So Is He
You are (as we were this afternoon) on the beach. You are feeling simply grateful to be standing there and watching your child (as I was watching Charlie, with Jim at his side, swimming far out in the ocean and diving headfirst into the bottom of an oncoming wave).
You notice another child–a few inches shorter than Charlie—is shoving her hands under the sand and lying on her belly in the water. Over and over. She stands up and does not exactly run towards a rock jetty, her arms straight and stiff.
You think, maybe she is autistic, too?
You go back to watching your son getting knocked under by a wave and emerging from the foam, wiping salt water out of his eyes and grinning and slogging out further into the water. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a certain blue swimsuited girl running down the beach.
It’s the little girl you were watching. You glance at her relatives who are looking everywhere and pointing and turning, faces increasingly frantic. “She went that way,” you say, pointing. They don’t hear you, so you move closer: “She’s over there! To the right! There she is!” And her dad takes off.
Her mother comes over to you and says thank you. “She’s autistic,” she says.
Your husband has walked up with Charlie beside him.
“So is he.”
I often wonder, when I see a child pacing or holding their body or their head in a certain way, and then when I see a parent nearby who is a little attentive for a child that big—-maybe that child is on the autism spectrum? Or maybe I, as an autism mother, am reading too much into what I am seeing. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut.
After today on the beach, I think I would rather speak up.
18 opinions for So Is He
Lisa Cohen
Jul 4, 2006 at 3:33 am
This is a lovely story of connection, Kristina. I am glad you spoke up.
best,
lisa
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 4, 2006 at 7:34 am
It was a great thing to connect with them—-only wished we could have talked longer; Charlie was done swimming and calling for “frenzzz fries!”.
Ashley Morgan
Jul 4, 2006 at 8:16 am
What an amazing story. I find that I can rarely look at children in public without my developmental glasses on. I know I do this to a fault. I wonder if I find less joy than others going to the beach, when I know way too much.
As always, I love reading your perspective. I got the Vox hooked up on my Yahoo page. Thanks!
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 4, 2006 at 8:40 am
Thanks for linking Autism Vox!
It was the first time for Jim and me to have another parent be the first to say “my child is autistic” before we’d said a word about Charlie.
Ashley Morgan
Jul 4, 2006 at 5:05 pm
Really? I’ve had that happen ALL the time. Or “we don’t know what’s wrong with her”, or “he’s not talking yet, we don’t know why”. I think I have a stamp on my forward that says ‘talk to me about your problems’.
Once, on a shuttle bus at Disney World, a little girl sat next to Leo. I started talking to her a bit, asking her about her day, typical stuff. I realized she was different right away, but it was irrelevent - I was enjoying myself. It took my mind off the lack of air conditioning to have a little chat. The mom lit up, and right away said she had Autism, and began telling me about her issues. I didn’t say anything about Leo. My husband just shook his head, amazed how I find “our peeps”.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 4, 2006 at 7:26 pm
We’ve really always been the ones to say, “Charlie’s autistic.” Sometimes because Charlie has been humming or not responding or walking in the middle of a parking lot with a car coming towards him (while I’m trying to pull him to the side). Am always glad to be among those who understand.
Anne
Jul 4, 2006 at 8:42 pm
I think this is what Autism Diva calls “autie-spotting.” It’s great fun.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 4, 2006 at 9:08 pm
It makes one feel less alone in the world!
Ashley Morgan
Jul 5, 2006 at 4:41 am
Autie-spotting? LOL. That’s terrific. Thanks for making my day! I love made up words - they often have more meaning. Ashley
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 5, 2006 at 7:01 am
Saw another child on the beach yesterday—-
Ashley Morgan
Jul 5, 2006 at 11:16 am
It never ends! Ashley
Ashley Morgan
Jul 5, 2006 at 11:17 am
It never ends! I think you’ve got something on your forhead too….ha ha
Ashley
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 5, 2006 at 11:40 am
Aut-dar?
Ashley
Jul 5, 2006 at 3:39 pm
Perfecto! I think I like that better than my Cold Stone ice cream I’m eating right now (even though it’s my fave)
Vidya Ganesh
Jul 6, 2006 at 1:05 am
Thanks for this beautiful story Kristina. :).
This also reminded me of a very touching story that I read sometime back, by Amy Flowers Umble called “Strangers Bonded By Autism”
Kristina Chew, PhD
Jul 6, 2006 at 6:41 pm
Vidya,
Thank you! Do you have a reference for the story?
Vidya Ganesh
Jul 7, 2006 at 4:02 am
Hi Kristina, here’s the link to the story.
http://fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/2006/042006/04182006/181657
Autism Vox » The Meaning of Autismland: Why I see autism everywhere
Feb 8, 2007 at 3:36 am
[…] And, in truth, that is not exactly what “Autismland” means most of all to me. When Jim and I first started using the word, it would be when we would be out, nowhere in particular, and realize that Charlie was not the only “special” or “spectrum” child (as this moment on the beach last summer) or, indeed, person of any age; when we would see puzzle ribbon magnets on a half-dozen cars in one parking lot here in New Jersey; when Charlie did something that we had known him to do on occasion and even understood a little, but that yet was completely surprising to bystanders and the friend we were having dinner with (Charlie, after a nice dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant, once ran down a street in Philadelphia’s Chinatown tearing off his clothes; Jim caught him before he got down to his shirt). “Autismland,” Jim and I would nod, or shrug, to each other. As in, autism is so much more visible—-autistic children and persons can be so much more visible—than they used to be: There is a lot more autism, just as there is a lot more awareness of autism. […]
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