Life in the Slow Lane
Published April 09, 2009 @ 12:20AM PT
Like me, Annie Lubliner Lehmann is the mother of a son on the autism spectrum, Jonah, who---from what she writes in the April 7th New York Times---reminds me much of my own son. Charlie, like Jonah, is a boy, a young man, of few words and seems to "[care] most about food"; Charlie, too, has had years of instruction in reading; he is no reader. And Jim and I, like Jonah's mother, have been parents who've tried a great many things to help our child. Like her, it's too often seemed that "each hope was followed by disappointment" and that "[w]e might as well have been chasing butterflies with a torn net."
By the time Jonah was a teenager, Lehmann writes that "we were worn out and frustrated, not very far from where we’d started." And so they "decided to back off and began taking cues from him." Rather than always correcting Jonah so that he was being "appropriate," Lehman writes about doing the same activities as they had always done but "without a checklist of goals," so that Jonah was finally free to enjoy things for their own sake." She recounts how, while reading an old book with the story of "Cinderella," she paused at the word "glass," waiting for her son to fill in the word "slipper"----and he said "of milk." Lehmann continues:
I smiled, and I’m smiling still. For Jonah had made a student of his teacher. I would never again be able to read or think of “Cinderella” without seeing a tumbler of milk on the palace steps.
Jonah turned 25 last fall, and when I look at him I can’t help wondering if the past years weren’t some heaven-directed scheme meant to humble us and teach us the value of acceptance. Understanding that we couldn’t change him had changed us.
Charlie's not even half Jonah's age yet. It was starting when he was 5 and didn't go to kindergarten that we saw that Charlie's education was indeed not going to be "typical." As he was 7, 8, 9, and up, challenges came and went and reappeared. Some faded into memories, reviewed with relief; others have endured, as have everyone's efforts to help Charlie.
Along the way, we've been learning to live life in the slow lane and so I'm joining journalist and author Carl Honoré in speaking in praise of slowness.
As Honoré says in The Power of Slow on yesterday's Etsy blog:
The Slow philosophy is not about doing everything at a snail’s pace. It’s about seeking to do everything at the right speed. Savoring the hours and minutes rather than just counting them. Doing everything as well as possible, instead of as fast as possible. It’s about quality over quantity in everything from work to food to parenting. It is about forging deep and meaningful connections with the self, with others and with the world around us. You don’t have to quit your job, move to the country and grow organic carrots to join the Slow movment. You can be Slow anywhere, because Slow is a state of mind.
Life with Charlie means that we've had to slow down. Taking care of Charlie has meant having to refocus all of our attention and energies to his needs; taking care of Charlie has determined job choices, real estate choices, and many more. Further, taking of Charlie means slowing down (and, occasionally, revving it up) to his pace: When Charlie didn't walk or talk "on time," and when he didn't go to kindergarten, we realized that we had to let go of milestones that we rush to judge "childhood development" and to assess normality by.
With Charlie, you learn that you can spend a half-hour walking back and forth across a playground bridge, or just standing and looking at unknown vistas. Thanks to Charlie, who so often just likes to stand in the shallows of the ocean or kneel and press his whole body into the sand, you get to spend a lot of time on the beach and contemplate the waves. Beside Charlie, you get to observe every type of sushi in the case, and read the labels a couple of times over.
And when you're with Charlie, everything is real. Charlie, as I've noted, has minimal interest in the computer and in watching TV and DVDs---he's not a child who's got a good percentage of his mind in a virtual reality. Charlie's main activities (and, accordingly, Jim's and mine) all involve actually doing things---bike rides, walks, eating (what could be realer.......), checking out piers on the west side of New York, shooting baskets, playing piano.
I used to be the sort of person who always had book in her bag, to squeeze in a paragraph here or there when I had an "idle moment" or "free time." I've had many moments with Charlie (can't exactly call them "free time") when I've been standing around in a grassy field or on a suburban sidewalk while he's off exploring a puddle or a snowy hill, and I've had "nothing" do but think, work over the latest worries; daydream. And even, not think about anything at all, but just savor the blue sky and the breeze, and the time together with my boy, each moment by slow moment.
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Comments (15)
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Author
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Kristina is a Classics professor in Jersey City, New Jersey, a blogger (formerly at AutismVox), a translator (of Virgil), and an advocate every day for her son, Charlie.
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My son is 10 and I think it was last summer when I started to learn to enjoy the peace that came from the moments of keeping an eye on him while he moved at a slower pace than most kids. I wrote a sonnet about it:
Tubing Broad Creek
My feet submerged, find sun amidst the shade
The rushing noise drowns calls if I would try
No matter - his response would not be made
I stand guard waiting for him to float by
The cooling water rushes - needs to go
The boy stretches my gaze, I stand and wait
Like Holden in the rye my time moves slow'
A catcher, lone and patient is my fate
When young I could not fathom how he'd dream
To block the cliff and let them play all day
I now find comfort standing in this stream
Sun warmed and water cooled I gaze and sway
In stillness watch, commitment holds no fear
In sparseness my true purpose becomes clear
Posted by Cornelia Rivers on 04/09/2009 @ 08:33AM PT
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_thank you_!
wishing that more of my posts evoked poetry in the comments
Posted by Kristina Chew on 04/09/2009 @ 05:20PM PT
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_thank you_!
wishing that more of my posts evoked poetry in the comments
Posted by Kristina Chew on 04/09/2009 @ 05:20PM PT
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Wow... really like this post. Lovely. (I really like that picture of the snail, too, I think snails are very cute).
There's definitely something to be said for "stopping to smell the roses." And look at the roses, and feel how soft the petals are. And just experience stuff around you.
Posted by Fleecy B. on 04/09/2009 @ 08:53AM PT
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I was initially thinking of a turtle image for this post but once I started looking at snail pix, that decided it.
Posted by Kristina Chew on 04/09/2009 @ 05:22PM PT
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Think Autism- Think Half Full
http://ezinearticles.com/?Think-Autism---Think-Half-Full&id=2112179
I try to take this on as a stance toward my life in the slow lane with my 25 year old son with autism.
Posted by Gayle Nobel on 04/09/2009 @ 09:54AM PT
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thank you so much, Gayle----all of the glasses in our household are definitely half full.
Posted by Kristina Chew on 04/09/2009 @ 05:23PM PT
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The picture of the snail and Cornelia's poem about her son are beautiful and peaceful. You feel the connection to yourself when you experience them. Our children teach us many things that are important to know. We learn a lot about life and ourselves by stopping "to smell the roses" and to be part of nature. Taking the path of least resistance, experiencing the moment, learning patience in difficult situations are some of the things I have learned from my son. The child's gift of a smile, laugh, joy can light up your heart. Differently-abled children and children have many things in common. There are layback states I have visited and have lived in. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. The current economy has taught us the value of a simplier way of life. Everyone is truly living at this moment in the "Slow Lane" of life. Great blog.
Posted by L I on 04/09/2009 @ 10:02AM PT
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I'm thankful that life with Charlie has taught me to, yes, slow down and take things in---I missed so much before.
Posted by Kristina Chew on 04/09/2009 @ 05:21PM PT
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@Gayle. I read your link and really enjoyed your article, Think Autism - Think Half Full
I especially like your words, "if you have that problem, "autism will take care of that...". The words in your article are written by a person who is Army Strong from autism. The Army experience changes you and sets you apart from others who have not had this experience.
Our nephew just joined the military two weeks ago and we talk to my son's high school friend who has been Iraq seven years as a pilot. I told them I would think it must be difficult. These two young men are more positive about being in the military than me. So I am not sure of your title but I know you both are on an adventure of your lives. Thanks for the link.
Posted by L I on 04/09/2009 @ 10:25AM PT
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"Army Strong".. I like that.. never thought of it that way but yes, I guess I am! though I've never been in the military.
I am mom and coauthor of "It's All About Attitude" Loving and Living Well with Autism... we share a our personal stories coming from a different perspective than the norm.
my site is http://www.autismwithattitude.com
"Army Strong".. that might have to be one of my new mottos..so thank you!
Posted by Gayle Nobel on 04/09/2009 @ 11:22AM PT
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@Gayle. I really like your new book title, ""It's All About Attitude" Loving and Living Well with Autism... we share a our personal stories coming from a different perspective than the norm".
I think a different perspective of normal is something not too many people have thought about but is needed. If we could all figure out a way to live well with autism there would be much happiness in the world for everyone.
I have never been in the military. It was amazing my mentally retarded brother who I took care of spent 4 years in the navy. I didn't know when he lived with us that he would make that choice. I certainly didn't think about swimming as a prerequisite for the navy. He had to learn to swim in 3 days or would be left to fend for himself during the navy swimming test. He saw what happened to others. I don't know how to swim but he made it. He did something I would have freaked out over. I would drown if it was me.
I am looking forward to reading that book. I admire our kids. They are our heroes. Autism doesn't stop or define their lives. They live life on their terms not ours. Kids have an indomitable spirit. "If you say that someone has an indomitable spirit, you admire them because they never give up or admit that they have been defeated." Each child strives on their own to achieve their own personal goals of life. We are army strong when we face different, challenging adventures.
Posted by L I on 04/09/2009 @ 12:48PM PT
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What a beautiful post. And thanks also to Cornelia for sharing her gorgeous poetry.
For me and Pete, it's not just the slow lane -- it's also just so *different* in ways that I find delightful every day. I feel so blessed and so changed in the best sense of the word for being his mom.
Posted by Karen D on 04/09/2009 @ 12:51PM PT
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i just wanted to take a quote from the book, "It's All About Attitude" by Gayle Nobel. I think these words are powerful.
"Our thoughts are much more powerful than you think. Like a massive iceberg that is mostly hidden beneath the surface, it's the part underwater that you can't see that sinks the ship. The attitude you have will determine the actions you take which will determine the results you get. Your attitude is one of the key success factors in your life. This is true for everyone - not just families with autism.
Its All About Attitude will help you to look past the hurdles, connect with the bright side of life, and give you the keys on how to shift - no matter what is happening."
Changing a worn out core value that we have about life can change much. All we have to do is shift our attitude. Perhaps that is how we change the world's view about autism.
Replace depressing with optimistic thoughts. Mother Teresa did it in India with the dying. People flew down to work with the "poorest of the poor" and their lives were enriched. Their experiences in India nurtured their minds.
I think it is helpful to see what autism has in common with regular families. There are great things in which all families are alike. I still have a hard time with "feeling so blessed" but I know that autism changes our lives in powerful ways. I have gifts that regular families don't have. Someday if I can embrace the "feeling blessed" I will see the joy rather than the difficulties. (Maybe this is what is meant by the half full glass). I can tell that Karen D has reached the joy of autism.
My last thought is the recent CNN news story about the Larry King Live interview with Michael J. Fox advocating for Parkinson Disease. He said that how his body feels is different than how his mind feels. He might be having a difficult day physically but he can still have a great mind day. In other words my interpretation is that every day will be a great day for him regardless of the obstacle.. After 7 years (1992-1998) of feeling bad he has just written a book on being optimistic. Optimism is a powerful tool in his life.
Posted by L I on 04/09/2009 @ 03:20PM PT
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Snails are so cute.
That is true of any child or any person. And is a very good thing to say. Too many people try to force people into some sort of mould, especially with children.
Your attitude is cool.
Posted by Shondolyn (Synesthesia) Gibson on 04/09/2009 @ 06:43PM PT
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