That Loving, Fellowship Feeling

Filed Under (Adam, Family, Friendship, Inclusion, Joy, Living, school, Single Parenthood) by Estee on 05-08-2013

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Adam and Nolan lunch

This is Adam’s best friend. Aside from going back to camp this summer, which he is able to do with an assistant, this is the friend who Adam spends time with. We recognized it was a real, unscripted friendship when the two of them preferred to play without words, to roll around on the floor, or when Adam would lead his friend around the house to show him things. His friend is verbal and not autistic and seems to understand and have compassion for Adam, and I believe the feeling is mutual for Adam towards his friend.

There have been lots of events this past week, most importantly the decision to send him back to the school he attended two years ago, which is not an autism school, but a school for all kinds of wonderful kids. Adam had good friendships there; we could make adaptations in the way work was presented; he could show off his skills and he especially enjoyed the mentoring program when the older kids would teach him. There, he made lasting friendships that have stood the test of time – the same friends attend his camp, and they enjoy each other’s company. His typing stories is getting stronger this summer with our daily practice, and helping Adam with schedules and learning to be patient with me (I’m a single mom… I need his patience) is another important lesson he’s learning with success. Let’s just say, I’ve made these things my mission and I find when I attend to them carefully, we generally do well.

Here’s an example: Every weekend, he wants so badly to go to his grandparent’s house. There, he is soothed and served by my mother. My father gives him strong hugs and takes him on his long walks and subway rides. How could he not love the attention and understanding he receives there? (In fact, he loves them so much, I’m going to ask the TTC if they will take us on a special learning tour). If I don’t take him and I don’t have a plan, he had been getting quite distraught with me. I decided to let it be. I broke part of my foot on Friday and couldn’t do everything he asked. This prompted a teaching moment.

“Grandma’s house,” he demanded on Saturday, looking at me with determination in his eyes. I was a bit nervous he would bite his wrist if he got angry with me; he wears a chewy tube or heart around his neck so if he’s inclined to do so, he will choose that now instead.

“We can’t go today. We’ll go tomorrow,” I said, thinking whoops – that’s an abstract concept and I’m not sure if tomorrow could wait. What is tomorrow when we want it now? I tried making a calendar, and since he can read – I simply wrote in the plan for the days. We went through Saturday, then Sunday…

“Grandma’s house,” he said again emphatically.

“Not today. First we will eat lunch, then we will go for a drive,” I declared, thinking of my foot. Adam got out of the chair, he was sitting in, and I wondered what he was going to do next. Then, he walked towards the rotary phone I bought – to gain his interest in making telephone calls, since he seemed averse to talking on the phone. He picked up the receiver and began dialing. I quickly held up grandma and grandpa’s phone-number, just to make sure we weren’t calling Australia. He put his finger in each hole and dialed each number carefully. He began speaking into the phone, without my assistance.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Adam, may I listen?” I asked, knowing that my folks weren’t likely to be home. Sure enough it was the answering machine. “Okay, they’re not home,” I said to Adam. “Let’s call grandpa’s cell phone.” I held up the number for him to follow again and dial.

“Hello” he said into the receiver. Again, I did not know what was being said to Adam, or if anyone was even there. “I’m fine,” he said again. “I love you….can… I… go…to…your…house?” he asked softly, speaking each word deliberately.

“Adam,” I interjected. “May I please speak to grandpa?” I took the phone from Adam to ask my parents where they were and indeed, they were not going to be home. I asked if they would please tell Adam themselves (they were in the car on speaker phone).

“Tomorrow” I heard Adam say softly and he began to whine. “Bye.”

I was elated that Adam made his first phone call by himself. After that, we were able to follow through with the day without a hitch. I asked him if he wanted to go for ice cream, it went so well.

“What flavour do you want…raspberry?” I asked.

“No.”

“Lemon?”

“No.”

“How about chocolate?”

“No.” In fact, if you’ve ever watched Gumby,you might recall Mr.Nopey, from which Adam has earned one of his many nicknames; you’ll just about get the right intonation and speed of Adam’s replies.

I waited for a bit. Then Adam declared…”White!” I realized that someone told me he had tried lemon once and really liked it.

“I think white is lemon, Adam,” I said.

We drove to the frozen yoghurt shop and indeed, he loved lemon.

So today, with my broken foot, I sent Adam along with his friend to Canada’s Wonderland where they shared rides and won a couple of prizes. I’ve been thinking of the typing, the relationship we share when we do it together, preparing Adam the way he needs to be prepared, and Adam’s strong desire to connect. I think when I spend more time with Adam typing and sharing, and when he can spend more time in sincere relationships that aren’t always highly verbal and difficult for him, he is a happier kid. Then, as I finished my Master’s Research Paper (more or less) today, I was thinking of Larry’s line in the movie Wretches and Jabberer’s when he speaks to Tracy about their trip to Japan and Sri Lanka, and they’re in dialogue about how nice it was that they traveled together: “Larry loops twice on that loving fellowship feeling.” Indeed, there is something about the summer that triggers these feelings -perhaps it’s simply more time – and I’ve learned how important these feelings are…all year long.

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About Me


ESTÉE KLAR

I’m a PhD candidate at York University, Critical Disability Studies, with a multi-disciplinary background in the arts as a curator and writer. I am the Founder of The Autism Acceptance Project (www.taaproject.com), and an enamoured mother of my only son who lives with the autism label. I like to write about our journey, critical issues regarding autism in the area of human rights, law, and social justice, as well as reflexive practices in (auto)ethnographic writing about autism.