Hippo Birdy Two Ewes

Yesterday was a red letter day around our house. My son James (pictured here doing his best Mario impression) turned 18.

This photo was taken as we dined at Demos' restaurant in Murfreesboro (one of James's favorites). Our waiter made an appropriate fuss over him and even snapped this picture.

As some of you know, James is autistic. His particular diagnosis is Asperger's Syndrome. A quick Google search on Asperger's will provide you with all the relevant info. But, it complicates James's ability to communicate with other people effectively and manifests in obsessive/complusive behavior and "pervasive childishness" (the clinical term).

As a youngster, James often showed signs of genuine brilliance. By the time he was in first grade he was reading profusely and eloquently (he was eventually termed "hyperlexic" because of his ability to read far above his level of comprehension). He had remarkable spatial-thinking capabilities and used to do fairly complex puzzles by taking random pieces from the box, studying them, and then laying them in their proper place on the table, even when they did not connect to any other piece. And he normally would not have to move them again. They were sitting exactly where they belonged as the rest of the puzzle came together, random piece by random piece. When we had him tested at Vanderbilt as a young boy he bested some of their most complex puzzles (causing the tester to even utter "Wow" out loud).

But along with his flashes of brilliance came the other odd behaviors. His speech was confused and the syntax of his sentences was jumbled. Libbie and I often acted as interpreters between him and the outside world, filling in the blanks in his speech and conveying his meaning to others.

One day, back in first grade, a teacher suggested that he was autistic. My concept of autism was very different in those days and my son did not seem to demonstrate the severely withdrawn behavior I associated with autism. We began seeing doctors and he was labeled with a variety of ultimately-incorrect diagnoses; everything from "learning disabled" to "bipolar" to "ADHD."

When we finally heard the phrase "Asperger's Syndrome" I started reading about it. It was like someone had been looking through the window of our house and was writing about James specifically. It opened a door of understanding that had been locked and bolted for many years. Over time, we've learned to cope, to cooperate, and to provide him the highest quality of life possible. He is the reason we began home schooling several years ago when it became obvious that the local high school was ill-equipped to provide him an adequate education. Now, in the safety of his own home, he is fully capable of doing the work required for his grade level and I am determined that he will receive an earned high school degree next year.

It hasn't always been easy raising a special-needs kid. But, as I've learned more about him I've learned more about myself --- and about people in general. We all have our difficulties and hurdles to overcome. And everyday we have to get up and face what life brings us. Sometimes I think, "If James can do it, I can do it."

And, when I look at the local teenage boys, huddling in gangs, driving fast and loud, smoking, and drinking --- I prefer my boy in the Nintendo t-shirt, smiling as he eats his birthday brownie, laughing his head off at his ability to do a spot-on impression of Homestar Runner. Sometimes I listen to him in his room at night, when he's supposed to be sleeping, as he sings to himself and makes himself chuckle at his own jokes. The world is a strange place for my autistic son; but overall I think it's a happy place. And never a day goes by that I'm not thankful he's my boy.

Happy birthday, son. Your dad loves you more than life itself.