It’s nostalgia week here at the old Star Chamber. Watching the Red Sox disintegrate over the past few weeks took me back to a time before 2004 when anguish and baseball were essentially the same word here in Boston. It reminded me of an essay I wrote back in 2003: What Being the Father of an Autistic Son Taught Me About Being a Red Sox Fan (and vice versa).
That was eight years ago. The Red Sox have enjoyed some great seasons since then, the sting of recent events notwithstanding. But my son Jay continues to be a challenge. He still has no words to tell us what’s bothering him, whether it’s hunger, a headache, or a terrible sore throat (we learned just today that he has strep and may have had it for a while), so he gets frustrated. We do too. As a growing 12-year-old, he is bigger and stronger, much stronger than he was in 2003. When he gets angry and aggressive, keeping him and the people around him safe can be a terrifying exercise. It’s not an experience I’d recommend.
That’s what the Autism Speaks walk is all about: stopping other dads in the future, other moms, and other families from having to deal with raging choking sobbing face of autism, with the thrashing digging claws of autism, with the enduring biting sadness of autism. This Sunday, October 2nd, we’ll be doing our annual pilgrimage to Suffolk Downs to take part in the 2011 Walk Now for Autism event.
Come join us! Or, hey, here’s another idea. If you can’t make it (and I know how busy you are), then you can have some of your money join us instead. We promise to show it a good time, and then we’ll send it off to Autism Speaks to help kids like Jay. Your money will have fun, you’ll feel good, I’ll be happy. Everybody wins!
Here’s the part where you reach for your wallet and click on a link:
I’ll conclude by adding the note my wife Wendy sent out this year: