In our town, we have a couple of thoroughfares that are heavily used. These 4 lane roads with 35 mph posted speeds (but everyone goes 40 or even 45) are in mostly commercial/business areas although there is some multi family housing in the area. As you can imagine, crossing the street as a pedestrian might be challenging at best, darn near impossible at worst. Until our city installed pedestrian crossings. These are a new addition, I think we have 5 or 6 of them now. They have greatly improved pedestrian safety. But not everyone is pleased with them as they slow the progress of the traffic.
Yesterday as I was driving home from work, I was stopped at one of the pedestrian crossings with a car next to me also waiting. As I watched the person crossing the street, I recognized him as a Special Olympics participant. He has basketball practice at the same time as The Boy. He always says hi to The Boy and me when we see him. Clearly there is some Adult DD housing somewhere in the area as more often than not I recognize the people crossing the street as Special Olympics participants.
This particular person, we'll call him Troy, has some ambulatory issues. So he moves a little slower than the average Joe. (Whoever wanted to be average anyway) As he was making his way in front of the car beside me, the driver honked and made gestures for Troy to hurry along. And my heart broke just a little. I tried to hide it as I smiled and waved at Troy, hoping he would think I was the one that honked. He smiled and waved back, yelling "Hi (The Boy's) mom". But I don't think he was fooled. Not for a minute. And my heart broke a little bit more.
In that instance what I saw was my boy in 15 or 20 years. I see him doing his best to maneuver his way through this world that simply was not made for him. I see him taking care of himself, following the rules, happy with his life and in his world. I see him proudly walking back home from the nearby store with a snack paid for with his own earnings. And then I see some jack@$$ being impatient and unkind. Yelling at "the retard" to hurry up. Honestly, I go from a broken heart to my blood boiling in about 0.6 seconds.
Sometime I want to yell from the rooftops "What is wrong with people?!?!" And I don't mean the ones with developmental disabilities. I mean all the people who are so impatient and unkind. The ones who think those extra 10 or 20 seconds affected their life. Really? What did it actually cost you to wait? Most likely nothing. But I can tell you what it cost the Troy's of the world when you treat them that way.
It costs them their dignity. It costs them their self respect. It costs them their confidence. It costs them their ability to go out into this world which is just as much theirs as it is yours. It eventually costs them the ability to work, socialize, live even semi independently. Because if every time you venture out into the world you are treated like you don't belong, like you aren't good enough; well eventually you believe it. And then you quit trying.
How hard is it to just be kind. Patience doesn't cost a thing. But it can sure make another person's life a whole lot more manageable, and dare I say, even better.
As Ellen says when she ends her show every day "Be kind to one another." Please.
My Side of Typical
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Thursday, June 18, 2015
R and B
The Boy and I were at the pool the other day (where we are nearly every afternoon during the summer) and a girl runs up to him shouting "R! R! Do you remember me? B from first grade?"
This beautiful young lady was in The Boy's kindergarten and first grade classrooms, but moved out of state part way through first grade. He saw her once in second grade when she came back and visited the school. They haven't seen each other in almost 2 years. But as soon as The Boy walked out the door to the pool, she recognized him and ran up to greet him, like they still see each other every day at school.
They played together off and on for the 2 hours we were at the pool that afternoon. Reconnecting a friendship that started in kindergarten. A friendship that started because of the kind, thoughtful heart of this young lady.
The first day of kindergarten Miss "B" watched as I helped The Boy find his name above a hook and then place his backpack on the hook. I could see her out of the corner of my eye with a thoughtful look on her face as she noticed how he needed a little extra help, how he didn't talk much, how he shied away from the other kids and the teacher. I'm not positive, but I'm fairly certain she noticed his death grip on my hand with her keen sense of observation.
On the second day, she was waiting at the door when we arrived. She greeted him by name and said "come sit by me in morning circle." This became the morning routine.
I watched throughout that school year as the relationship developed. I'll admit I was a little concerned that it would be a care taker/dependent relationship. But what I watched unfold was a real friendship. True, there were times when she was clearly his helper. Like the first time he attempted a fire drill (with noise cancelling headphones of course). When the alarm went off, she was immediately at his side, holding his hand, reassuring him that it would be OK. She guided him out the door to the field where the class gathered. Her genuine concern for him was obvious. (I was there in the wings just in case it all went to crap and he needed to escape.)
But I watched them at recess too. Where they played with each other on the playground, laughing and having fun. I watched on field trips when she asked him to sit with her on the bus and they looked at books together. Always books about heavy equipment or airplanes, his favorites. I'm sure these wouldn't have been her choice, but she was probably one of a few 6 year old girls who could name all the construction vehicles. Yes, she tailored their activities to his interests, but she was clearly enjoying it too.
The last day of school as the class walked to the nearby park, they skipped hand in hand, her singing silly songs as they giggled and laughed, stopping to pick flowers or look at a bug. I walked a few paces behind and realized that my boy had a friend. His first friend. A true friend. A friend who valued him and all his unique quirkiness. Someone to sing with and laugh with and skip down the street hand in hand with. All because of a little girl with a beautiful heart.
To those who say kids with ASD struggle to develop true friendships, I give you "R and B":
P.S. I'd like to say the story ends with her having moved back to our town and their friendship continuing to blossom. But no, she was just here for the day. She no longer lives out of state, but in a town a few hours from us. I'm hoping this means she will be back to visit occasionally. And she's no longer a full head shorter than he is. :)
This beautiful young lady was in The Boy's kindergarten and first grade classrooms, but moved out of state part way through first grade. He saw her once in second grade when she came back and visited the school. They haven't seen each other in almost 2 years. But as soon as The Boy walked out the door to the pool, she recognized him and ran up to greet him, like they still see each other every day at school.
They played together off and on for the 2 hours we were at the pool that afternoon. Reconnecting a friendship that started in kindergarten. A friendship that started because of the kind, thoughtful heart of this young lady.
The first day of kindergarten Miss "B" watched as I helped The Boy find his name above a hook and then place his backpack on the hook. I could see her out of the corner of my eye with a thoughtful look on her face as she noticed how he needed a little extra help, how he didn't talk much, how he shied away from the other kids and the teacher. I'm not positive, but I'm fairly certain she noticed his death grip on my hand with her keen sense of observation.
On the second day, she was waiting at the door when we arrived. She greeted him by name and said "come sit by me in morning circle." This became the morning routine.
I watched throughout that school year as the relationship developed. I'll admit I was a little concerned that it would be a care taker/dependent relationship. But what I watched unfold was a real friendship. True, there were times when she was clearly his helper. Like the first time he attempted a fire drill (with noise cancelling headphones of course). When the alarm went off, she was immediately at his side, holding his hand, reassuring him that it would be OK. She guided him out the door to the field where the class gathered. Her genuine concern for him was obvious. (I was there in the wings just in case it all went to crap and he needed to escape.)
But I watched them at recess too. Where they played with each other on the playground, laughing and having fun. I watched on field trips when she asked him to sit with her on the bus and they looked at books together. Always books about heavy equipment or airplanes, his favorites. I'm sure these wouldn't have been her choice, but she was probably one of a few 6 year old girls who could name all the construction vehicles. Yes, she tailored their activities to his interests, but she was clearly enjoying it too.
The last day of school as the class walked to the nearby park, they skipped hand in hand, her singing silly songs as they giggled and laughed, stopping to pick flowers or look at a bug. I walked a few paces behind and realized that my boy had a friend. His first friend. A true friend. A friend who valued him and all his unique quirkiness. Someone to sing with and laugh with and skip down the street hand in hand with. All because of a little girl with a beautiful heart.
To those who say kids with ASD struggle to develop true friendships, I give you "R and B":
P.S. I'd like to say the story ends with her having moved back to our town and their friendship continuing to blossom. But no, she was just here for the day. She no longer lives out of state, but in a town a few hours from us. I'm hoping this means she will be back to visit occasionally. And she's no longer a full head shorter than he is. :)
Monday, March 2, 2015
Dear Couple...
Dear couple standing behind us in line at the grocery store,
I'm sure you are usually very nice, polite, and respectful people. But not always.
We could hear you. I can assure that while you were whispering about my poor parenting and his bad behavior and maybe there is something wrong with him, that there is nothing wrong with my son's hearing. If I heard you, I can guarantee he did too. His hearing is 10 times better than mine. He can hear a hushed conversation in the next room through a closed door. Yes, he heard you talking about him.
And the pointing and furtive glances were a little obvious.
I realize his behavior is different. It can be almost unbearable on the bad days. A meltdown from sensory overload in the middle of a grocery store is not fun for anyone. In the entire store. But today was not a bad day. Today was actually a pretty good day. I would even consider it a win.
You see, he did his very best to keep it together while we stopped at the grocery store for a couple of needed items on our way home. This was after a full day of school and an additional 1.5 hours of speech therapy.
For my son who is autistic, a full 6 hours of school and the speech therapy on top of it pretty much takes everything he has. But I made the decision to push him a little today and make the added stop on the way home. And he was working really hard to maintain during this stop. Yes, he was bouncing around more than most kids would. And yes, he was talking a little too loudly, and about the same thing over and over (wanting to eat the bagel he had selected). And I'm sorry he bumped into you, but he did stop his verbal stimming (look it up) and said "I sorry". So, I honestly think he did a great job. A definite win.
I realize that you didn't understand. Some times I think it's easier when he has a really bad day. At least then it is obvious to most people that he has special needs and is not just misbehaving. But on the good days, when he could almost "pass" his challenges are not as obvious. What looks like a typical kid misbehaving and acting spoiled is actually a child with challenges working really hard to mitigate them. At a time when he deserves praise and acknowledgement, you are judging and condemning him. And me, but I don't really care about me. I've grown pretty thick skin.
So yes, you heard me right as we were walking out of the store. I did tell my son that he did a great job. That I was very proud of him for doing such a good job in the store. I saw you turn around and give me that "look". Was it disapproval, disbelief, disdain? I'm not sure but it definitely wasn't a look of encouragement or understanding, that I know for sure.
I wasn't sure how to respond to your look. I honestly don't encounter that look very often. I'm grateful that we most often encounter understanding, encouragement, and accommodations. So your attitude, your look, took me a little by surprise. Not knowing how to react, I simply smiled at you and guided my son in the other direction while he happily munched on his bagel.
I realize the world is full of uneducated, judgmental people. And I simply do not have time to education all of them. My priority is my son. But I would like to ask of you just one simple thing. Be careful when you judge what you see. Things are not always as they appear. Sometimes a smile of encouragement might be more helpful than a judgmental sneer. A little kindness goes a long way. Just a thought. It might make some mama's day just a little bit brighter.
Signed,
One proud mama of her special boy
I'm sure you are usually very nice, polite, and respectful people. But not always.
We could hear you. I can assure that while you were whispering about my poor parenting and his bad behavior and maybe there is something wrong with him, that there is nothing wrong with my son's hearing. If I heard you, I can guarantee he did too. His hearing is 10 times better than mine. He can hear a hushed conversation in the next room through a closed door. Yes, he heard you talking about him.
And the pointing and furtive glances were a little obvious.
I realize his behavior is different. It can be almost unbearable on the bad days. A meltdown from sensory overload in the middle of a grocery store is not fun for anyone. In the entire store. But today was not a bad day. Today was actually a pretty good day. I would even consider it a win.
You see, he did his very best to keep it together while we stopped at the grocery store for a couple of needed items on our way home. This was after a full day of school and an additional 1.5 hours of speech therapy.
For my son who is autistic, a full 6 hours of school and the speech therapy on top of it pretty much takes everything he has. But I made the decision to push him a little today and make the added stop on the way home. And he was working really hard to maintain during this stop. Yes, he was bouncing around more than most kids would. And yes, he was talking a little too loudly, and about the same thing over and over (wanting to eat the bagel he had selected). And I'm sorry he bumped into you, but he did stop his verbal stimming (look it up) and said "I sorry". So, I honestly think he did a great job. A definite win.
I realize that you didn't understand. Some times I think it's easier when he has a really bad day. At least then it is obvious to most people that he has special needs and is not just misbehaving. But on the good days, when he could almost "pass" his challenges are not as obvious. What looks like a typical kid misbehaving and acting spoiled is actually a child with challenges working really hard to mitigate them. At a time when he deserves praise and acknowledgement, you are judging and condemning him. And me, but I don't really care about me. I've grown pretty thick skin.
So yes, you heard me right as we were walking out of the store. I did tell my son that he did a great job. That I was very proud of him for doing such a good job in the store. I saw you turn around and give me that "look". Was it disapproval, disbelief, disdain? I'm not sure but it definitely wasn't a look of encouragement or understanding, that I know for sure.
I wasn't sure how to respond to your look. I honestly don't encounter that look very often. I'm grateful that we most often encounter understanding, encouragement, and accommodations. So your attitude, your look, took me a little by surprise. Not knowing how to react, I simply smiled at you and guided my son in the other direction while he happily munched on his bagel.
I realize the world is full of uneducated, judgmental people. And I simply do not have time to education all of them. My priority is my son. But I would like to ask of you just one simple thing. Be careful when you judge what you see. Things are not always as they appear. Sometimes a smile of encouragement might be more helpful than a judgmental sneer. A little kindness goes a long way. Just a thought. It might make some mama's day just a little bit brighter.
Signed,
One proud mama of her special boy
Thursday, October 2, 2014
An Open Letter to Our Amazing Neighborhood School
To our amazing neighborhood school family:
After much discussion and deliberation, we have made the very difficult decision to move Bambam to another school with a dedicated special education classroom. As most of you know, Bambam has varied and complicated special needs. We have high hopes that his many needs will be sucsessfully met in his new school. But that didn't make this decision an easy one.
This decision was difficult for many reasons; not the least of which was the thought of leaving this amazing school. You have been his school family for 3 years. During that time he has been accepted, included, respected, and loved by teachers, administrators, support staff, students and parents alike. I cannot imagine a more positive, inclusive environment in any school anywhere.
The student population has been wonderful. Bambam has not been simply tolerated; after all, who really has a goal of being tolerated? He was accepted. His classmates included him when they could, helped him when he needed it, celebrated his accomplishments, watched out for him, and most importantly became his friends. Bambam talks about each and every one of them all the time.
Some students have been in class with Bambam for 3 years, some for 2, some for 1. Some just passed him in the hallway or saw him in the cafeteria or on the playground. It didn't seem to matter. It appears they all know who he is. When we are in town or at the pool inevitably a child will come up and talk to Bambam. I sometimes do not know or recognize them. But they quickly tell me they go to school with him. Kids from kindergarten to 5th grade, they all seem genuinely happy to see him. The world could learn a few things from our little neighborhood school.
And so it is with a heavy heart that we are now closing this chapter and starting a new one. Please know that we could never thank you enough for all each of you have done for Bambam. I only hope that you too have gained something from the experience of knowing our sweet boy.
And, instead of saying goodbye, we will say that we hope to see you around town.
After much discussion and deliberation, we have made the very difficult decision to move Bambam to another school with a dedicated special education classroom. As most of you know, Bambam has varied and complicated special needs. We have high hopes that his many needs will be sucsessfully met in his new school. But that didn't make this decision an easy one.
This decision was difficult for many reasons; not the least of which was the thought of leaving this amazing school. You have been his school family for 3 years. During that time he has been accepted, included, respected, and loved by teachers, administrators, support staff, students and parents alike. I cannot imagine a more positive, inclusive environment in any school anywhere.
The student population has been wonderful. Bambam has not been simply tolerated; after all, who really has a goal of being tolerated? He was accepted. His classmates included him when they could, helped him when he needed it, celebrated his accomplishments, watched out for him, and most importantly became his friends. Bambam talks about each and every one of them all the time.
Some students have been in class with Bambam for 3 years, some for 2, some for 1. Some just passed him in the hallway or saw him in the cafeteria or on the playground. It didn't seem to matter. It appears they all know who he is. When we are in town or at the pool inevitably a child will come up and talk to Bambam. I sometimes do not know or recognize them. But they quickly tell me they go to school with him. Kids from kindergarten to 5th grade, they all seem genuinely happy to see him. The world could learn a few things from our little neighborhood school.
And so it is with a heavy heart that we are now closing this chapter and starting a new one. Please know that we could never thank you enough for all each of you have done for Bambam. I only hope that you too have gained something from the experience of knowing our sweet boy.
And, instead of saying goodbye, we will say that we hope to see you around town.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Patience and Understanding
I've waited a week to write about this. My emotions are still raw. I'm trying so hard to practice the patience and understanding I want others to give Bambam, but honestly I'm struggling with it.
About a week ago, one of my "friends" approached me to discuss an incident that occurred at her house 2 months ago. We were at a gathering that included kids, about 8 total ranging in age from 7 to 13. As she told it, the kids were all in the room above the garage (with no adults present) when Bambam started throwing things. So one of the 13 year old girls thought it was a good idea to LOCK HIM THE BATHROOM. At that point, one of the other 13 year old girls tackled her in order to prevent that from happening (I love that child). As you can imagine, a whole fiasco ensued.
So my "friend" said that basically Bambam, wasn't welcome in her home anymore as he caused this incident. Um WHAT?!?! I have sooooo many issues with this I don't even know where to begin.
The most obvious issue is since when is the victim of a bullying incident the one to blame? And make no mistake this is a severe case of bullying. There is NEVER A REASON TO LOCK A 7 YEAR OLD SPECIAL NEEDS CHILD IN THE BATHROOM. Adults go to jail for that shit. YES, I'm mad.
I gave her this analogy: if there is a bullying incident at a school and another child stops the bully with violence, the school would never call the parent of the bullying victim and tell them he wasn't welcome at their school anymore as he caused the violence. It is ridiculous. Not to mention that in this case the victim is a 7 year old, with significant developmental delays. And the other kids are 13. Really? Your going to blame the weakest link? The one who has no way to defend himself? I am so disappointed.
She then suggested that we get a sitter and leave Bambam at home whenever we have gatherings that include kids. Um yah, because social isolation of anyone different is always a good answer. I think that has been tried a few times over the years. Most of humanity usually has a problem with it.
Look, I get that including Bambam is not always easy. He's big, and noisy, and physical, and can easily get disregulated and loose control of his body. Words often fail him so he uses actions. I get it more than anyone else, I live with him 24/7. I understand that we are asking a lot of our friends, and our friends kids to include him. I know that it takes a healthy amount of patience and understanding to to do so. And maybe we're asking to much, I don't know. But the answer is not excluding him. It just isn't.
Bambam loves other kids. He asks to play with kids every day. When we tell him we are going somewhere, his first comment is "Kids will be there? I play with kids?". He would never purposely hurt another child. There could be a number of reasons why he was throwing (although this part of the story is inconsistent between kids, some say he wasn't out of control at all) but it would never be with the intent of harm. And we've told all the other kids that if Bambam is struggling then they should come get me or Mr. Fixit. Its our job to monitor him. We are happy to stay in the same room with him when ever it is necessary. Or temporarily remove him from a situation that is getting overwhelming for him. There are many positive ways this could have been handled. And yet it wasn't.
So here I sit not really knowing what path to take. I'm mad and sad and disappointed and discouraged. Because if I can't ask my "friends" to offer the patience, understanding, and accommodations necessary to include Bambam, then how can I ever expect anyone else too? Sigh.
About a week ago, one of my "friends" approached me to discuss an incident that occurred at her house 2 months ago. We were at a gathering that included kids, about 8 total ranging in age from 7 to 13. As she told it, the kids were all in the room above the garage (with no adults present) when Bambam started throwing things. So one of the 13 year old girls thought it was a good idea to LOCK HIM THE BATHROOM. At that point, one of the other 13 year old girls tackled her in order to prevent that from happening (I love that child). As you can imagine, a whole fiasco ensued.
So my "friend" said that basically Bambam, wasn't welcome in her home anymore as he caused this incident. Um WHAT?!?! I have sooooo many issues with this I don't even know where to begin.
The most obvious issue is since when is the victim of a bullying incident the one to blame? And make no mistake this is a severe case of bullying. There is NEVER A REASON TO LOCK A 7 YEAR OLD SPECIAL NEEDS CHILD IN THE BATHROOM. Adults go to jail for that shit. YES, I'm mad.
I gave her this analogy: if there is a bullying incident at a school and another child stops the bully with violence, the school would never call the parent of the bullying victim and tell them he wasn't welcome at their school anymore as he caused the violence. It is ridiculous. Not to mention that in this case the victim is a 7 year old, with significant developmental delays. And the other kids are 13. Really? Your going to blame the weakest link? The one who has no way to defend himself? I am so disappointed.
She then suggested that we get a sitter and leave Bambam at home whenever we have gatherings that include kids. Um yah, because social isolation of anyone different is always a good answer. I think that has been tried a few times over the years. Most of humanity usually has a problem with it.
Look, I get that including Bambam is not always easy. He's big, and noisy, and physical, and can easily get disregulated and loose control of his body. Words often fail him so he uses actions. I get it more than anyone else, I live with him 24/7. I understand that we are asking a lot of our friends, and our friends kids to include him. I know that it takes a healthy amount of patience and understanding to to do so. And maybe we're asking to much, I don't know. But the answer is not excluding him. It just isn't.
Bambam loves other kids. He asks to play with kids every day. When we tell him we are going somewhere, his first comment is "Kids will be there? I play with kids?". He would never purposely hurt another child. There could be a number of reasons why he was throwing (although this part of the story is inconsistent between kids, some say he wasn't out of control at all) but it would never be with the intent of harm. And we've told all the other kids that if Bambam is struggling then they should come get me or Mr. Fixit. Its our job to monitor him. We are happy to stay in the same room with him when ever it is necessary. Or temporarily remove him from a situation that is getting overwhelming for him. There are many positive ways this could have been handled. And yet it wasn't.
So here I sit not really knowing what path to take. I'm mad and sad and disappointed and discouraged. Because if I can't ask my "friends" to offer the patience, understanding, and accommodations necessary to include Bambam, then how can I ever expect anyone else too? Sigh.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Faith
"What ever God you believe in, we all come from the same one"
That is a lyric from Mackelmore's song Same Love. Now, don't go thinking I'm so hip and cool that I listen to rap. I'm a 40 something, mother of 3. I don't have time to listen to rap. But my teenagers do. And sometimes, they will come to me with a song and want me to listen to the lyrics. This is one such song. And I love this lyric.
When I was growing up, I was trotted off to church every Sunday with my family. My dad had attended Seminary. We had bookshelf after bookshelf of bibles and books about the bible in our house. And although he wasn't a full time pastor, he was a certified lay speaker and gave plenty of sermons. My siblings and I spent our youth attending vacation bible school, church camp, youth group, we all went through Confirmation. It was a family affair.
But, and this is a pretty big but, religion was never "crammed down our throats". What was important to our parents was that we have faith. And to them faith was different than religion. As they had learned in their lives, faith can get you though many things in life and it was important to them that we have that.
I remember as a teenager showing interest in a different church, one my best friend attended. My parents were very open to the idea. As my dad said, "as far as I'm concerned, we are all worshiping the same God. Find a church that makes you comfortable and helps your faith to grow." He had no interest in forcing us to go to his church, or adopt his doctrines. What he wanted was for us to have faith. How we defined that, chose to show that, to worship; well that was entirely up to us.
When I heard this lyric in Mackelmore's song, it reminded me so much of my dad. My dad, who now at age 80, is lost to Alzheimer's. As far as I'm concerned, he was a brilliant man. He was open and tolerant, accepting and loving. He was years ahead of his time. I love you daddy, and I miss you.
That is a lyric from Mackelmore's song Same Love. Now, don't go thinking I'm so hip and cool that I listen to rap. I'm a 40 something, mother of 3. I don't have time to listen to rap. But my teenagers do. And sometimes, they will come to me with a song and want me to listen to the lyrics. This is one such song. And I love this lyric.
When I was growing up, I was trotted off to church every Sunday with my family. My dad had attended Seminary. We had bookshelf after bookshelf of bibles and books about the bible in our house. And although he wasn't a full time pastor, he was a certified lay speaker and gave plenty of sermons. My siblings and I spent our youth attending vacation bible school, church camp, youth group, we all went through Confirmation. It was a family affair.
But, and this is a pretty big but, religion was never "crammed down our throats". What was important to our parents was that we have faith. And to them faith was different than religion. As they had learned in their lives, faith can get you though many things in life and it was important to them that we have that.
I remember as a teenager showing interest in a different church, one my best friend attended. My parents were very open to the idea. As my dad said, "as far as I'm concerned, we are all worshiping the same God. Find a church that makes you comfortable and helps your faith to grow." He had no interest in forcing us to go to his church, or adopt his doctrines. What he wanted was for us to have faith. How we defined that, chose to show that, to worship; well that was entirely up to us.
When I heard this lyric in Mackelmore's song, it reminded me so much of my dad. My dad, who now at age 80, is lost to Alzheimer's. As far as I'm concerned, he was a brilliant man. He was open and tolerant, accepting and loving. He was years ahead of his time. I love you daddy, and I miss you.
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