Drumbeats
Jim and I were running to catch a D train under the Port Authority bus terminal on Friday night when we heard the drumming: “Those guys are always here,” Jim noted of two men playing upside down white plastic buckets with sticks. One man wore a black cap; his drumming involved some acrobatic footwork (”$5 per photo” said a handwritten piece of cardboard). A large circle of people were watching as I glanced back. The train screeched in; the strong fast beats kept going.
Would Charlie have stopped and stood, shoulders scrunched up and eyes squinting, to take in the sound and the sensations?
I ask because Charlie was not with us, but home in New Jersey with my parents, and thinking about how Charlie thinks is a reflex for me. Jim’s putting on a sort of mini-conference about Catholic studies and 20th century culture and history this weekend and—-something that has not happened in a while—-we stayed overnight in NYC. I’ve been hoping that Charlie is able to go to sleep without seeing us. (Last time we went out late with my parents babysitting, Charlie, wrapped in a blanket, was kneeling right in the front of the door when we walked in, tired eyes wide open.)
I think Charlie would have liked the drumming—earlier on Friday I had seen this personal drum table from Musical Furnishings on the web and thought, this could make meal time very interesting, or at least more rhythmic. What might a drum table do for learning flashcards or building with blocks, with a therapist thumping out the beats to a tune soon as a child identified a card or made a structure?
Charlie’s always been a table-tapper with his fingers and our downstairs neighbor has (ahem) noted that Charlie’s a bit of a foot stomper too (in a Riverdance kind of way). He’s got some kind of need to get the ground going beneath his feet, or the table beneath his fingers. As luck would have it, Jim recently brought his conga drum up from the downstairs storage—though maybe we should wait till we’re in a first floor apartment before starting Charlie drumming.
No wonder he likes to be in the subway, where the beats keep going, and there’s always something new to see and hear, and a train to catch, just around the corner.
Tags: alarm clock, asd, asperger, autism, clock, drum, furniture, invention, new york, pdd-nos, subway, Technology, Time
7 opinions for Drumbeats
Daisy
Mar 29, 2008 at 8:58 am
Charlie’s inner musician is strong!
Karen
Mar 29, 2008 at 10:16 am
Love that urban music. Pete is a drummer too (and a lover of most music as well). Once you are mom, I think it’s hard NOT to think of how your children would react to something! I do that all the time, too.
mayfly
Mar 29, 2008 at 10:20 am
Ah music. It’s bittersweet for me. When my daughter, was very young we used to sing Red River Valley together. I’d start off,
“From this valley, they say you are …” and she would sing “going” Overtime I would sing less and less of the song until she would sing nearly entire thing. We had also had a book with six or seven verses of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” She would sing those as well. That stopped when her autism hit.
She no longer sang along, but she still loved music. It often calmed her worst tantrums. At many social engagements where all of us were asked to come, I would spend my time singing to her. I not much of a singer, out-of-tune, and with no sense of rhythm, but my daughter is my number one fan.
Now she often makes noises in the rhythm with the music to which she is listening, and lately has likes to sing “Yeah, yeah, yeah” as the music plays. The other day she clapped briefly along in time with the music.
My daughter used to foot stomp quite a bit. Much to the chagrin of our downstairs neighbors. She also tipped over the dining table quite a bit. Relations were pretty sour between us and our neighbors. We finally moved after our daughter turned on the hot water tap in her bathroom and we didn’t notice until the steam set off the smoke alarm. I rushed down stairs, knocked and rang the bell. When the door opened I could see a sheet of water extending from her ceiling to the floor.
We bought a house, paid too much, but we weren’t going to live in an apartment again. Now, Kassie could stomp, and not hear “Kassie ,stop!”, or “Kassie, No!” The move erased so much of the tension in the home, and was a huge contributor to the progress she’s made.
Even now, when she’s having an “episode” music is often what brings a smile back to her face.
Marla
Mar 29, 2008 at 11:55 am
I know what you mean. I do the same thing. Even when I am watching a show…if I see a certain scene I think she would like I want to show it to her.
Ms. Clark
Mar 29, 2008 at 3:39 pm
http://www.americasfavoritemom.com/mothers-day-2008/mom/Ruth-S-6383#
Here’s a mom who is in America’s favorite mom contest. The mom is autistic and her 2 sons are also.
You can vote for her, up until March 31, apparently once per day.
Ms. Clark
Mar 29, 2008 at 3:41 pm
Sorry for the spam-like comment. I should have elaborated on it more. :-) I just found out about it from GRASP.
The Power of a Bike
Mar 31, 2008 at 5:46 am
[…] and asked all of guests to move their chairs in together so that two more people could squeeze in. Friday night Jim and I stayed over in a hotel: “He went to sleep ok but Saturday […]
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