More than one way to look at things

We live with, deal with, autism on a daily basis. In the last few weeks, it has been in my face sort of "front and center" quite a bit. I usually have to back up from it at times because it becomes overwhelming. I can talk about it for hours if I have to, especially if someone needs me, but I'd rather not.

There are several schools of thought; several different ways of thinking about autism these days. I'm glad that some of the discussion is being led by auties themselves. Shouldn't they have a say in how they want to be perceived?

I read a blog yesterday from a mom that went on and on, at length, about whether her daughter "had autism," was "autistic," or was "living with autism." The terminology was very important to her, but I got lost in her definitions. I really don't want the people in my life struggling to find the politically correct phrase in order to not offend me. Their heart and their intent are more important to me. If something is said that is incorrect or reveals a misconception, I may speak to educate, but I don't want others walking on tiptoes around us.

One way of thinking is the cure/recovery. Many dollars are being spent in research to find a cure. The thinking is that we have to find a way for this horrible thing to go away. The new buzzword in these circles is recovery. Even more money is spent to find the cause. Not to be overly political, but if a genetic marker was found (and some have been) would it be possible to choose to abort a child if you knew they were going to have autism? Is this money well spent?

Another way of thinking is that people with autism are different. Neurologically different, to be sure, but just different. Some adults living with autism (there I go, choosing a politically correct term) feel that there is nothing "wrong" with the way they are. They are not freaks or mistakes, they are just different. Their brains process information differently. They may need help to navigate the world they are in, but they shouldn't be wiped off the face of the planet.

Some people will say that autism isn't who their child is, but rather it is an outside force that came in, attacked their child, and tortures their child on a daily basis. Others will say that autism is a part of their child; it is part and parcel of who they are. I can see validity in both opinions. I have felt both ways at different times.

When it comes down to it, which side of this debate I am on doesn't really matter. What do Mark and Jonathan think? It is their life; it is their future. How do they want to be perceived, received, etc?

I asked them and they told me, in their own inimitable fashion.

They want to be accepted for who they are, warts and all. Don't you? They need help to make it in the world, just like everybody else. How many of us can truly make it alone? When they look in the mirror, they see themselves, not a label.

I really hope the link to this video works. You don't have to agree or disagree, but I think it's worth watching to start the dialogue. It is one way to view things; through the eyes of autistics themselves. By the way, Mark thought it was cool.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWOwNP9vC6k

mid-life crisis

I think I finally understand the term "mid-life crisis." I've heard that phrase tossed around for years and always associated it with old men suddenly buying convertible sports cars, trying to wear hip, young clothes, chasing their secretaries and such. It seemed like something you would joke about and it really didn't make much sense to me. What were they trying to prove?

I get it now. I mean, I really, totally get it.

When you're younger, it seems that every possibility is open to you. There really isn't much that you can't do if you pursue it. Then you wake up one day and realize, some of those doors of opportunity are closing. Life is far, far from over, but it begins to become obvious that the things you could've done aren't going to happen now.

I've never given much thought to a bucket list. (You know, the things you want to do before you die.) I'm not sure what I would put on it. But I still have this feeling like there's so much more that I want to do, even if I don't know what it is yet.

I think I would like to travel some; I want a camper. I want to drive across the country. (Actually, I want to ride across the country while Ronnie drives. :) I'd like to hone my skills to be really, really good at something. I don't know what, but something. I want to be healthier. I want to see my kids grown and taken care of. I'd like to act in a play and make everybody cry with my spot-on dramatic performance. I want to star in the lead role of a musical. (now, everybody don't say "Mame" at once!)

I also want to enjoy the things that growing older has done for me. I have a much truer sense of who I am and what matters; and what never will. I'm much more peaceful, settled, and okay with myself. Teenagers and twenty-somethings can keep their angst, I'm done with it!

One thing on the list would be to grow old gracefully; only, I don't think I could ever do it quietly. I don't do anything quietly.

Flowers

I love flowers; all kinds. I wish I was a better gardener. I like a manicured landscape. Ours is still a work in progress.

I live in what used to be my grandmother's house. She died in 2001 at age 91. Most of the flowers and other landscaping I have were planted by her. Come spring, the blooming begins. By mid February, the daffodils start coming up. I've counted at least 6 different varieties. By the first of May, the irises begin blooming and continue until after Mother's Day.

The dogwood trees bloom around Easter and the kids are always photographed in front of the white one in the front yard, chronicling their growth through the years.

We've had to lose a couple of bushes; an azalea and a giant, oak leaf hydrangea. That was sad, but I still have one of the hydrangeas in the front yard. It is huge and beautiful and continues to thrive even with amateur gardeners whacking on it.

Then there are the forsythia bushes and the ivy (which I am currently trying to transplant), and other shrubs that I don't know the names of.

By summer, day lilies and tiger lilies (I guess that's what they are) are blooming. Orange is not my favorite color, but I've come to enjoy them, mostly because she planted them. The day lilies were all but gone when I discovered them and moved them. (Ronnie had mowed them down with the weedeater for about five years.)

I have dug up bulbs and moved them all around the yard. It is very gratifying to see the flowers still thriving after all these years. It seems that moving them gives them a boost or something. They seem to like new surroundings. Of course, it is economical to use the same bulbs instead of buying new ones, but there is also an element of keeping her memory alive by keeping her flowers. It is impossible to look out the kitchen window at the blooms without thinking of her.

It seems a bit metaphorical to me. Ma Carroll lived through times that people had to be tough just to survive. The Great Depression, 9 kids, losing her husband too soon; to name just a few. We've also had our character building time. The hardest few years of my life ended with my 2 boys being diagnosed with autism, my own diagnosis of fibromyalgia, and my husband losing his job at his first pastorate. It was hard and it was bad; really, really bad. When I look back on it, I'm still amazed that we survived. Two words - grace and mercy.

It was during that very difficult time that we moved into Ma's house. It was small, but it was a safe haven. We've since added on a master suite, painted, pulled up old carpet to reveal hardwood floors, etc. I'm happy with my house, my yard, and my flowers. It feels like home.

Me, Ma, the flowers; we're from tough stock. We persevere.

I think Ma would be happy that I'm here. And while I know she would want me to be at home and do whatever I wanted, I think she would be pleased to see me enjoying and preserving her flowers.

Camp Canezy

We just wrapped up the 7th annual Camp Canezy. Canezy is a combination of Cathy + Jeanne + Suzy - me and my sisters.

It began as Cathy's idea. As the camping veteran, she had a camper and had taken her kids when they were younger. I came up with the name. It has continually evolved and grown every year. So much so, that we now have visitors who want to come to camp if only to participate for a day or an evening.

Each year has its own theme and we decorate t-shirts, have a talent show, go on nature hikes, do crafts, go to the pool, play "campo" (a form of bingo) with prizes, and have s'mores. Since our acquisition of a dvd projector several years ago, we have added nightly movies with popcorn.

(This year's theme was "Camp Rock" which provided much inspiration to campers and counselors, alike.)

We started out in a pop-up camper, but quickly outgrew that. We tried tents, but that wasn't very fun. (no fun for me, anyway) We now rent cabins. I've been told that it isn't really camping. Maybe not, but we never said it was camping; it's Camp Canezy. It's not about the camping; it's about the memories, the laughter, and the time together. Sometimes, I think it's as much about the three sisters as it is about the kids. Although, the kids have a large time and come home with all sorts of goodies.

We all lead hectic, busy lives. We send quick emails and even shorter text messages. We get together at holidays, but that sometimes becomes about getting everybody fed. Camp provides a unique opportunity to spend extended time together. (with lots of blackmail picture possibilities)

I hope it will continue to grow and be a part of our family for a long time. My kids talk about it to others as if everybody's family does this and people ought to know exactly what they are talking about. Maybe people will learn what it's about and consider a family camp of their own. If they do, I've got lots of ideas. :)