to do was go on the variety of moonwalks that were there....over and over and over again. After that it was time to cool off in the fountains, where the music finally caused him to have a case of "happy feet."

All of this was just a prelude for Elijah's birthday party (the first of two, his camp is giving him one this week at Chuck-E-Cheese's, limo ride included) which was a huge success. Sarah agonized over what kind of party to have and decided to let our health club sponsor it (it's a great facility with a great kids program). Neighbors and friends from school (well, they want to be his friend, even though Elijah ignores them most of the time) ate cake and ice cream and then went swimming in the large INDOOR pool. Yes, even though we had scheduled the party to be at the outdoor pool facility, the staff thought it would be too cold and moved it indoors. Since I was one of the parents in the pool, I was not entirely opposed to the decision (see earlier mention of pool temperature in this post).

Elijah loved being lifted up from the water and the air was filled with lots of kids screaming in delight. In fact, bouncing with Elijah in the pool and all of the kids in the water having a great time, it felt as if summer had really arrived.