
A New Attitude

A big burly construction worker joined his wife and together they rejected my words. “You’re just making excuses for him. Get him out of here. He’s upsetting our kids.”
“But…”
“No buts, get him out and take him home.”
“He loves it here.”
“The playscape is for regular kids.”
“He is a regular kid.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Well, he wants to be a regular kid.”
His little body was so twisted he couldn’t raise his head, so his teacher and classmates lifted his wheelchair and locked it in place on top of a large rectangular table with the other children seated around him looking up while he looked down. It was a grand arrangement. Michael was the center of attention and he knew it. And he could participate because he was now able to observe all that was going on without raising his head. My little guy with autism was thrilled for Michael. Michael was now happy. He wasn’t alone anymore, staring at the floor. And the other kids (typical and untypical) were delighted as well. They loved Michael.
Michael’s Mother and the Food Stamps
Heroes and Heroines
Not self-indulgent, self-absorbed celebrities, but steady, loving, uncomplaining moms and dads who concentrate on the needs of their handicapped kids, and who (late at night) remember their own dreams and hopes.