WTG, Russell!
At 7, Russell is at least 2 or 3 steps ahead of Charlie, 5 3/4. Literally and figuratively, I think. We're still working on getting Charlie up and walking without human or mechanical assistance, i.e. holding somebody's fingers or supported by his walker.
But we've signed him up for Miracle League baseball.
And for quite some time Charlie eagerly scoots his cute little butt over to his mommy when she tells him it's time for snack.
That thing from George Will on Jon's dog that I looked at earlier today made reference to the sense of isolation in the human experience that may be intensified for people, like our kids, who are dealing with a bit more challenge than most. Oh, for those who don't know, I think things Russell and Charlie have in common are Down syndrome, visual impairment, and being somewhere on the autistic spectrum.
Anyway, that George Will thing reminded me of a Greg Palmer thing, also to be found on that Riverbend site, well, wouldn't you know, I can't get to that site just now, but here's a snip from same piece, The End of Cute, taken from
www.fathersnetwork.org/page.php?page=633&SESSION=39a0b2f05ea5d151e0e4bd2207da4e5b&s=0<<I have an image of Ned's life as an adult that gives me peace -- and in one sense he provided it. As I said, we read to him every night, and one of the things he and I have been reading for years is four or five poems a night. We have our favorites. Last year in his English class, one Friday the teacher gave her students the weekend assignment to find a poem that meant something to them, and memorize it to recite in class during the following week. Ned put his hand up, and the teacher started to tell him how he didn't have to do the assignment if he didn't want to. Ned said, "I'm ready now," and she, shocked but expecting something in the "Roses are red, violets are blue" vein, said "Go ahead." Ned stood and recited this, by Georgia Roberts Durston:
When the pale moon hides and the wild wind wails,
and over the tree-tops the nighthawk sails,
the gray wolf sits on the world's far rim,
And howls; and it seems to comfort him.
The wolf is a lonely soul, you see,
No beast in the wood, nor bird in the tree,
But shuns his path. In the windy gloom
they give him plenty, and plenty of room.
So he sits with his long lean face to the sky
Watching the ragged clouds go by.
There in the night, alone, apart,
Singing the song of his lone, wild heart.
Far away, on the world's dark rim
He howls, and it seems to comfort him.
I didn't know Ned had memorized "The Wolf" until his teacher sent a note home telling us how astonished, and moved, she was by it. And I guess I don't know why Ned likes it so much. I know I see it as something about him as an adult, maybe shunned, maybe alone, but comforted by his own sweet howl, by the singing in his own heart. >>
I doubt that Charlie will ever be as advanced as Ned Palmer. And he may never catch up with Russell. But I think he does have his own sweet howl.
'Course, it would be nice if Russell and Charlie would learn to say "mama," or some approximation thereof.
Cheers,
Bob