After my mother had discussions with a group of women in a Consciousness Raising support group, she gained a greater appreciation for my situation.  Some of the other women talked about their teenage children yielding to peer pressure and becoming hooked on drugs.  My mother was grateful that I never succumbed to drugs. She learned that adolescents without disabilities such as mine tend to be more prone to peer pressure due to a greater need to conform to what is popular for greater acceptance.  I always was suspicious of all hard drugs and also even the more legal stuff, such as alcohol and tobacco.  By age 14, I had already read and saw horror stories of drug use in the news.  I vowed never to get involved with them.  Instead, I became addicted to food and thoughts.

With my knowledge of the harm that drugs can cause, I was adamant about ever becoming involved with them.  I never succumbed to peer pressure though I hardly ever hung out with the drug-taking crowd.  One day when a teenage boy smoked marijuana he tried to persuade me to try one.  I resisted as he harped about a mental high it can produced.  I knew that such a state was only temporary and followed by a mental low.  After a few minutes, I took the joint to my lips for a second without inhaling, to show him that it was the most I would try.

It didn’t make sense for me to do something that I knew would be bad just because it was popular and many of my peers were doing it.  Generally, since those with autism have less of a need to conform to the society’s standards, they are less influenced by the things done by peers.  That is why there is much less drug and gang activity among the autism population.  Since I didn’t have many friends anyway, it didn’t matter whether I took part in their harmful activities or not just to gain more acceptances.  It was always much more important for me to do what was right and avoid what was wrong than to be accepted by people by doing wrong.

In another instance when I was driven to a Seals and Crofts concert, I received a dose of marijuana from inhaling second-hand smoke.  The high that I had heard about wasn’t what I felt.  Instead I felt a weird form of tranquility.  I felt somewhat out of touch with reality.  I didn’t need this feeling since I was weird enough as it was.  I was afraid that the altered mental states from drugs could ruin my mind if I was already screwed up enough without taking anything.

Though I was always wary of cigarettes, I was curious of what it felt like to smoke one when a pack of them was left by company at our place when I was fourteen.  When I lit one and brought it to my lips, I started to cough like crazy.  I wasn’t able to take any puffs without coughing my throat out.  I put the cigarette out and never smoked again.  It was hard for me to understand how others can get started and then become hooked.  Apparently I was highly sensitive to cigarette smoke.

 

When Bob was home in Pennsylvania from school, he met his girlfriend, named Jean, at the tennis courts in our development.  They both were very much into physical fitness, jogging and playing tennis together.  Jean was highly intelligent, a valedictorian in her high school class and had graduated from Penn State University with honors in chemistry.  She was accepting of my father and me.  She had custody of her two daughters from her previous marriage.  They lived only three units from us in the same cluster.

Jean’s children came to our place often to be baby-sat by my mother who was very good with them.  Unfortunately, I mostly ignored them since I was very introverted and absorbed in my studies.  But, I baby sat them at their place a few evenings when they were in bed while their mother was out with my brother.  They played very well with Tej and Lisa when they visited us from Ohio.  They were all girls and close in age.  I enjoyed watching the girls running around together, though I hardly interacted with them.

In July of 1975, Bob, Jean, and her girls moved to Washington State for its recreational activities in the mountains and to live close to her brother and family.  I felt sad when they left us.  I missed them so much that I wrote letters to them regularly.  They wrote us lovely letters.  I felt that since they lived much further away than Gail and Ron, that I would see them much less often. 

Jean left us some furniture which came at a good time, since my parents were planning to separate only a few weeks later.  Though it was very sad that my parents weren’t able to work disagreements out for a happy marriage, the separation wasn’t a surprise and I had learned to take everything in my stride.

 

My mother, who worked in the library of Housing and Urban Development with the federal government in Philadelphia, was transferred to the main branch in Washington D.C.  I went with her to move to Northern Virginia, outside the District of Columbia.  She was much more capable of offering me emotional and social support than my father.  I didn’t mind the move.  We moved to Annandale, Virginia, into a lovely two-bedroom apartment with a breakfast/family room, close to where my mother could catch a bus to her job.  The neighborhood was pleasant with a nice park near by.

We lived close to old friends of my childhood from New York, Rolly and Anita and their two younger teenage daughters who were in Alexandria, Virginia.  We got together often for picnics in a park with community gardens where they had a pea patch.  Rolly provided all of the food since he was an excellent cook and baker.  They were very generous, bringing us produce from their garden and leaving us with all sorts of home-made breads and desserts.  During our meals together, I pigged out as much as possible since I loved the food so much.  It was my main focus of the gatherings.

I didn’t socialize with the girls much, since I was more interested in eating, studying, crocheting and listening to the adults.  I brought my home work along.  It was amazing that the youngest girl whom I hadn’t seen for twelve years had grown so much, from age two to fourteen.  Characteristic of autism is greater interest in things than in people.  When we were at Rolly’s place for home-made pizza, the girls played their rock n’ roll records which I liked.  As dinner was prepared, I listened to the music and went into a trance.  I tuned into records much more than to other people.  I felt uncomfortable when others spoke to me when I listened to my favorite songs.  It was much easier to pay attention to things than to people.

 

I had one year of high school left following my eighteenth birthday since I was a year behind in high school credits.  I attended Oakton High School in Vienna, Virginia which wasn’t as good as Hatboro-Horsham High.  It didn’t have as much of a selection of courses and levels of challenge in the required core ones, but, I was able to adjust well.  I realized that each school was different.

My French class was challenging with more quizzes given orally which I had great difficulty in since I had problems with auditory processing.  I felt discourage since I didn’t like to perform poorly in anything even though I did well enough in my written work to make up for my weakness to get a good grade.  I thought about dropping French and discussed it with my high school guidance counselor who was friendly and caring.  She encouraged me to keep up with it since it was required for admission into many colleges and good for well-rounded learning.  I decided not to give up.

Another concern I had about my studies, was that I tended to get sleepy in my afternoon classes, especially right after lunch.  The high carbohydrate content in my meals was factors in drowsiness, besides my natural tendency to be at my low ebb that time of the day.  I worried that my performance in my chemistry class wasn’t as high as it should have been, since I had it directly after lunch when I was most tired.  I read an article in Scientific American that different people function at their best during different times in a day according to the circadian rhythm.  This gave me an idea of switching chemistry’s time slot with my art class that I had the first period in the morning when I was the freshest.  I didn’t need to concentrate as much in art as I did in chemistry.  This changing around of schedule, especially in midterm wasn’t allowed, even though both of the teachers had the classes during the alternate time slots that I wanted.  I understood that switching would involve more work for the administration. So, I grinned and lived with the situation.

While I waited for the school bus to my high schools in Pennsylvania and Virginia, I had tried to socialize with my peers who were with me at the bus stops.  I was painfully aware that others around me talked about relevant things much more naturally than I.  So I talked about anything that happened recently that I was able to verbalize easily especially topics that were more concrete.  For example, one morning I mentioned that my father had hurt his toe nail which had no relevancy at the time and didn’t seem to interest anyone, though they were polite and friendly to me.  I lacked any sense of what is relevant or interesting to others which is a challenge in autism.  Certain things, especially more abstract concepts, were difficult to communicate.  Generally, those with autism do much better with the concrete than with the abstract.

 

In the end of September of 1975, Gail and family moved to our area and stayed with us until they found an apartment.  Originally, they had planned to move to the west coast, but they didn’t have enough money to move that far, besides they would be so far away from the grandparents and other family members.  My mother and I were elated to have loved ones live close to us and to help out with the children.  It didn’t matter that our apartment was cramped with six people.  We were happy to have them.

Gail and Ron found a nice two-bedroom apartment in Reston, Virginia with a lovely view of the woods and bike trails.  Reston was founded as a planned community, about forty miles east of Washington D.C., with bike trails throughout the area and connecting developments, stores and homes.  My mother and I visited Gail and her family often.  Whenever I came, I played their records on their nice stereo and jogged on the trails that went through the woods, meadows, fields, and golf courses.  Sometimes when I had plenty of time, I reached the country roads and went on them for a little while.  Whenever Gail had a dog, white French poodle, I took her with me. 

When Gail worked for a daycare center part time and Tej and Lisa wanted to stay home after school, I baby-sat them.  Tej was in kindergarten and Lisa was in pre-school.  When my school day ended, Gail picked me up at my high school and drove me to their place and went back to work.  I played mostly one on one with Lisa since Tej usually went out to play with her friends in the afternoon.  I tried very hard to be attentive to the girls–reading children’s books and playing simply roll-the-dice games such as Candy land with them.  I was lazy when it came time to initiate more creative things to do.  I let them to pick out the activities since it was easier for me and I didn’t need to think as much.  Though baby-sitting was tiring especially after a long day in school, I wanted to help out since Gail and Ron wasn’t able to afford to hire a baby-sitter.  I always spent the night there since it was easier for Gail to drive me back to school the next morning.  When it was the weekend, my mother picked me up.

Whenever my mother and I came over during the weekend, I always reverted back into my old ways of ignoring my nieces.  I was more concerned about getting as much of my studying done as possible as doing things with the children.  It was much easier for me to relate to things such as school work than to people, especially children.  I lacked conversational skills with the little ones.  I had difficulty in doing what seems natural for and taken for granted by most mothers.  I didn’t sing or kid around with my nieces.  Even though I hardly talked to them and didn’t show much affection, I always loved and cared for them.  I lacked confidence and sense in showing love.  The higher pitch voices and faster talking of children made it more challenging to process and was much more of a strain to attend to than to older folks.

 

In June of 1976 when I was almost nineteen, I graduated from high school without attending my graduation ceremony.  I was concerned that my mother would be too tired to take me to the event in the evening after working all day.  I didn’t feel it was a big enough deal for me to go when I could pick up my diploma a few days later.  My attitude was that I would be just an insignificant figure anyway and I wasn’t important enough for others including my family to watch me.  I didn’t realize that with a milestone that big in my life, it would have been nice for my folks and even the other people from the school to witness the big moment of me clutching the diploma in my hands.  Neither did I go to the big all-night party after the event.

A few days after the ceremony when I slept over Gail’s place for baby sitting, Gail drove me to the Oakton High on her way to work for me to pick up my diploma at the school office.  First I jogged around the neighborhood for over an hour to explore that area while I had the opportunity before I picked it up.  Afterwards, I walked home which was about five miles.

I was happy that I was able to graduate from high school like everyone else in my family.  I wasn’t nervous about life after that milestone.  I looked forward of going to college.  I knew that I would do okay if I studied hard.  I was much more nervous about life after college since that would be a much greater change.  I had no idea what I was going to do other than art.  I knew it was highly competitive and that there were limited employment opportunities in the field.

 

Sometimes on the weekends, my mother took me along on drives through the country roads to look at the scenery for relaxation.  Whenever I went with my mother in the car, I turned on the radio for rock music without asking her if she minded.  My mother let me have my way unless she had a special program she wanted to listen to on another station.  I was self-centered and didn’t consider that since she preferred classical music, that I should have shared the radio more and let her listen to her stations.  Some of my self-centeredness may be part of normal adolescent development, rather than all of it attributed to my disability.

Occasionally when the weather was nice on the weekend, we went on outings to explore the general area with Gail and family.  We went to parks, zoos, festivals, restaurants, and sightseeing in Washington D.C. and other tourist towns.  This satisfied my desire to go out and explore since I hardly ever went out with my friends.  I always had a desire to explore things and places.

During the summer, I swam in the pool.  As I walked though the park-like area in the development to swim, I watched many squirrels run up and down the tall oak trees. 

On one evening at the end of the season, I went to a free barbeque of hot-dogs and soda pop at the pool site.  Even though this was set up as a social event, I hardly talked to anyone since I was so busy eating.  It was much easier to eat than to socialize.  Free events where I could pig out were very appealing to me though it wasn’t appropriate for me to eat as much as I wanted since there was a limited supply and it would be better to take one or two dogs rather than four.  Even though I got overly stuffed to the point of discomfort, I lacked control to stop eating since tasting delicious food momentarily soothed my nerves which were already frazzled by autism.

 

One day at the pool, I met a friendly girl who was a year older than I and had her own apartment in the same development.  I went with her to her place were she lived alone though she had a boyfriend.  We had some commonalties in that we were both artists.  She did paintings too.  She went to a community college.  She served me a light lunch.  I talked to her basically about my life and interests in a matter-of-fact manner without getting into emotional aspects.  I wasn’t very skilled at expressing my feelings.  I was excited about making friends with the neighbor who was close to my age.  After I spent the afternoon with her, she said that anytime I wanted to see her that I could knock on her door.  But, when I went to see her after a while I mixed up another building for hers and lost her building number and forgot her last name.  We didn’t exchange our phone numbers due to lack of interest in building a solid friendship.

I bumped into her when I was out jogging one day.  Though she was very nice to me, she wasn’t too interested in establishing a friendship with me–sort of what I expected since I had a low image of myself.  She was very interested in getting to know who I was.

 

Though I felt too disabled to be liked and worthy of respect by most people, I felt that I wasn’t disabled enough whenever I applied for programs for those with disabilities such as special college scholarships for those with challenges.  One afternoon, a woman from the scholarship program came to our place to interview me and discuss student aid.  Though there wasn’t any indication that I would be disqualified, I felt that I couldn’t possibly qualify since my challenges weren’t severe enough such as someone who couldn’t walk, talk, see, nor hear.

My low self esteem caused me to feel either I had too much or too little of the problem, depending on the situation.  I felt that I was in a limbo–too disabled to be normal and too normal to be disabled.  Following the interview, the interviewer called to set up an appointment for me to come to her office.  I told her to drop the case since I felt that I was too capable to qualify to get anything.  I passed up opportunities for aid due to my assumptions that no agency would ever give me anything.  I felt why would anyone want to help me?

My outlook began to appear more promising when I was integrated in regular public high schools.  I felt some relief when I finally got what I had wanted for so many years–attending school and taking classes with the neighborhood youngsters.  During my attendance at my first public high school for just a half a year, where I was afforded opportunities to interact with my typical peers who were good role models, I made a great deal of progress in maturity and socialization.  Though I still had long ways to go to learn many of the nuances in communication and what was proper.  But I continued to make steady progress as I moved on to other schools.  Besides advancing in my social development, I began to form interests in a variety of academic subjects which was required in the college-bound program and became motivated to excel in them.

“Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise…Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery.  Instead, be filled with the Spirit.”  –Ephesians 5:15, 18–

Our development had a pool area with sauna for use in the summer.  I used both almost everyday that they were open.  In addition to swimming, I began a jogging program in the summer of 1974 just after school was out.  I jogged in the neighborhood almost everyday.  Bob picked up on the latest trends while in college which included running.  He started to jog and encourage me to engage in vigorous exercise such as jogging.

I read articles about aerobic exercise that can boost health benefits for the entire body, including the mind.  This led to a fitness craze during the seventies.  I noticed that I had become less constipated, though I still had ways to go since I had it bad.  Since I was very interested in improving my health and stamina, I was willing to give it a try, besides enjoying the scenery in the neighborhood.  Almost immediately, I noticed other benefits–greater euphoria and relaxation, and better muscle tone.

I also became motivated to lose weight so I went on a diet for the summer to lose about twenty pounds.  That wasn’t so effective, since I gained most if it back during autumn.  That was the last time I was on the faulty high-protein/low starch diet to lose weight, which I learned didn’t work on long term.

 

By the end of the summer, I was anxious to go back to school when it resumed in September.  Since I was used to the more structured environments from the previous years of summer camps and being around my nieces, I felt more lonely from not having chances to interact with others much.  I lacked enough social confidence to make friends that I could sustain throughout the summer.

I was excited when school started and that I began the school year with everyone else.  I was able to take more year-long classes in the standard subjects and a foreign language, such as French.  There was only one year that I didn’t take any art courses, since I was so far behind in my academic units and I needed to catch up as much as possible.  I began to take notes as I studied and during lectures to help myself retain the information better.  I started to devote much more time on my studies.

Unfortunately, I didn’t receive as much encouragement for my academic skills as I should have during my schooling prior to high school.  Since the focus all through the League School was to work on communicative and behavioral skills, there was less emphasis on the academics.  There was also a prevailing belief, though erroneous, that those with disabilities were assumed to be less capable of doing well in the academics even where unrelated to the disability.  Studies had proven otherwise in that those with disabilities could indeed excel in any academic field when given the opportunity and encouragement.

With the prospects of college in the future and the need to challenge myself I became motivated to do well in science, language arts, and mathematics along with the visual arts.  Since high school I progressively enjoyed my academic studies more and more.  It had become a lot of fun to read and learn about new things.  I knew that despite the societal prevailing attitude about those with disabilities not acquiring new skills as well I could perform well with motivation and a lot of work.  Thus, it is very important to have as high of expectations as possible of what I could do or others with challenges could do.

I became overly concerned with my grades even though they were fine.  I wanted to get straight “A”s.  Though I studied as hard as I was able, I hardly ever scored 90% or higher on tests, except high school biology where I did better.  I got frustrated that even with my best efforts; I only was able to get on average about 85% correct on tests in most of my classes.  Test anxiety didn’t help.  It was frustrating that on certain test questions, though I knew that I had studied the answers, I wasn’t able to access from my brain what I had learned.  Very often within minutes that I turned in my examinations and walked out of the room, the correct answers would enter my mind when it would be too late to put these down on paper.  Despite my high intelligence, I tended to think slowly which made it difficult to come up with answers on time during tests.  My slow information processing slows my reading speed.  Whenever I read too fast, my reading comprehension gets compromised.

Since I had low self-confidence I felt a great need to compensate for my insecurity and to prove myself to be the best student.  Again with my run-away-from-the-problem mentality as my coping mechanism, I pretended that things were better.  I fantasized about getting all “A”s in everything throughout the rest of high school and all the way through college.

I had even a harder time when I took the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT).  Even though I studied all of the vocabulary and the sample questions in a book that prepares one for that college-entrance exams, I still didn’t do nearly as well as I hoped, especially in the verbal section.  I had difficulty concentrating on the reading comprehension and the word comparisons.   This was compounded by my nervousness from the tight time constraints.  I did better on the mathematics section, though I had a slight disadvantage of not have taken geometry yet and not take any math that school year.  When I took the big test, I was just getting over a cold plus my stomach was acting up a little bit.  I wondered if these factors had any adverse effects on my performance.  When I received my SAT scores in the mail I was upset.  I scored below average on the verbal, but above average on the mathematics.  I wanted to do at least as well as Gail and Bob who did very well in both sections.  I was concerned that I would be denied acceptance in the college of my choice based on the test results.

Despite my weaknesses at information processing and my talent in art, I generally did very well in my take-home written assignments, except for the few instances when I misunderstood the work.  For example, I used to excel in doing research papers and in my essays for my French course.  I did the best when I was allowed to perform at my own pace, without worrying about getting it done in a tight time frame.  One problem I had was an inability to concentrate for long periods of time.  My mind had a tendency to frequently wander away from the task.  Therefore, I needed to take frequent breaks.

For a little while during high school, I wrote entries into a diary.  I wasn’t motivated to keep it up so it went by the wayside until I produced a little journal of glimpses of my life in 1975 as a high school assignment in my English class.  I saved a few of the entries to show how I viewed my life back then.  Autism is apparent in the inclusion of unnecessary details and without many emotions.  I also tend to leave letters or words out as my mind races on.  When writing, I always need to go back and forth and make revisions.  Here are a few of them before my teacher’s corrections:

January 13, 1975

            I ran out of space in my first journal pamphlet.

                        I feel very happy now because I love all of my courses and I can exercise much better than I used to. I started to do regular pushups a few months ago. Now I can do twelve pushups. I am planning to join the la cross team in the spring, the first athletic team I am ever going to join.

                        On December 31, 1974, I went with my parents to an optometrist to get my eyes checked with my parents. My vision is 20/40. I am a little near sighted. I got some eye glasses. On Sat. Jan. 11, I picked up my glasses on the way to the Abington library to take out books for my medium length composition.

                        For my American Heritage class, I have to write at least a five typed page composition on education around a period of 1860-1900. I have to get the information from at least six sources, not encyclopedias. The longest paper I ever wrote so far in my life time was three typed pages.

            February 3, 1975

                        Yesterday my parents, brother and I were invited to my brother’s girlfriend’s house for dinner.

                        Just before we went there, I finished writing down facts from all my books for my American history report. All I have to do with it is to organize it then type it all up with the bibliography.

                        On Friday I took tests from both of my history courses. The test for my new course was the first test of the course.

            February 18, 1975

                         About two weeks, I started to play hockey in physical education. I love this game. I was the goalie in most of the games. When I was first a goalie, I didn’t play the game right because I used to go away from the goal. Some of my team mates were angry at me. I think that they over acted this anger because it wasn’t so awful for me to play the game wrong for the first time. They should of explain the rules to me nicely. I am pretty good in this game.

            March 17, 1975

                        About three weeks age, I was thinking of going out for lacrosse so I signed up for it, but Miss Nace, the lacrosse coach told me that it is very dangerous for beginners like me.

                        Two weeks ago, I decided to join the tennis team. When I went out for the team on the first day, I found out from my coach, that I had to get back my physical card from Miss Nace so I couldn’t go out for another practice with it do so.

                        I had trouble finding Miss Nace for the card for my parents to sign up for tennis and cross of lacrosse, so I missed two practices. It wasn’t bad.

                        The coach encourages the team to do good execises, such as toe raisers, running, with a tennis racqet hitting the ball up in the air trying not to miss it, and of couse tennis. I love this game very much. It is a lot of fun and it is fulfilling. I also made some friends on the team.

 

Even though I was very aware that we all have problems, in one form or another, I compared myself with other students who got higher grades than I did.  I felt that as long as others have more or better things (grades, confidence, etc.) than me their challenges (allergies, less physical attributes, etc.) aren’t as bad as mine.  I compared hay fever with my problems, which aren’t related at all.  Since I never had the former, it was difficult for me to understand all of the suffering that it involves.  I thought that if I could exchange my challenges such as inability to ace all of my classes, I would trade it for hay fever which seemed of lower magnitude, since I knew much less about it.  Though I had some environmental sensitivity, it was never close to true full-blown allergies.  I didn’t realize that different problems can’t be compared.  This was like a comparison between two species of flowers where each their own attributes has.

I had some mental hang-ups, which are common in autism.  For example, whenever anyone or I in the room or within close vicinity sneezed, it remained in my thoughts for the rest of the day.  I wasn’t able to get the image out of my mind, even though the noise didn’t bother me too much, though a little bit loud sounding to me that wasn’t very pleasant.  This is similar to obsessive-compulsiveness.  Another hang-up I had which was related was that I used to feel uncomfortable sneezing in front of other people.  Since I did it so infrequently, compared to coughing, it seemed weird to me whenever I had an urge to sneeze.  Whenever I used to feel one coming, I would hold it back.  I became very skilled in this, except when I had a bad cold where nothing could override any urge and when I tend to have uncontrollable sneezing fits.  Even though I knew intellectually that it was okay to do it anywhere at anytime, it was difficult for me to break away from my patterns.  I felt so poorly about myself that I felt I wasn’t allowed to do a natural bodily function such as sneezing.

In the high school, there was a nice woman speech therapist who worked there.  I was assigned to her based on speech screenings that everyone took.  The school felt that this could help my stuttering.  The therapist unstructured approach helped and the more I talked the more fluent my speech became.  She had me talk as much about myself and other things as I was comfortable with.  I saw her about 45 minutes a week during class time for several months.  Though it was a good exercise for me I continued to stutter for many more years yet.  Important underlying causes were overlooked such as low self-esteem and nervousness.

 

My excessive concern over my studies sacrificed my social life somewhat.  Instead of reaching out to my peers between and before classes like I should have, I buried my face in my text books.  This caused me to pass up social opportunities.  One girl, named Donna, who was in my English and history classes on American studies, was very interested in me and joked around with me.  I didn’t appreciate her kidding around as much as I should have.  I was still socially immature for my age.  She was one of the cheer leaders and was very outgoing.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearly as friendly to her as she was to me.  I put my studies before her.  She was persistent and never gave up on me.

In addition, there were several other students who were friendly to me.  They talked to me during lunch.  One day, during holiday break, as I was jogging in my neighborhood, one girl, at her house with her friends, noticed me and invited me in.  Even though we didn’t have too many common interests and they came from a lower socio-economic background, I enjoyed becoming acquainted and feeling accepted.

I was elated when one girl, named Mary, invited me to her place.  She had cystic fibrosis and was very small in stature.  It was mutual understanding of enduring our respective hardships and the idea that we were considered fringes of society that brought us together.  I walked to her house a few times, and she visited me once when I showed her where I lived.  She once gave me a souvenir coal from one of her trips, and I fixed her lunch one time.  I felt a special bond between us.

 

In physical education class whenever we did square dancing, I danced without a partner since there were an uneven number of people and I was able to visualize what my partner would do and move accordingly.  I didn’t mind since I still felt like I was with the group and doing the same motions.  This was one example of my flexibility and ability to accommodate to the situation.

I mingled with a few girls who were on the la cross team and I got the idea of joining their team, since I wanted to try something different.  The sport is similar in concept to hockey and soccer but played with a net-like stick in which a hard ball is caught and thrown.  When I signed up, my teacher in health and physical education, who also coached la cross, discouraged me from participating.  She felt that my coordination and gross motor control wasn’t developed enough for the rigors of the game and I could be more prone to injury.  I took her advice seriously and withdrew my name from the list.  I was aware that my hand-eye coordination was generally a little bit off and that a hard ball that I would miss could hit me hard.

Since I still wanted to get on a team, I switched over to tennis.  I had hardly ever played the game and was interested in learning how to practice and play better.  Obviously, the other girls on the team, unlike me, had practiced most of their lives since their childhood.  I had difficulty in keeping up with them.  I was relegated to last place, and I had the lowest priority in participating in a match which was almost never.  While the matches were going on, I practiced by myself, hitting the tennis ball with the racquet against the fence.  It was good that everyone was allowed to play and nobody was excluded even with deficient skill.

Besides being a learning experience for me, I enjoyed the secondary benefits, such as taking the activity bus to schools for away games and to home in the early evening.  It was fun going on different routes from where I usually went.  After only two weeks of trying out for the team, I stopped going since I realized that I wasn’t getting anywhere and I wasn’t needed.  But, nothing was wasted; since I learned that one needs to be already proficient in the sport to really participate and most importantly that I was provided with more opportunities to socialize, rather than just learning the game.

 

As part of my high school curriculum, I took driver’s education that was offered at the school which included both classroom and on-the-road instruction.  I thought it was good for me to learn how to drive, even though I didn’t have plans to get a car soon, just in case I would need to for my independence in adulthood.  I might as well take the course while it was convenient and when there was no cost to my parents or to me.  In class, there was a simulator machine with controls of a car that were programmed to work along with a film on various driving techniques.  Whenever any response to the film was too slow, a light would come on.  All of my reflexes were delayed enough for the light to appear on every single task.  It is common in neurological conditions such as autism for reflexes to be slowed as mine were.

As soon as I got my learner’s permit and before I practiced driving in my father’s car, I drove in the school’s car through the serpentine on the school property.  I ran over every one of the markers.  I had difficulty in maneuvering the steering wheel fast enough to make turns.  I was surprised that it was my father who took me out to practice driving rather than my mother who did most things with me.  I felt that it didn’t matter who went with me as long as I had the opportunity.  I drove for hours at a time mostly on country roads to take in the scenery as I practiced.  But, I didn’t practice other procedures that were important, such as parallel parking enough.

When I drove on the freeway to get my driver’s test, I was very nervous since that was my first time and it occurred to me that I hadn’t done parking as much as I should have.  Though I scored 100% on the written part, I flunked the driver’s test.  By having parked about two feet from the curb which was way to far, too many points were deducted along with other minor areas for me to pass.  That was the last time I had driven anywhere.  After my mother told me that many people flunk their driver’s test first time too, I didn’t feel so bad about my failure.  I realized that I didn’t need a license since I didn’t feel that I would drive anyway.  I thought that if I ever would need a car in the future, I could take brush-up lessons.

My folks were concerned that if I drove and got into an accident I would be in such a panic that I wouldn’t be able to handle the situation.  I easily got upset when I would get into trouble.  It is generally much more challenging for those with autism to handle distressful situations that happen as suddenly as accidents.

TRANSITIONS AND INTEGRATION

Inclusion

Growing up sheltered from the world,

Where there was segregation,

For I was different with challenges,

As the reason to be denied inclusion.

As long as I attended schools only for children with challenges,

There was segregation.

As I lost contact with my neighborhood peers,

I was lead to increased isolation.

While I attended regular high school,

Where there were my peers with challenges for inclusion,

I had learn so much more from my role models,

From the benefits of integration.

Throughout my high school and college years I had developed greater interests in the academics, including science, psychology, literature, language, etc.  I struggled with test anxiety as I dealt with low confidence and wanted so much to get the best grades.  I tried all the time so hard to do my best in my studies.  School learning was also very rewarding and fun.  I discovered that regular physical activities improve my well being and enhances my brain function for learning.

 

I was excited about finally starting a different school.  I began attending the Adams School in Manhattan in January of 1973 which was a private school for high school age adolescents with challenges.  Like the League School this school provided a segregated environment, but the students tended to have milder disabilities and were more mature.  It was much more like high school with older pupils and more classes being offered.  Along with the basic English and algebra, and physical education, I took electives such as drawing, typing and workshop training.  I was interested in learning practical skills that I could possibly apply in the job market.

The Adams School made contracts with several of the area’s businesses to provide repetitious jobs for the students in a sheltered workshop-like setting.  About thirty adolescents including myself met for an hour a day in a large room, where tables were set up with the basic tasks–primarily packaging things, such as emery boards and plastic covers for record albums.  We were each paid piece-meal rates, which came out less than minimum wage.  We had rock music on the radio in that room which added a lot of fun to the repetitious work.  I also appreciated the comrade of the other students as they talked and worked, even though I did not talk much.

One period each day, I also worked in the mail room mostly updating the mailing lists–culling names, typing address plates, proof-reading, and making corrections.  I was also paid for that.  This was the first time that I had done real work for a paycheck.  I was thrilled though the amount was very small.  Since I knew that the higher my production, the higher my pay would be, I didn’t waste any time and performed my work as quickly as possible.  I liked the idea of doing things for money, though I never had had summer or after-school jobs.

Even my transportation was like I was going to and from a real job.  I commuted both ways on the subway.  It was much easier than going to my other school.  In the mornings, I went on the trains with the peak-hour crowds.  Sometimes we were packed very tightly.  Often when I was crammed in the middle of the crowd while standing, I felt hands in between my legs, moving up toward my crotch.  I never was able to find out who did it since it was too crowded to turn.

Unlike the League School, lunches weren’t included in the tuition, so I prepared and brought my own.  I fixed a variety of entree salads and packed them in a small insulated snack jar.  I took a small lunch because of the convenience of taking along what fit in that container and I knew that I could make it up by eating later when I came home from school and at supper time.  While eating in the lunch room, I mingled with the other students who had the same lunch period as I.  I became friendly with some of them.

I recognized several of the people with autism from the League School and from my summer camps.  Two of the counselors from the Samuel Field Y camp taught in the Adams School–one of them were my English teacher.  I used to have lunch with some of the familiar teenagers from my other schools.

 

One girl, Andrea, from the League School who was a good friend of mine, invited me to her place in Brooklyn after I left the school.  I visited her by train about once a month until I left New York.  She was slightly clumsy and used to flap her hands often.  She was very friendly to me.  Andrea was very intelligent with superior verbal skills.  She was an avid reader and used to tutor children in the school on verbal skills.  She was skinny from the inability of her system to absorb nutrients from food.

 

Like regular high school, a locker was assigned to each person.  Combination padlocks were available at the school office for a deposit of two dollars.  Twice, somebody picked off the lock I used.  I was very irritated that someone would do that to me and make me lose both my deposits.

One good thing happened, was that, when I was in the office to get a replacement lock, I bumped into a third-order cousin on my father’s side of the family.  She either had a learning challenge or a mild case of autism so she was also attending the school.  I hadn’t seen her for several years.  We both told our mothers.  Her mother was one of my father’s aunts on his mother’s side of the family.  She invited us to their apartment.  I was very thrilled that I had the opportunity to see the girl who was close to my age and went to my school.  The theft of my lock had led to that opportunity.  I was happy to be able to turn a negative into a positive.  It took the sting out of the bad situation and provided me with a sweet fragrance of the good.

 

Several afternoons after school, a guy from school talked and walked with me to the subway.  He was two years older than I and wanted to be my boyfriend.  It was short-lived.  We went on a date one Saturday afternoon to eat out.  I went by train to meet him in Brooklyn close to where he lived.  This was my very first real date.

The main problem was that he talked non-stop and I had difficulty listening to him.  I was unable to process the onslaught of all that auditory information due to my sensory overload and attention problems.  He must have picked up that I wasn’t taking in everything he said to me, though I tried very hard to listen.  The effect became a strain on me after just a few minutes of his monologue.  The strain was compounded by not having much to say myself.  At the end of our only date as I was getting ready to go home, he decided to break up with me.  I didn’t blame him and I wasn’t hurt.  I realized that he wanted someone to act as a sounding board which was beyond me.  In a way the break up was a relief to me.  I wasn’t ready yet to sustain an intimate relationship, such as having a boyfriend.  Carrying on conversations wasn’t one of my fortes, one of the major qualities that enhance intimacy.

 

One day in the spring of 1973 when Gail was discussing the beauty of British Columbia, Canada and that she and her family might want to move there some day, I began to wonder what it would be like to live in a rural area–especially since I viewed pictures of the countryside there.  I thought it would be nice to have a change.  I was attracted to the novelty and purer air of living in the country.  I had read several articles on air pollution in the urban areas throughout the world.  I thought it would be healthier to live in rural places.

When my folks and I visited Uncle Jack and his family shortly after they moved into a lovely home nestled in a wooded area in Mount Kisco, NY, I wanted even more to move away from the big city.  Though Mt. Kisco, which is in Westchester County, is only less than fifty miles from New York City, it didn’t feel that it was that close to the city.

In my school library, I read issues in the National Geographic and books that featured British Columbia.  I also read articles on other countries, such as Australia and the Polynesian Islands.  I looked at the map of British Columbia and located the general area where I thought I would like to live–about half way up the province in between the mainland and Vancouver Island.  This interest developed as I hoped to run away from my problems.  I didn’t think that my struggles would follow me where ever I go without facing them head on.

In the spring of 1973, my father received notice at work that his job was to be transferred to the Naval Air Development Center in Warminster, Pennsylvania, which is about fifteen miles north of Philadelphia, in Bucks County.  It was to take effect in autumn.  Whenever Bob was available on the weekends, he drove all of us to Bucks County to look at apartments or townhouses for our move.  I was excited about the prospects of moving to another area.  I enjoyed the ride and looking at places very much.

During June 1973 just after school was out, my mother and I went to Ohio for the summer to be with Gail and her family.  My mother resigned her job to have extra time off before settling in Pennsylvania.  In Ohio, a few days a week I took walks in the back roads in the area where there were still farms, open fields, and horse stables.  I appreciated the beauty of countryside.  It was a novelty compared to where I was brought up.

I thought of hitchhiking all the way to British Columbia, but I didn’t have it in me to do it.  I was aware of the potential dangers of going with strangers and of living without money once my pocket change ran out.  I gave up on my plans of moving there.  I realized that the isolation would be too much to handle.  I would miss my family and miss out on my educational opportunities.  Besides, I was satisfied with what I had in Ohio and what I saw in Pennsylvania.  Since I didn’t have a strong social network outside my immediate family due to my autism, it was even more vital that I continue to live where I could receive the support of my family.

In addition to walking, I went swimming at several private lakes in the area where Gail took all of us until she settled on one, the Stow Lake that was only about five miles from their place where she could have a family membership.  There was only one public lake in the area, but it was about an hour’s drive each way and it was much more crowded.  We took out a row boat at the public park once, which was fun.  It was especially nice to swim on the hot and sunny afternoons.  I swam mostly laps, alternating several strokes that I had used for years.  I used to get into the water very slowly until I got used to the temperature of the water.  Then one day I learned that by jumping into the lake quickly–getting myself wet all at once, I got the initial shock over with much faster.

I used to spent a good potion of the time when we were indoors, swaying to rock music for hours.  It drove people crazy, even when I wore headphones.  The stereo was in the dining area, and there weren’t any radios in the basement where I slept.  My family was concerned that listening to music without doing anything productive for most of my waking hours would be harmful for my development.  I learned to limit my rock ‘n roll time to a little bit most days and though more whenever I was alone, but not for hours and hours.  Though the music and the rhythmic motion were uplifting to me during stressful times, it was fun during happier moments as a celebration of my move and let my happy thoughts flow.  Though I was facing the unknown such as of where I would attend school, I felt more joy than stress when I left New York.

 

When my mother and I were back in New York at the end of the summer, we found out that my father’s transfer had been delayed from September to November.  I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to start my school in Pennsylvania at the beginning of the new school year.  I was also concerned that there would be more delays.  I didn’t want to live in New York anymore.

It was less than a week that we were back from Ohio, when Gail called and needed us; mom and I went back to her place right away.  Tej had a bladder infection and her urine test came out so badly that she was placed in a hospital for a few days.  So my mother and I went back to be with them.  Mom went with when Gail visited Tej and I baby sat Lisa while they were away.  Though I was sad about what happened, I was glad to be back in Ohio for the time being.  Since it would still be months yet until we settled in our new place, we decided that I would stay with Gail for half a year and enroll in school there for a semester.

When my records from the Adams School to the Kent School District came, I began to attend Theodore Roosevelt High School on October 2, 1973.  I was very thrilled to finally go to a regular public school.  It felt good to be able to take classes with typically developing students.  Since I began school a whole month after school started, I was assigned to courses that were continuation of what I had in my other school so I wouldn’t be so far behind if I were to start the new things a month late into the term.  The school administration felt that it would be too much for me to catch up if I took new subjects.

I took all of my classes in the morning, so I could be in the work-study program and be available for a job.  I liked the idea of getting some experience with the employment that teenagers usually get after school and weekends.  I thought it would be nice to earn a little bit of my own spending money, while I would be learning new things.  Unfortunately, there weren’t any jobs available for me from firms that sent help-wanted ads to the school.  I counted on my school counselor to notify me about such jobs.  I didn’t realize that I could increase my chances if I would actively go out seeking for myself rather than relying on others to find opportunities for me.

However, I was able to make a little bit of money here and there by baby-sitting children in our cul-de-sac.  Except for a one-week job of taking care of a three-year-old and other older children during the day before I began school–most of my baby-sitting jobs were at night, after the kids went to bed.  About one evening a week, I went to watch a four-year-old boy and a two-year-old girl whose mother was friendly with Gail and so got to know and trust me despite my appearances and speech impediment.

The first few times I was there, I turned on their color TV.  After watching shows for a few minutes a couple of times, I lost interest and turned on the stereo instead to play records and tapes until I fell asleep on the sofa.

I began to develop more interest in other areas rather than TV such as reading and walking.  Since I was free in the afternoons after lunch at school, I had plenty of time to pursue them.  During my first month in that high school, I hung out at the school library to read novels for a few hours each day until it was time to take the school bus home.  One of my favorite books that I read in that period was, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, a novel by Hannah Green, about a very intelligent woman who struggled with schizophrenia.  Though her problems were different than mine, I felt connected to her in that I was also highly intelligent and that I also dealt with a neurological condition.

One day, it occurred to me that since my school was only about three miles from Gail’s place, I could walk back in the afternoons, especially when the weather was nice.  The idea of taking the back roads through the horse stables, farms, and open fields was very pleasant.  I also liked getting back earlier.  Besides, it felt good to walk.

I was happy to make a few friends in school with whom I had lunch and played cards, though I didn’t considered them to be very close or best friends.  I was thrilled that one girl included me when she invited several friends to a party at her place one evening when there was enough snow for tobogganing.  This was a big deal for me, since I never had had that many friends who invited me anywhere.  The main problem had been that whenever refreshments were served, I would rush over and grab food in as though I were starving.  I didn’t realize how I appeared.  As we ate during the party, one of the girls was offended and spoke up to me.  I tried to tone down my pig-out behavior, but soon forgot to watch myself in other parties to come over the years.  But, overall I had a good time.

Though a few girls were friendly, it still wasn’t easy for me to make really good friends.  I still had difficulty in sustaining a long conversation.  It was still difficult to get intimate with any school mates.  I used to be rather shy about knowing exactly what to talk about with others.  It was hard for me to go with the flow of discussions.  Anything that came to my mind, whether it was related to the topic or not, I would talk about it then.  Often the topic would trigger a memory that I would respond to and go off on a tangent.  Sometimes I got so anxious to get my words out that I used to interrupt others before they could complete their sentences or train of thoughts.  It was as though what I was to say was most important and that everyone needed to hear it right away.

Since I made a few friends to visit and do things with after school, I really appreciated that some of Gail’s friends and neighbors included me in invitations to their places for dinner.  I felt like that I was being valued and that they cared for me.  This provided me with a boost to my self-esteem that I needed.

 

One evening, Gail took me with her family to an ice-skating rink to skate.  That was the first time that I actually ice-skated though it was my second attempt.  During my first which was about eight years earlier, I was so much a coward that I wanted to get out of the rink as soon as I stepped in it with skates on.  Years later, I knew that I would have regrets if I never tried.  I was elated that I finally was able to ice-skate; though I was still timid and did it slowly and with small steps circled the rink close to the sides so I could hold on in case I fall.

Though it was difficult for me to get started in doing new things, especially of a physical nature, I felt a great sense of accomplishment once I mastered a skill though it might not be fully refined.  My physical coordination, related to autism wasn’t as well developed as that of most other people my age.  It is common in those with autism to have deficiencies in physical coordination.

In my art class I did very well as usual.  My art teacher admired my art often and he was also intrigued of my personality.  He joked around.  He sat down and had lunch with me a few times even though the faculty was supposed to eat in a separate area away from the students.  One of my watercolor paintings of still-life of a rustic chair with several different objects on it, that was done in his class won an award that included a certificate and a dinner out in a restaurant.  That provided a temporary boost for my ego, even though I wasn’t able to use my prize since I left for Pennsylvania.

 

As soon as I completed a semester at Roosevelt High School, I took a Greyhound bus from Akron, Ohio to Baltimore, Maryland to meet my parents.  They were away on a business trip.  I wanted to spend a little time with my mother doing the day visiting Baltimore while my father was on business.  Afterwards, they drove me to our new place in Horsham, Pennsylvania.

We moved into a townhouse development that had natural paneling with a little bit of masonry on the exterior.  Our unit had two bedrooms up stairs and a modern eat-in kitchen with a built-in washer and dryer set down stairs.  In the back, we had a fenced-in patio looking out into a strip of the woods.  The only disadvantage in moving there was that we weren’t able to move in our wall units that Ron had built, since it didn’t fit along the long wall in the living room that had a ceiling beam in the way.  But, we gave it away to a cousin of mine on my father’s side of the family.

As soon as we got home from Baltimore, I started Hatboro-Horsham High School at the beginning of the second semester of the school year.  I took the continuation of the courses from my other school.  I was also able to add additional classes to fulfill requirements for graduation, such as specialized courses in English/communications and history.  I took a course in mass media to fulfill my language arts requirement.  I took history of industry for my social studies requirement.  These courses were a semester long each so it was easy to start taking them in the middle of the school year.

I started to take typing when I attended Adams School thinking that it would be a practical skill to learn since every office has a typist and this would make it easier to get a job.  At this school, besides typing all the letters and numbers, etc., my typing teacher allowed me to do fun things, such as producing pictures and patterns all with using type.  She had a book for me to follow.  I typed a whole page of a sea scene, all with various letters and numbers and spacing.

When I continued taking typing at Roosevelt High, the focus was shifted from doing fun projects to practicing actually typing all sorts of words (both made up and real).  The instructor was easy since this was a beginner’s course.  But, when I continued with typing at Hatboro-Horsham High, it became much more challenging as we were started to get graded on developing speed with touch typing.  I did poorly in this part and it became very difficult for me to keep up with my slow information processing and weak gross motor skills.  My movements through the keys tend to be uncoordinated when I work too fast.  Whenever I type, my fingers tend to slip and type the wrong keys frequently.  This is okay since I have enough time to go back and make the corrections.

In addition to drawing, I took crafts for various projects, such as a burlap wall hanging, ceramic bowls, and a leather purse.  I also got to use my artistic ability in my mass media communications class by doing the animation for the class film project.  I liked that there were plenty of options in just about all of the subject areas except for the basic required courses.  I enjoyed being occupied by my studies all day in school since I was so far behind.  This was my best high school and was in a very good school district, the Montgomery County School District that was next to the Bucks County School District which was rated one of the best in the country.

 

TURBULENCE AND EMERGENCE

Thunder Giving Way to a Rainbow

Out of the blue and seemingly calm breeze,

Clouds start to appear and darken to fill the sky.

Weight and pressure builds up,

Then rain, thunder, and lightening coming down from up high.

Gradually the thunder clouds move away,

Then patches of blue breaks of sunshine reappear.

As the air becomes refreshed and the earth nourished,

A breathtaking rainbow with all the beautiful colors appear.

Adolescence was very difficulty for me during the early stages, which included puberty.  This was also a period of a great learning curve.  As I become more mature things gradually improved.  I greatly appreciate all the love and support that I received from family and friends while I continued to struggle in life.

 

Before we moved into a larger apartment that had three bedrooms with a panoramic view of Corona and Flushing, New York, I enjoyed looking at the floor plans of it and got excited about the move.  I stayed with Grandma Rae during the move so I wouldn’t get in the way.  We moved at the end of April 1968 to the large high rise development, Lefrac City, which was in Corona, only a couple of miles from our previous place.  Bob was able to have his own room again after many years.  Our living room opened out into a terrace where we kept our lounge chairs to use during nice weather.  We sold our piano as we didn’t play on it enough.  We got brand new furniture for the living room, lamps with tables, chairs, and a couch that opened up in to a full sized bed.  In the kitchen, we had modern appliances for the first time.

Unlike many children with autism, I didn’t mind any of the changes in my life and I even welcomed change to add new experiences in my life.  I got tired of the same old thing all of the time.  Generally, individuals with autism have a much harder time adjusting to changes–though some are better at it than others.  The sameness in the environment often provided a source of comfort for such people.  Of course all people and environments are constantly changing, at least to some extent.  Even some people with autism realize that change is necessary to get ahead.

Throughout our development, there were several playgrounds that were well equipped with swing sets, seesaws, and monkey bars.  When ever the weather was nice, I went on the swings for about an hour, until I developed motion sickness later in my teens.  I played a little bit with the other children.  A girl in the development was in my group in the day camp in Forest Hills.  I had had played with her at camp and at Lefrac City.  She was very nice and outgoing.  There was a candy store in one of the buildings in Lefrac City.  Sometimes I used to walk there and buy all sorts of candy.  There was also a swimming pool within the complex that required membership of which we never joined.

 

In May 1968 before I turned eleven, my mother had major surgery to remove her gall bladder.  She was in the hospital for seventeen days and was in agony.  While she was there, Gail took over the household responsibilities, including all the cooking.  Her cooking was very good.  She was in a phase of experimenting with fancy recipes such as pea soufflé and other exotic things that I liked.  I helped my mother when she came home and brought things to her when she needed them.

 

During the following three summers, I went to Camp Ramapo Anchorage for two four week sessions.  It was a sleep away camp for emotionally disturbed children, located in Rhinebeck, NY, about a hundred miles north of New York City.  Just before I went for the first time, I looked at the brochure of the camp over and over again and got excited about going.  The camp provided campers transportation to and from camp for each session by chartered buses.  I enjoyed the ride up the state for the scenery.

The camp was in a beautiful secluded area by the Catskill Mountains.  The first few days that I was there, I pretended that I had gone to grandma’s place because it seemed too good to be true that I was sent to such a nice place.  I almost couldn’t believe it and felt that I wasn’t good enough to deserve it, until I got used to the place after a couple of days.  Overall, I enjoyed the camp very much.  The main intention of the camp was to provide summer respite for the families while providing fun activities for the children with disabilities.

But, after a few weeks into each session, I began thinking about the advantages of home, such as more unstructured time and family.  Then, I started to get a little bit homesick.  On the other hand, when I was home, it was hard for me to wait to go to camp again.  The better-is-else-where syndrome.  It was good for me to get away when school was out, especially since both of my parents worked full time.  The camp grounds were very nice with a large lake for swimming and rowing, and rustic cabins for each group and each activity.

Each bunk had space for two camp counselors to six campers.  We all took turns with the daily chores.  A few games were provided for use.  Some of the children brought along their comic books to be shared.

During my first summer at that camp, there were only three other children in my cabin with me in July.  Then during August, the count was up by one.  I began to feel cheated that my cabin had fewer kids than the other groups.  I felt that the greater number of children in my group the greater number of friends I would have and be more popular.  This seems like that it would make up for my loneliness even though it was mostly caused by autism.  Again, I felt helpless and started to pretend my problems away by fantasizing about having additional children in my bunk to add up to a total of six. 

I loved the arts and crafts very much.  We made all sorts of things–candles of sheets of bee wax, objects from plaster molds, jewelry from beads and bamboo, lanyards, straw dolls, and a few additional projects.  I made a lamp from a small tree trunk and a slab of solid pine as a base.  I also had sewing and made bags, aprons, and dresses.  I got so absorbed in these activities that my mind would be taken away from my day to day problems–almost like taking a vacation.  This helped relieve my stress levels.

The swimming areas were surrounded by a dock.  Daily, we had a period for swimming with individualized one on one swimming instruction by trained camp counselors.  I had a nice tall Danish girl work with me to develop enough courage to swim.  For two weeks, she tried to encourage me to let go in the water and just float.  Although it was relatively easy for me to move into another place, it was much more difficult to make other changes, such as developing new physical skills as swimming.   Out of my intense fear of getting hurt if I do something wrong, It was very difficult to bring myself to embark in new physical activities.  One day when I was able to break away from the fear, I finally gained enough courage to float by myself.

I made up my mind that all I had to do was close my eyes, hold my breath, and let go, and that I was going to be fine.  When I did this for the first time, I felt that I had made a big step.  From there, I learned all the basic strokes and diving.  I never cared so much for the latter.  I didn’t like getting my eyes under water because when ever I opened my eyes, the water got in my eyes.  By the end of the first summer, I swam well enough to pass the basic test for swimming in deep water.  I was exhilarated.  This was a big accomplishment for me.

It was a lot easier for me to jump into new activities such as boating that didn’t demand as much development in my gross motor skills.  Right next to the dock, was a boating area with a boat house where row boats were available for the campers.  We usually doubled up in each boat.  Sometimes when we took out the boats, we brought along hand held nets and old bread as bait to catch small fish, about three inches long.  As soon as we caught them, we threw them back in the water so we could catch them over and over again.  I enjoyed getting out on the water with the boat.  A few times, we all went out together in a barge that held about eighth to ten people.  We then landed it in a wooded area and went for a short hike.

In camp, there was a cabin that housed all sorts of games–including a pinball machine, a pool table, and a ping pong table.  I liked playing pinball more than the other games.  In addition, there was a gym, where we used roller skates and sat on bouncing bags.  We also bounced and jumped on a large trampoline.  I enjoyed these activities very much as novelties.  It felt good to learn new skills which were helpful in developing coordination.  Moreover, we played all sorts of field sports.  I didn’t care so much for baseball.  I wanted games with more constant activity.  In addition, we rode bikes.  After being prompted for several minutes by a counselor, I got on a two-wheel bike for the first time in my life.  Once I mastered the skill, I felt a great sense of accomplishment and elation.

On several Saturday evenings, we had dances to rock music in a big hall used for camp wide activities.  We played all sorts hits on 45’s.  As I did mostly repetitious swaying movements as my free style dance all evening, I would enter a trance state of mind daydreaming and being mesmerized by my favorite music.  My thought during trances was generally dominated by my obsession of having a greater number of children in my cabin the first year.  I also usually daydreamed about my favorite camp activities such as arts and crafts, photography, boating, and swimming.  Each hit recording brought forth remembrances from the time period when it first came out that coexisted with my other thoughts.

At the end of each four week sessions, we had a birthday party dance with a live rock band and birthday cake, in the gym, to celebrate everyone’s birthday throughout the year.

Once every summer we took a field trip to the Duchess County Fair.  Each camper had a counselor assigned on a one on one basis for the day outing.  When we went by the Ferris wheel, it occurred to me that even though that ride went up very high, the riders remained basically upright.  So, I went on it and liked it.  I was elated to discover something that I enjoyed.  I still never went for the rides in which I would be turned upside down, side ways, or other contorted positions.  I feared the more adventurous stuff, especially new physical activities and sensations that I wasn’t used to.  At the fair, there was also horse back riding.  I got on a horse for the first time in my life and I was too much of a coward to enjoy it.  I wasn’t used to the motion of the horse.  After a few minutes, I got so afraid that I got off.  Overall, I enjoyed the outing to the fair with all that hustle and bustle of activities and exhibits.

We went one day on another field trip to The Catskill Game Farm Park that was nestled in the mountains.  There were several animals roaming free, deer and various birds.  I enjoyed watching these animals in their natural environment. 

In addition, we had some other activities, including treasure hunts, photography, bingo, camp out in the woods, and cooking.  During photography, each camper was provided with a small camera with black and white film.  I wandered all over the camp for my photo opportunities, to get as many people and places on my film as possible.  At the end of that activity, we gathered in the dark room to unload our film and get it ready for processing.

Within a few days, we went back to the dark room to follow through with developing our film.  I enjoyed photography very much and was talented at it.  I also liked learning various procedures, including development of film.

Twice a week, we devoted a period for education.  Each camper was assigned to a counselor for one on one individualized instruction.  We had this so our academic skills wouldn’t become rusty over the summer.  I used that time to brush up on my verbal and reading skills, since I didn’t test as well as I should due to attention problems that were related to autism.  Due to my social isolation I was afforded fewer opportunities to pick up the new vocabulary and the nuances of culture which were contained in the meaning of the test passages.

We incorporated some food preparation into few of our activities.  For example, one morning each month in camp, we had a leisurely morning with preparing breakfast.  We also made homemade ice cream in an old fashioned ice cream maker operated manually.  We all took turns turning the crank and filling the outer cavity with ice.

 

Just a week before my eleventh birthday while I was on a camp field trip I began to menstruate.  Luckily, my mother had prepared me and had sent every thing I needed for that.  She had a feeling that I was going to start menstruation, since she began hers at the same age.  I didn’t feel that I had enough maturity to deal with my periods well.  I used to get irritable easily.  Since I was already dealing with a great deal of stress that was autism related, I couldn’t take any more on top of that easily.  The fear of growing up was very stressful.  Menstruation signaled the end of childhood and the start of growing up.

For a little while when I was eleven, I preferred to sit in the front seat in my school van.  It seemed to me that seat was the most comfortable.  I took turns with two boys sitting in that seat until I got tired of the competition for sitting there.  I began to realize that the other seats were just as good.  I went back to sitting in the middle of the back of the van.  Although whenever I went to gatherings with my folks, I used to go for the middle seat on a sofa as much as possible. 

This made me feel that I would be more the center of attention, as if this would make up for my weaknesses.  I had this preference for about a year until it didn’t matter to me where I sat as I realized that sitting in the middle wouldn’t make others pay more attention to me.  It seemed like that no matter what others paid more to other people than me.  I felt that this was related to the situation that my communicative skills wasn’t as sophisticated as most of my peers of my age.

On one autumn day in 1968, my school van broke down for a few hours in the afternoon which seemed like a long time to me.  I got very upset and cried while waiting so long for the repair.  I hated to get home late.  It was difficult for me to deal with disruption of my schedule.  It is often very distressing for people with autism to changes or disruptions of plans unexpectingly.  Likewise, I used to get disappointed if the parties I was invited to be canceled.

The focus of my obsession shifted from wanting to be the first one off the bus to having half days of school in the mornings and getting home early in the afternoon.  I wanted short school days every day so I could get home early and watch all the afternoon cartoons.  I was jealous of the little children who went to school a few hours a day and had more free time.  I felt resistance to growing up and wanted to remain being a child where I had fewer responsibilities.

Fear of growing up is common in autism.  It signifies changes that are more challenging.  I feared the increasing demands and responsibilities being placed upon me as I get older.  I didn’t have much appreciation for school then.  I generally felt younger than my age.  There were times when I didn’t want to grow up.  I resisted more responsibility as part of growing up.  I didn’t feel emotionally mature enough to deal with menstruation which is part of womanhood.  It took me about a year to feel adapted to my female development which is part of growing up.        

Even though my school wasn’t affected by the teachers’ strike in the New York City public schools that fall all of the schools, including the League School, were asked to remain open for an extra hour a day for making up the time that the schools were closed.  I felt cheated out of my free time and felt this was unfair to the League School since it hadn’t stopped at all during the strike.  I was really upset until it went back to its regular schedule.

 

At school, one of the teachers, named Maxine, liked me very much.  She knew me from two years earlier when she started out as a substitute.  She was caring.  She did her job very well.  She encouraged creativity with her fictional character, “Marigold,” that she used in story-telling.  We all took turns in continuing and finishing the story each week.  Marigold was sketched on the chalk board with different colors of chalk as we told the story.  Some of the plots which were used illustrated problems that some of the pupils, including myself, were experiencing.

For example, Marigold once dealt with my obsession of getting home early and clocks at 1:30 that showed the time I would like to be home.  I thought it was a good idea to demonstrate our challenges in a story format so we could provide better support for one another.  I was the most interested when mine was drawn because I was curious of what others had to say about my problems.  Generally, the teachers and other children were very interested in my situation and were supportive of me.  They thought that I must have hated school so much as to want to leave as early as possible and gave positive reasons to enjoy school–friendships and learning new things.  I sensed that the constructive criticism would help me work through my problems.  This made me realize how ridiculous my obsession of getting home early was.  I learned that I couldn’t avoid growing up.

Several years later, I called Maxine and her Spanish husband, and they took me out a few times.  Like my teacher Norma several years earlier, Maxine took a great deal of interest in me which made me feel better about myself and that I was being valued.  They took me to a park where we rented bikes for riding around the park.  We also stopped in Howard Johnson’s for ice-cream to have after dinner in their apartment.  Maxine was pleasantly surprised to hear from me when I called her, and set up a day to take me out to a movie and a restaurant.  It made me feel that I was being appreciated whenever my teachers were nice and took me out outside of classes to spend extra time with me. 

 

In school I drew mostly people and flowers, sometimes with landscapes.  One of my favorite activities during recess was to create designs with the “Rig-a-Gig” toy that was comprised of flat hexagonal pieces with jagged edges where small tubes adjoined these pieces.

Once in awhile, I was asked to leave the classroom for a time out of about five minutes for acting silly or laughing at inappropriate times.  For example, when I thought about funny images such as a cartoon character jumping up high on a trampoline to an open window and climb in, it was difficult to stop laughing–no matter what was going on around me.  Sometimes thinking about such things would make me laugh.  I used to do this in inappropriate situations, such as in a class room during a lesson when we should be concentrating.  It wasn’t easy for me to get rid of such silly thoughts.  This was related to my attention deficit disorder.  During the time-outs, I went in a trance and play a rock ‘n roll song in my head to calm myself down.

Occasionally, I used to have melancholic crying moods–when I would feel an urge to cry through out the day for no apparent good reason.  I just knew that I felt a great need for people to comfort me in a nice soothing voice.  But, I didn’t know how to ask for that effectively, since I didn’t always express my emotions well.  I used to worry about my problems excessively and take my blessings for granted.

Just before my folks and I were to be driven home by Ralph’s father after visiting the family for the day, Rhonda, who was not yet five then, handed me her Etch ‘in Sketch toy and told me that I could keep it.  I thought she really meant it and was about to take it home with me.  As I took it into the car, my father yelled and ordered me to return it.  I got angry at him and wiped my nose on his arm in revenge.  I whined for a few minutes until it was taken from my hand.  I didn’t understand how a small child’s brain works and that a child that young only thinks for that moment that she doesn’t want a certain toy.  I understood later as this was explained to me.

Most of the time, Bob and I got along with each other very well and played various games with each other.  But, we got into sibling rivalry at times, especially over the TV.

 

In the fall of 1968, Honey started to have problems with her bladder control in addition to problems with her tear glands.  When she was taken to the veterinarian, she was found to have a seven-pound cancerous growth in her uterus that was pressing against her bladder–that was causing her to urinate frequently.  When she underwent surgery to remove her cancer, she passed away on the operating table.

As much as I loved her and missed her presence, I realized that she was very ill and needed to go get rest and relief from her suffering.  I adjusted very well to her death though I was very sad that she wasn’t around for me to pet her.  I think my mother and brother had a harder time dealing with this than I.  We didn’t get a replacement pet because my folks didn’t want to take on the responsibilities involved, and Bob was planning to go away to college in just a few years anyway.

Several years later in the spring 1971, I was able to experience having a pet again, though it was only temporary and a different animal.  In one of the other classes on the same floor as mine, somebody brought in a Guinea pig as a class pet.  Whenever the owner wasn’t able to take it home on the weekend, I was offered the opportunity to take it (in its cage) with me.  All of the food was provided.  It was fine with my folks since I did a very good job of caring for the animal.  As with Honey I enjoyed petting it as this help reduce the effects of stress and I was able to commune with the animal which was very calming.  Unlike many human beings and like most other pets he was non-judgmental and loved me unconditionally.

 

Several times each month, usually on a Saturday night, we used eat out at a nice Chinese restaurant that was just blocks away from our place.  Chinese cuisine was my favorite.  We went to that restaurant more often than other places.  Whenever we went there, I loved the food so much that I pigged out until my stomach was about to explode.  We always ordered the family plan of all sorts of specialties.

 

In the spring of 1969, I began to give myself hair cuts–both front and back for a basic short hair style.  I decided to cut my hair because I thought it would be quicker and cheaper to do it myself–rather than having it done at a beauty salon.  After every few snips in the back, I stroked my hair and used a hand-held mirror to view the back of my head to get as even a cut as possible.  I did a good job–considering that it’s much harder to cut one’s own hair than it is to do others and that I never received formal training.  My mother was a little bit disappointed that I cut my hair without consulting her.  But, she didn’t feel that I did a bad enough job that would behoove disciplinary action.  Since my hair is naturally course and wavy with a lot of body, my imperfections weren’t very apparent.

But, even with that, one could definitely tell the difference when my hair was done professionally.  I did my own hair for years into my adulthood until I realized that it wasn’t worth it.  It was much more important for me to look my best for situations such as interviews, trips, and meeting people.

 

When all of the children in my school met in the gym for a half hour prior to when classes started in the morning, I mostly paced across the room as I got into a trance.  This enabled me to release the build up of tension, so I could be calmer.  This was one of my autistic characteristics.  I used to also look at all of the children there.

About every evening, I used to do my own style of dance which was mostly swaying back and forth.  This enabled me to relieve some of my nervous tension.  I surrendered the worries of the world.  I used to do this for about two hours at a time to my records in my parents’ bedroom, until I bought a stereo record player that I kept that in my room so I wouldn’t get in my mother’s way when she needed to rest in the evening.  I had most of the Beatles albums and a bunch of singles.  Rather than playing my albums through their entirety, I just played my favorite selections from each record.  I used to play these over and over again, about five times in a row for several days until I got tired of listening to them.

When ever I would be out shopping and pass by where rock music that I liked was being played, I used to go into a trance and do my swaying-back-and-forth dance right out in public which was difficult to control.  During my trances, I used become enmeshed in my fantasies.  Sometimes, when I was in a store and something caught my eye while I was strolling along, I used to forget to watch for people that were moving along in my path.  Sometimes I’d bump into them.  When my mother was with me, she often reminded me to move out of the way for others to pass through.

 

In February 1969 when I was eleven and a half, the van drivers of my school went on strike.  I stayed home from school throughout the strike, since neither of my parents was able to take me back and forth, nor did they want me to go alone using public transportation.  During my time off, I went to stay in Grandma Rae’s house for about two weeks.  I brought along my toys to keep myself occupied.  I had the radio on rock music for hours at a time in the spare room, where I spent most of my time.  The music wasn’t a problem for Grandma as she was in the living room most of the time which was far enough away from the spare room to not be able to hear the music.  I slept in the extra bed in grandma’s bedroom since her husband had already passed away about a year earlier.  When I started to get a little home sick, I went home and grandma went with me to spend some more time with me so I wouldn’t be alone during the day.  She paid a senior man, who was a neighbor, to drive us from the Bronx to Queens.

Even though I kept myself busy with my toys, projects, and a little bit of TV, I began to get bored by not coming in contact with other children my age.  By the second or third week of being out of school, I started to miss it.  I missed my classmates and the social interaction I had with all of the people there.  I needed the stimulation and the structure that my school provided.  Generally, children with autism thrive better in structured environments.  By the time the strike was settled after four weeks of the walkout, I appreciated my school so much more than I ever had before.

Related to my superior visual skills, I was very good in doing puzzles.  I worked on several 1000-piece jig saw puzzles, with pictures of an English garden with a nice house, Arabian horses, and a painting of a village and farm scene.  It used to take me several days, about four hours a day, to complete each puzzle.  I also used to play with toys that exercised my hand dexterity, such as pick-up-sticks and Monkey-in-the-Barrel.  Also to utilize my fine motor control and artistic pursuits, I did a few embroidery projects, of assorted flowers in a basket on a pillow cover that came as a kit that my mother gave me, and an owl as a wall hanging that my mother had framed.

 

In April 1969, Gail married her first husband, Ron, whom she met at Camp Rainbow (summer program for emotionally disturbed children), where she was a camp counselor the previous summer and the following year.  Ron was a highly intelligent guy who was into wood working and aspired to become an architect.  He was very accepting of me with my disability and loved me.  He also got along well with the rest of the members of my family.  He was brought up locally in Westchester County, NY with a younger brother.  Gail and Ron took me out to restaurants and movies.

One morning on July 20, 1969, a day before my twelfth birthday, while I was in my second summer in Camp Ramapo-Anchorage, the entire camp gathered together to watch live coverage of three American astronauts of Apollo 11, the first ever to land and walk on the moon.  I was very impressed with this accomplishment.  This got me interested in astronomy, although I didn’t pursue it much other than reading an introductory book on the subject and studying it for a few weeks in high school.

Every so often I pondered on questions about the universe, such as where are the limits or is there anything beyond?  I used to imagine that there are all sorts of life forms on other planets throughout all the galaxies.  Out of that huge unfathomable number, there much be at least a few stars with solar systems which have planets that support life.  At summer camp when ever I was outside in a field on a clear night, I used to look up into the heavens and study the constellations and admire the brilliance of all the stars that are many light years away.

When there was a total solar eclipse visible in my area during the early afternoon on March 7, 1970, I got excited and rushed out to view it only for a split second since I was warned that there was still enough brightness to cause blindness.  I was amazed that as this was occurring outdoors got just as dark in the middle of the day as it normally was at nighttime.

 

On one spring day in 1969, I visited a day school for emotionally challenged children, the Summit School that was located in Forest Hills which would have been a lot shorter commute for me.  I was assigned to one of their classes for the entire day to get the feel of the school.  I recognized a few of the children in that class from Camp Ramapo-Anchorage, which made my eyes light up.

During lunch time, the meal was delivered up to the classroom and served on individual trays, airline style.  I preferred serving ourselves and passing the food around the table in the lunchroom like in the League School.  Since the school day ended an hour later in the Summit School than mine, I wouldn’t be getting home earlier.  So, I didn’t see much advantage in switching over to that school.  My mother didn’t think that it was as good as the League School.

Though I didn’t have much problems living with my folks, I wanted to see if some boarding schools would have students that were more typical than the ones in the League School.  I wanted to live in a more secluded environment for a change.  I hoped that the boarding schools would provide me with increased opportunities to be integrated and mainstreamed in regular classes where most of the other children would have less severe disabilities than my peers at my school.  My mother, Gail and I looked into several boarding schools that accepted emotionally disturbed children for me to go as a possible option for a change of pace.  The first two, the Green Chimney and the Linden Hill School were located in nice areas in Westchester County, just north of New York City.  We visited them in the summer of 1969.

Each house in the residential area of Green Chimney contained a group of about six or eight girls or boys with a set of house parents for supervision.  The rooms were very nice in a home-like environment. 

About a month later, I became interested again in a boarding school.  So, my mother and I visited Linden Hill, which like Green Chimney, had a lovely campus.   The residential areas were set up in buildings resembling college dormitories.  During our visit to that school, we ran into a few boys I knew from the League School, including Ralph and Stuart, and also a friendly girl with autism from one of my bunks in Camp Ramapo.  It made me feel good to see the eyes of these children light up as they expressed excitement in seeing me.

After touring each school, even though my folks and I liked the appearances of them, I got so nervous about making a big change and leaving home for the entire school-year that I performed poorly on the interviews.  At the interviews I acted up by wiggling in the chair and asking silly questions about what time the school day ended.  I got afraid of making a change into a new situation whenever it came down to making the final decision.  I had fears of rules being much more rigid than what I was used to from my rather permissive upbringing.

My family was disappointed in me, especially at Green Chimney which appeared to be the nicest place we looked at.  Though my parents didn’t really need to send me away, they had some challenging moments with me throughout my youth such as when I talked excessively about my perseverations.

In addition, my mother and I checked out two schools, referred by Gail’s father-in-law, which were more inappropriate for me.  We visited one school in Highland, New York which is in the northern part of the state by the Adirondacks.  It took us about five hours to get there by a Greyhound bus on a nice spring day in 1970.  The campus was in a nice secluded area in the foothills.  The students slept in dome dorms with several others in a group.  We were invited and joined the teenagers for dinner.

That school was basically geared for teens that came from troubled homes or were hooked on drugs and needed a place for rehabilitation.  We both felt that this wasn’t an appropriate place for me.  Luckily, one parent who was visiting her child drove us home since she was going that way.

We visited a boarding school for challenged adolescents located in eastern Pennsylvania.  We were driven by Gail’s father-in-law who had connections with the school.  There was one girl who had transferred from the League School.  That residential school was in a beautiful area away from the cities.  But, the students there had much more severe disabilities than I, so we didn’t feel that this would be an appropriate placement for me.

 

When we received a postcard from friends of my parents who vacationed in Miami, Florida, I began developing a desire to visit and move there so I could enjoy warm, summer-like weather all year round.  For several months, I pretended continuously that we had lived there.

Then, when I saw nice pictures of Acapulco, Mexico, I switched from Miami in my fantasy world for the next several months through the winter of 1970 when I was twelve and a half.  Since Acapulco is further south than Miami, I assumed that the Acapulco would be warmer.  Since I never traveled in my childhood to any tropical area, I was curious about what it is like to be there.  I thought that with nicer winter weather there that I might be happier and have less stress.

Since I saw no means of travel available to me, it was much easier for me to pretend that I lived in the tropics rather than face the problems in my own environment.  I used to assume that if I moved away, that my challenges related to autism would dissolve.  It didn’t occur to me that my problems would follow me where ever I went until I faced them head on and got to the root causes.

 

When I was twelve, my commute to and from the League School was easier compared to the other years.  It took only half as long both ways as it had taken.  That was because in that school year, there was only one stop to be made in Brooklyn with the rest being made in Queens, when I was the next one dropped off.  It felt better to be home by 2:30 PM instead of 4:00, mostly for watching more of the afternoon cartoons.

At school, I enjoyed it when my teachers shared their hobbies with the pupils.  For example, one of my teachers was into photo processing and brought all of her equipment and solutions to school for everybody to use.  Luckily there was one storeroom in the building that was dark and was available to be set up as a darkroom.  Several of us brought in negatives to produce black and white pictures.  I enjoyed learning new things, including making enlargements.

One man who taught in my school brought in bunches of small plastic pieces in all sorts of geometric shapes and colors for every one to use to make jewelry or small sculptures.  Special transparent glue was provided to hold the pieces together.  I made a pair of earrings and a small sculpture.  I loved the brilliant transparent colors of the plastics.

Occasionally throughout my school years, college students who were studying special education came to my school and helped out in classes a few days a week for several months at a time.  I enjoyed getting to know them until they moved on in their careers.

 

From the late sixties through the early seventies as a sign of more maturity, I lost interest in cartoons and got more into family type programs and certain comedy series; the Lucy shows, sitcoms with magic, and series with children; the Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family.  I watched the same episodes over and over again until I got tired of viewing shows in which I already knew what was going to happen.

I enjoyed looking at the children that appeared in family shows such as the “Brady Brunch”, because they were so cute and often acted out childhood problems that I was able to relate to, such as rejection, loneliness, jealousy, and low self esteem.  I also liked shows that depicted fantasy with magic and witchcraft such as “Bewitched”.  Moreover, I related very well to the characters in the comedy series who acted silly, since occasionally I acted bizarre too, such as saying inappropriate things before I thought about what to say and how to say them.

 

In the autumn of 1969, Gail and Ron moved into a beautiful rustic bungalow, just across the road from the Candlewood Lake in New Milford, Connecticut.  They moved in just at the start of the off-peak time of the year when the rates dropped from high summer weekly rates to low monthly rents from fall through spring.

My mother and I used to take a train from Penn Central Station in Manhattan to Danbury, Conn. about once a month to visit them.  They picked us up from the station and drove through the New England countryside with brilliant colors of the leaves in the fall and a nice snowy scene in the winter.  The air seemed clearer there than in New York City.  The stars and constellations appeared much brighter on a clear night.  On our first weekend there, which was a nice warm weekend in early October, I swam in the Candlewood Lake before it got too cold. 

For several months when Gail and Ron weren’t making much money, they rented out the two loft-style attic bedrooms to two boarders who appeared to be friendly guys.  I enjoyed meeting them.  On cool winter evenings, we had the fireplace going.  I enjoyed very much watching the fire with it’s flowing forms.  The fire was a novelty to me, since we had never a fireplace.  That looked especially nice in a living room with walls covered with real cedar paneling.  One weekend we were there we got about a foot of snow.  I felt like it was in winter wonderland.  When ever we visited Gail and Ron, I often played certain selections from their rock records over and over again on the stereo in their study.

Since Ron was into carpentry and cabinet making, he set up shop in the large porch area in front of their place.  He was very creative in furniture design and made several pieces of furniture, such as various shelves, a teak cocktail table with storage area and a sliding opening on top, desks, dressers, and wall units.  He was so devoted to me, that he made me a beautiful miniature walnut dresser as a jewelry box.  He spent a lot of time on it since that took almost as long as making a full-sized one.  I felt elated that my brother-in-law cared for me so much as to do a lot for me.

In addition, he made my folks a wall unit of various kinds of wood with a series of shelves and cabinets that filled up the entire large wall space in our living room.  We used it to store our stereo, tape recorder, records, books, knickknacks and a few plants.  My folks rearranged some furniture to make room for it.

In May 1970, Gail and Ron moved to Ravenna, Ohio so he could go to Kent State University for their architecture program and live near some of his friends.  On their way from Connecticut to Ohio, they stopped at our place over night until the next afternoon.  I had a conflict since there was supposed to be a class field trip to Coney Island Beach that day.  I had a hard time deciding whether to go to school for the outing or to stay home with Gail and Ron since I wouldn’t see them until months later.  I chose the latter since I realized that there would be other times that I could go to that beach.

 

Several months earlier, Gail became pregnant and then gave birth to a lovely daughter, Tej, on October 17, 1970 when I was thirteen.  Gail got the idea for the original name from friends who named their child, Toj.  A few days after Tej’s birth, my grandma, my mother, and I flew by American Airlines from the LaGuardia Airport to Cleveland to spend two weeks with the baby.  This was the first time that I was in an airplane.  I enjoyed the flight, looking out the window onto the land below that was without cloud cover.

They lived in a charming old rented house with a large kitchen.  It was right in town, only blocks away from the stores.  When we first arrived, we visited Gail and Tej at the hospital which was a ways from their place.  During the days, I had fun taking walks to the stores to browse and shop at Woolworths.  Shortly after Gail and Tej came home, we all went to a drive-in movie theater to see Dr. Zhivago.  My father and Bob came later to see Tej, but only for a few days.  I had no problems in getting time off from school, since I was able to make up the work quickly.

Exactly a week before Tej was born, I got my ears pierced since both my mother and Gail had theirs done and I didn’t want to feel left out.  For several years I wore earrings every day until my interest started to wane, and then wore them less and less.  When ever I wore them just once in a while, such as once a month, my ears would get irritated after a few hours.  On the other hand, when ever I put them on more regularly, such as daily, it was no problem with any type of earrings.

 

My school acquired several small sewing machines that just did the basic stitches for pupils to use, especially the girls to teach additional skills.  Somebody donated a bunch of fabric scraps and all sorts of notions.  I helped myself to some of them.  I sewed several doll outfits of my own designs.  At home with Grandma Rae’s old Singer sewing machine that she gave me, I sewed several outfits for my mother and I to wear.  This gave me a great sense of accomplishment.

In addition, I got into knitting and crocheting.  The first thing that I knitted was a single-stitch striped scarf with brown and tan yarns when I was ten.  Several years later, I knitted short sleeves onto a hot-pink sweater that my mother had started years earlier.  I had crocheted much more, because I found it much easier than knitting.  This helped calm down my nerves and provided me with solace from my adolescent turbulence and loneliness.  I did two things to wear in pink yarns–a double-stitched long vest and a poncho, both with fringes.  I continued with several other projects on and off over the years, especially when I would go out or be away from home.

It is common in autism to have phases in something, such as color preferences.  For around two years during my early teens, my favorite colors were pink and yellow.  Pink stood for the color of many flowers and yellow stood for the color of the sun and warmth.  I used to like these colors together.  All the people in my drawings wore pink and yellow outfits.  Even the furniture in my indoor scenes was these colors.  However, several years later, I went almost to the other extreme of picking out mostly neutral tones of browns and grays for my fabrics and art compositions.         

 

In June 1970, I went along with my mother and grandmother to Bob’s high school graduation, which took place in a nice park.  At the same time that I was happy for my brother to pass this milestone, I had thoughts if I ever would be able to graduate from high school and go on to college too.  I harbored doubts about my future since I was painfully aware that I didn’t fit in with my peers, due to my social ineptitude.  I was mature enough to sit for a few hours.  As usual, I went into a trance since I couldn’t pay attention to the speeches well.  I still enjoyed watching the people and just being out in the park in the beautiful weather we had for the occasion.  Just a few years earlier when I was almost ten, I didn’t come along for Gail’s because they didn’t feel that I was able to sit for the whole thing.

Starting the following fall, Bob went to the state university in New Paltz, NY for a few years.  He majored in biology with aspirations to get into medical school.  The campus was by the Catskills and the Hudson River.  There were also several lakes and resorts close by.  I then began to dream about going to college some day.

My mother became concerned about me being lonely after school until she and my father came home from work, since Bob was away from home.  She hired a friendly woman in her fifties, who was recommended by close friends, to come over to our place to be with me in the afternoons until my father came home.  Though she never initiated any activities for me, she was still very nice to me.  Sometimes, she brought us homemade sponge cake that she baked.  We talked to each other a little bit.  She basically let me do my own things.

 

On one field trip in school when we visited one art gallery in Manhattan, Sally who lived close by invited the whole class to her loft-style apartment for lunch.  This was the most fun part of the outing for me, since I did this much less often than just visiting the public places.  This trip was similar to one that I went on with my class four years earlier–when we went to visit shops or galleries in Manhattan.  My teacher, Norma, who lived in the area, invited us to her apartment for lunch.

 

When I heard how super wealthy certain famous people were (including industrialists and actors)–I used to wonder what it was like to be so rich that I can have any material comfort or go anywhere to my whim.  I began to fantasize about being independently wealthy with billions of dollars to my name.  In this day dream, I got this way by becoming super successful in my business in selling my artworks and designs to various places.  I named my company, “Rich ‘n Beautiful,” and designed a trademark–consisted of a tulip shape in the middle with compartments, lettered “R” and “B”, protruding out from either side in pink or yellow.  I would be able to afford living in a gigantic fifty-room mansion that was so huge that I coined a term which meant larger than mansions, “Beautredge.”  I loved this sound which has the same base as “beauty.” 

Again, I used fantasy as an escape from my problems of low confidence related to autism.  I wondered if having lots of money would make up for it and bring greater happiness and freedom.  I had concerns about my future whether I would ever be convincing enough to be hired for a good job that would pay enough to support myself.  I thought that if I were independently wealthy I would never need to worry about finding a job when I become an adult since all of my needs would be taken care of without a job.  I didn’t have any regards to the non-financial rewards that could come from employment.  I felt that money would provide me with security to my future with a great deal of uncertainties.

I got the idea from owning a business from Gail’s in-laws who had a successful chandelier and lighting corporation.  They were well-to-do and lived in a lovely home in Largemont, NY, an affluent area north of New York City. 

Since I didn’t know any millionaires yet, I had no way of knowing the truth of abundant wealth.  Over the years as I read various articles on the experiences of the super wealthy, I learned that they aren’t necessarily better off than the rest of us.  A few of them can even be so miserable as to be suicidal.  All that money does is enable one to obtain the necessities for survival in a complex civilization.  It might make certain things easier, beyond that, it doesn’t do anything valuable other than being used to help the needy.  Basically, those who are wealthy are just like anyone else.  Money may change the outward appearance, but it can’t alter the inner core of one’s personality.

From contemplating the effects of wealth, I developed some interest in economics.  After Bob took a course on introduction to economics in his freshmen year and brought home the textbook, I read the entire book and grasped the basic concepts.  In addition, I read a few library books on the subject, including a book on the Great Depression of the thirties.  After a while, my interest in economics started to wane.

 

Just before we moved back to Forest Hills, NY in April 1971, I began to get tired of my collection of dolls.  Since we were getting ready for the move by getting rid of our junk and packing up our keepsakes, it was a good time to evaluate my things.  I brought most of my toys to my school for others to help themselves to.  This included my original Barbie dolls from the early sixties that I probably should have kept for it is considered a collectable and gone up in value.  In addition, I saved a few of my newer dolls for Tej who was only about six months old.  Tej ruined most of the dolls I had given her by the time she was a year old, since she was much too young to know how to play with such toys.  On more of the positive note, this provided me with a learning experience.

One of the main reasons we moved was that my mother missed our old neighborhood and didn’t care for Corona which wasn’t as nice.  Moreover, the upkeep in our building in Lefrac City had deteriorated throughout the three years we lived there.  We moved into a lovely two-bedroom apartment with a terrace view from my parent’s bedroom.

Even though it had one less bedroom than Lafrac City, it made up the space with a large foyer (about the size of a bedroom) that lead into the living room–where we had Bob’s bed and chest of drawers.  Off to the side of the kitchen, was a dining area that was closed off from rest of the unit by the foyer.  Our building had a nice lobby with a part time doorman.  This was on a relatively quiet residential street that was only less than a mile from the most affluent neighborhood of the city, Old Forest Hills, where there were a lot of impressive mansions and estates.

Occasionally when the weather was nice, we walked over there.  During our walks, I discovered a record store that sold old albums and singles.  I was excited that I had finally found a place which had several old single hits from the sixties available.  I had looked in other stores that sold records, but they didn’t have the 45’s I was looking for, since they sold only the most current ones within the top sixty.  I also found a store that sold old singles at clearance reduced prices where I bought some.  Music was very important for me in reducing my nervous tension from the autism.

 

In June of 1971, when we hosted a family reunion with the Chasan family, about forty people came from all over the country.  Gail, Ron, and Tej came so we were able to show off the baby.  I had a very nice time getting together with relatives that I hadn’t seen in years and doing business with them.

One cousin who came from Illinois admired one stuffed animal I had made with colorful fabric into a horse-like creature.  She had two small daughters and asked me to make stuffed horses for them.  She paid me for the project and I was very thrilled that someone hired me to do what I enjoyed very much.  I was excited about making some money even though it was small.

Over a year later, I sold another craft project to relatives, a needle-point pillow of birds and flowers on a black background with black trimming to Uncle Jack and Naomi.  This project was given to me as a kit with nice cotton yarn.  Again, I was enthused to make some more money here and there, especially by getting paid more for a bigger project.  I felt that I was being valued and shown capable by making some money.  This boosted my self esteem temporarily.

 

Even though I liked Camp Ramapo-Anchorage, I wanted to go some place else for a change.  I asked my mother to check out other camps.  She contacted Samual Field Y, where I had attended day camp several years earlier.  They had just started a sleep-a-way camp program that was located in Brewster, New York, about fifty miles north of New York City.  During the summer of 1971, I went to there for eight weeks straight.  This camp was more geared towards teenagers with challenges, much smaller and somewhat less structured than Camp Ramapo-Anchorage.  The area was also nice and secluded.  There was a lake for swimming.  We were on our own during swimming, although there was help when needed and life guards.

Like my other camp, there were five other girls and two counselors in my bunk.  Most of these girls had just mild or borderline disabilities–from autism, epilepsy, learning disabilities, and emotional disturbances.  They were all nice to me.  For example, one girl always shared candy and wrote to me after camp.  Another girl, Ronnie had been in my bunk a few times in my other camp.  It was fun being with her again. 

On the weekdays, a few hours in the morning were set aside for vocational training.  Some campers had part-time jobs with various businesses in Brewster for their training.  Others, including myself, remained in camp.  I was placed in a group of about six other girls who did hand sewing as our vocation.  One of the two counselors, who watched our group, seemed to have followed me from the other camp.  I also had her in one of my bunks the previous year in Camp Ramapo-Anchorage.  It was nice having her again.  Since there were no sewing machines our projects took a long time.  But it was still fun and relaxing.  I made two purses–red corduroy with lining; and black cotton velvet with embroidery out of my own designs.

Every week, each camper got an allowance from three to five dollars, depending on whether one worked in or out.  Those that worked out in town got the higher amount.  Even though I enjoyed what I was doing, I was a little bit jealous and wanted the higher allowance.  I realized that there weren’t enough jobs in town to go around for everyone.  I felt it was a good idea for the camp to hand out some money to spend on field trips or when in town.  In addition, it provided more opportunities for campers with disabilities to develop skills in money management and the thrill of getting paid for their work, though the allowance was much less than the minimum wage.

Every Monday evening my bunk went to town to do our own laundry in a laundro-mat.  We were provided with enough change to operate the machines.  While our clothes were being washed, we went to the few stores nearby.  It was just as well that we did it ourselves, as we could have more opportunity to develop a greater sense of responsibility.  Besides, I enjoyed the ride back and forth on the country roads.

In addition, we went on field trips every week.  Sometimes, we went with the entire camp, and other times we went in our separate groups.  We went to all sorts of places–such as parks for picnics and Camp-outs, museums, movies, bowling, and the county fair in Rye, New York.  The camp also provided standard activities–such as swimming, arts and crafts, evening dances, and cook-outs.  During the last evening of camp just before we all went home, we had a special banquet dinner.

Within a few months after camp, a very friendly girl from my bunk invited a few of us from the bunk, including myself to her apartment on a Saturday afternoon for a mini camp reunion.  I walked there since she lived very close, about a mile away.  Even though I was excited about going, I got a little nervous upon arrival.  Since, I still lacked confidence in myself, I harbored a tiny bit of doubt about whether the invitation was for real.  I also was worried about being too early.  Before I knocked on her door, I stood there for about ten minutes to work out my concerns.  Once she let me in, all of my worries flew away and I had a great time.

Ronnie was in my bunks at both of my summer camps.  She was very friendly.  We became friends and saw each other after camp.  She lived only a few blocks down on the same street as I.  Despite my challenges, my life was much more normal making friends and doing various things on my own. 

A few times in the autumn of 1971when I was fourteen, Ronnie and I went to a Saturday program at the Samual Field Y in Little Nyck, N. Y. for teenagers with disabilities.  Our parents thought it would provide more social opportunities.  We went together by bus.  The meetings were loosely structured to provide opportunities in socializing with each other.  The turn out was low, about five of us at the first meeting when we introduced ourselves.  One session we had Halloween parties with a lot of candy everyone to enjoy.  There was plenty left for each person to take home.  The other meetings were canceled due to lack of interest.  This was just as well since I wasn’t thrilled to go regularly anyway.  I still kept contact with Ronnie and visited her a few times, including when she had her birthday party.

 

My mother contacted two young, female, social workers, who ran a program called, Explore, which organized Saturday outings for adolescents with challenges.  They were contacts of Gail’s father-in-law.  They discontinued the program, but they offered to work with me two evenings a week.  These women were interested in working with me on improving my appearance.  My folks knew that this would benefit me.  My posture and gait were poor and crude.  I went by bus to where this was held at the apartment of one of the women, who was Indian, in Manhattan.  Small refreshments were served, which was the most fun part of the evening.

One evening, when I was on my way there, I got so upset about going so often that I cried even on the bus–though, I didn’t do it very often.  I felt that my afternoon rest time that I needed was being impinged upon.  After I attended several sessions, I stopped going with my parent’s approval.  My energy levels weren’t high enough to go out in the evenings after full days in school with a long commute.  I was often tired when I came home from school.  It was too bad that I wasn’t able to continue–I could have used more training on my outward appearance.  Without follow-through, my gains in my appearance went by the wayside for many years, since I didn’t practice enough.  I slipped right back into my old habits without thinking about them.

 

Aside from poor posture, I had some more things to work on in my life–such as an eating disorder and a need for more socialization.  Shortly following puberty when I was twelve years old, I began to become preoccupied with food and started to overeat with excessive snacks.  Besides having breakfast and a big lunch at school, I used to eat almost as much in my snack as I would in a whole meal when I came home from school.  I began to cook to make things easier for my mother since she was working full time and sometimes she worked late and didn’t come home until after nine.

By January of 1970 when I was twelve and a half, I had gained at least twenty pounds during the previous six months.  This became noticeable to my family.  They started to urge me to watch my weight.  I began to appear a little plump at 145 pounds with a height of 5′7″ and a broad frame.  I had been slim throughout my entire childhood, when I ate only when I was hungry, rather than to reduce stress.  I began to become concern about my weight and feel bad about myself.

I felt so ugly about my added body fat, that I became very anxious to lose weight as fast as possible and developed anorexia nervosa.  I gave up almost all carbohydrates since diet books out that time restricted them the most in their weight loss plans.  I ate an equivalent to about a cup of low-calorie food a day, which included my proteins and vegetables.  This was also when I switched from drinking whole milk to skimmed milk.  One good thing was that I started to exercise more–calisthenics with jumping and more walks outside.  I memorized the calorie charts of various foodstuffs and applied to everything I ate daily.

After several months on this regime, I lost over thirty pounds and got down to 112 pounds, which was way to little for my height and build.  All of my bones started to stick out.  I felt poorly of myself that my self image became greatly distorted and I wasn’t able to see how thin I was.  I became so skinny that people thought that I looked like a concentration camp victim of World War II.  I also started to get very weak and wasn’t able to keep up with the physical activities at camp.

The camp officers got very concerned about me and called my mother to talk to me.  She explained to me that I could die if I lost too much weight.  This made a lot of sense to me, since I was getting weaker and I began to realize then that I was too skinny.  So, I gave up a semi-starvation diet and went back to my old eating habits and into bingeing.  I felt so lucky to be alive, that I overcame anorexia nervosa in time, before I starved to death like some other girls afflicted with the disorder.

Actually the whole time I was starving myself, I felt hunger all the time and food was always on my mind.  I just let my strong determination to get slim fast override everything else.  The distorted image of me was reflected from my low self-esteem.  It was also an issue of control–since I lost control over things in my life, at least I could control my weight.  It took me several months to gain back my weight.

When I was home after camp where I had unlimited access to food, my over-eating was as bad as ever.  Since I fixated too much on food, I binged on all the snack foods that were around.  It was difficult to restrain myself from the temptations.  For instance, whenever my father walked through the door with bakery goods, I rushed over to grab the bag from his arms and immediately ate the products.

Whenever I went to parties with my parents where buffets were served, I really was bad in controlling my eating.  I ate constantly almost all evening long until I was so stuffed that I was about to burst.  It was as though my stomach was a bottomless pit.  Even though, I continually felt miserable with stomach aches and slight nausea and gas after a party, I couldn’t make myself stop eating when I should have.  I was addicted to food as it was soothing for my frazzled nerves.  Since carbohydrates generally stimulate the pleasure receptors in the brain, they produced feelings of calm and euphoria.  For this reason, eating disorders are common in autism, since there is generally greater need for relaxation and elevation of moods.

Even in school when there were parties, I tended to take more than my share of the refreshments.  Sally, my teacher, was very good of trying to get me to control the amounts of the party foods I ate.  She wanted me to learn to be more considerate of others by leaving more food for others.  I resented her having that much control over me, though she was fulfilling her responsibility as a teacher to correct my wrong-doing.  Even with coaching, it still remained very difficult for me to control my eating and I wasn’t able to gain enough control.

One of the times I fought with her about it, my class was being filmed for a TV show.  I was in it, showing off my anger.  I didn’t care if many people were watching me.  I was shown eating cake and ice-cream with milk displaying poor table manners such as lip smacking and slouching.  I was shown arguing which wasn’t my usual self.  It was too bad that I was in my worst behavior while being filmed.

As I got more into a cooking and baking phase I tried out various recipes from cookbooks, magazines, and cards for more complicated dishes such as soufflés, tuna-cheese role-ups, fritters, and fancy desserts.

 

When friends of my parents, Bella and Irv, moved very close to us, only blocks away, we visited each other often.  They had two daughters–the first one, three years older than I, and her second one, five years younger than I.  I joined them for everything, since I didn’t have many friends to hang out with.  Besides, I enjoyed going out with my parents and mingling with their friends.  We went on walks and ate out together regularly. 

Bella had parties often, in which I was always invited along with my folks and other friends.  For example, she had a birthday party on November 1971 for Irv and my father for both their forty-seventh birthdays.  Bella and Irv were always very nice to me.  They accepted and loved me and gave me gifts for the holidays.  Whenever I walked to Alexanders or the fabric store close by after school, I stopped by their place which was on the way.  Bella was usually home and invited me in and served me milk and cookies.

One of the things that I had difficulty in dealing with was not being able to go to any party that my parents were invited to.  I enjoyed parties very much, especially where there was food.  Whenever I couldn’t go when my folks did, I felt left out regardless of the reason.  I felt like that I wasn’t wanted.  It made me feel good to be included in things, since I didn’t have much of a social life of my own.  My friends, who were mostly from school, invited me just once in a while to their places.  I wanted my folks to take me everywhere they went.  Whenever they didn’t, especially to parties, I demanded that they would.  I would get angry and wouldn’t take no for the answer as though this was my right to be included every time.

There was one instance when my mother was talking to a friend, who had obesity, about my problems with loneliness that responded and invited me to her apartment to be with their daughter, who was also very heavy and only a year older than me.  I had a very nice time becoming acquainted with the girl.  That made my evening.  She didn’t seem to mind having me over, while her parents were at a party with mine.  She also enjoyed meeting other teenagers close to her age.  I really appreciated the thoughtfulness of the family to invite me so I wouldn’t be as lonely.  Since they lived in the same development as where the party was, they brought us food from there.

As I entered adolescence it had become more difficult to make friends, since my autism and a short attention span made it harder to keep up with the maturing of my peers with their increasingly complex socialization.  When children mature to become teenagers, their interactions with peers become more socially complex with less reliance on props or toys.  In addition, teenagers tend to form their friendships in cliques from their contacts in school which made them less available for meeting me in the neighborhood.

There was another time in which I was invited along with my family, but couldn’t go.  For example, one time when Bella and Irv had a holiday party and invited my whole family, I was sick with a bad cold.  But at least my grandmother stayed home with me to keep me company while my folks went.  I was really disappointed that I had to be sick then.  Why not any other time when I wasn’t invited anywhere?

One day when, Claire, a mutual good friend of Bella and my mother, took me out to pick out a gift, my self-centered nature took hold of me.  Claire, like Bella, was very nice to me.  She often included me along with my folks to her parties.  She owned a cosmetics store that was close to our first place in Forest Hills.  She wanted me to pick out something from her store.  I had difficulty in making a choice, since I wasn’t into make-up, unlike most other teenage girls.

I went around the entire store several times for at least a half hour–long time for me to make up my mind.  After a few minutes, Claire brought out a product that she had a special on, a fancy lighted make-up mirror.  I almost went for that, since this was on sale and I wasn’t all that interested in anything else in the store–even though I probably would never use it.

Afterwards, I thought about the first album by The Partridge Family that I really wanted more than anything else.  I requested that record from her instead of her merchandise.  She gave in to me and went to the record store for it as my gift.  It was too bad that I didn’t think of choosing things that I would use from her store other than make-up–shampoos, soaps, lotions, and colognes.  It would have been much easier for her.

Aside from my self-centeredness, another part of me shined through occasionally, when I was helpful to others.  For example, after my mother hired a woman to clean our apartment every other week, I began to help out more with the household chores–vacuuming, dusting, and cleaning the bathroom and floors.  From working full-time plus raising a family, my mother wasn’t able to handle the chores too.  I didn’t like the idea of her paying someone to clean, so that was when I decided to do more so the cleaning lady doesn’t need to come as often.  I had a lot of time on my hands anyway.  I didn’t mind doing the chores too much.

One day I overheard my mother talk to a friend, whom she met decades earlier during the fifties before I was born, and who invited my mother to her place in an affluent section near the Forest Hills High School.  When my mother went, I noticed she left the address on her dresser where I could see it.  I got the idea of walking over.  I told my father, who stayed home, that I was just going on a walk.  I didn’t tell him my entire plan so I wouldn’t give him more of a chance to say “no”.  When I arrived there, my mother was a bit surprised and a little bit taken aback that I went to that friend’s house when they didn’t know each other that well. 

The friend was very understanding and nice to me.  She welcomed me and introduced me to her teenage daughter who was very close to my age.  She served me her home-made banana-nut bread.  She also gave me a beautiful cotton poncho that had several bright colors on a black background that was made in Mexico.  I was elated that I was given a gift, especially since that was the first time she met me.  She took us on a tour of her lovely home, which I enjoyed very much.  It turned out to be a fun evening for everyone after all.

 

When I was fourteen, I began to be placed in more advanced classes in mathematics and language arts.  I was learning basic algebra, which I good in it and enjoyed very much.  I was thrilled to be able to go beyond arithmetic.  In language arts, we started to read more books and do reports and have class discussions on them.  I began to develop an interest to read novels such as Little Women by Louse Alcott and “The New York Times” on my own time, though I still didn’t read as much as I should have.

 

Once during autumn, Bob drove both my parents and I to Ohio to see Gail and her family for a long weekend, which was about 500 miles away.  My father helped with the driving when Bob needed to rest.  My mother didn’t have her driver’s license yet since she never needed to drive in the city. 

Bob had bought himself, a brand new compact sports car.  The front was roomy with the two seats.  Though the back was very cramped with small seats, we still managed okay for the eight-hour ride each way.  Even being seated in the back for the entire time both ways, I had a lot of fun looking out the window as I was in a trance–all along Interstate 80, through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and eastern Ohio.  I let my mind got lost into the scenery.  Sometimes, I rocked my head.

My mother and I flew to see Gail and her family for a weekend in fall of 1971 for Tej’s first birthday and to see their new house in Kent, Ohio.   We went to Ohio once by Greyhound Bus to Akron, Ohio to reduce cost while visiting them.  They picked us up at the bus depot to take us to.  I enjoyed the trip, but, it was too tiring to my mother–especially since we took the all-night run and she wasn’t able to sleep in an upright position.  Since then my mother flew alone for the subsequent weekend visits and I only went during the summer when I had extended time off from school. 

On June 12, 1972 when I was almost fifteen, Gail had her second daughter, whom she named, Lisa.  Ron chose a much more common name that time, since they couldn’t come up with any other unusual names that they liked and Gail chose Tej for their first child.  Right after school, only two weeks later, I went to see the baby.  I decided that I wasn’t going to summer camps anymore and instead help Gail with her little ones.   As soon as I came home from my last day in school, Bob drove my father and me to there.  The men stayed for only a few days, but I remained for about seven weeks.

This was a valuable experience to be with the family, so I could learn the responsibilities of raising small children, and Gail needed me.  Before my nieces came along, I didn’t realize that it was a lot of work involved in their care.  I had previously thought about getting married and having two children (preferably girls) someday.

But, after that summer when I had gained some experience of caring for small children, I reconsidered and didn’t want to become a mother–though I heard that Tej and Lisa were relatively easy to take care.  I wasn’t a very good aunt since I didn’t pay as much attention to the girls as I should had.  I did my best when they were infants when waving toys and caressing them were more sufficient.  This was so much easier than to engage into more social activities when they became more mature.  Due to my central auditory processing deficit (CAPD), it was much harder to understand small children with their higher pitch and sometimes softer voices.  This lowered my confidence in relating to them.

I lacked confidence in entertaining them.  But, when Gail and Ron went out and left me with the girls, I exerted great effort in baby-sitting them.  I read and play simple games with them.  I knew better then to ignore them when I was in charge.  I was good about helping with the basic things–household and kitchen chores, and my nieces’ basic hygiene needs and feeding.

While I was with Gail for only for the summer, she pointed out things for me to work on myself that my parents overlooked.  For example, she alerted me to become more with it and respond quicker to other people when they needed me to move out of their way or to provide immediate assistance as needed.  She talked to me about the need to snap out of my trances when my attention was needed.  This resulted from my spaciness and attention deficit disorder.  It was difficult to be continuously aware of others around me.  My trances occupied my mind so much that I wasn’t aware of the people around me.

 

In addition, I had a tendency to behave inappropriately in new situations where I didn’t have much experience.  For example, when I went with Gail and the girls to drop by her friends while they were having lunch and dinner.  When part of their meals, cauliflower and tacos, were offered, I rushed over to get the food.  Gail taught me that it wasn’t polite to take any food that was offered by people when one stopped by unexpectingly at mealtime.  It was difficult for me to understand, and then it sunk in after a little while so I was able to grasp it.

Just shortly after my lesson, I visited some neighbors just across the street from Gail’s.  Just before I had lunch with them, I called Gail to make sure that it was okay to eat in their house.  She said, “yes”, because I was invited which made sense to me.  The family, who had me over, had six children–the oldest was a girl only a year younger than me and had mild mental retardation.  Hearing about my challenges, they were interested in becoming acquainted with me.

Even though I enjoyed very much meeting the girl with a disability and she was very friendly I didn’t get together to do things with her.  It wasn’t easy to make the initiative of seeing each other.  Our interests were different and we didn’t find a common ground.  This was made more challenging by our intellect levels being so different.  Despite her lower intellectual capacity she was probably more social than I.  I didn’t have confidence of relating to her in addition to not relating well to most other teenage girls close to my age.

Her mother introduced Gail and me to brewer’s yeast, for it high protein and B vitamin content.  She mixed it with orange juice every morning and serves it to her whole family.  She claimed that it gave them more energy.  It didn’t taste so great–even in juice, but, I was still able to drink it down.  I wanted to try it with hope that it would improve my health for a greater vitality.  I didn’t notice any change from taking it so I discontinued.

 

During the second week in August, Gail and Ron felt a great urgency to drive me home so they could see Grandma Rae and for her to see Lisa for the first time.  Her health was deteriorating.  We had a very nice family gathering and we all went to the Bronx Zoo and rented a wheelchair for Grandma Rae so she could come along.  We all had Italian ices afterwards.  It was a good thing that I was driven home from Ohio when I was.  That was the only time our grandmother got to meet the baby, at just two months old.

Grandma Rae’s arthritis had gotten progressively worse over the years–it flared up so bad here and there during her final few years, that she had a great deal of difficulty in getting out of bed.  She had taken all sorts of drugs to control the pain, which all lost their effectiveness.  Moreover, she had problems with her stomach and heart with high blood pressure.  She was in and out of the hospital several times during the past year.

One day when my parents and I was just coming back to our building after a short walk to get ice-cream, my mother’s cousins; Gitty, Adelle, and Sy were in front of our place waiting for us to get back.  They needed to wait until we were all up in our apartment to talk about the news to the family.  They knew that this would be a very hard blow to my family especially my mother.

They had just come from visiting Grandma Rae at the hospital and watched her die.  She passed away on August 27, 1972 in her mid-seventies when I was fifteen.  She was the last of my grandparents to go.  This was only after two weeks that Gail, Ron and the girls were around to see her.  It was as though that she was hanging on just a little bit longer, so she can get to see her second great-grandchild.  We saw her at the hospital two days earlier and her mind was still good and alert to the very end.  As much as I loved her and was sad for her, I knew that it was necessary for her to go to rest peacefully–she badly needed relief from the misery of illness and pain.

Gail and her family came back for her funeral and to haul back her furniture back to Ohio.  My mother and I went back with them to their place to help with loading and unloading.  Ron rented a small U-haul truck to be able to take the furniture.  As we were unloading the truck in Ohio, it just hit me that Grandma Rae wouldn’t be around for my adulthood and I broke out in tears and cried.  Up to that point, I handled her death very well–I had remained calm and didn’t get overly emotional.  It took awhile for my grief to sink in after the funeral, the excitement of having relatives come, and being on the road.  My father didn’t feel any emotion at all and wasn’t able to understand the feelings of people around him–one of the characteristics of autism.  It was as though he was impervious to the sorrows of death.  This was very hard on my mother as she cried and cried for days and continued to cry when triggering thoughts come up occasionally for a long time thereafter.

 

Besides his apparent lack of emotion my father had difficulty in caring for others by knowing the right things to do.  For example, when my mother was in the hospital for a few days to get stitches in her knee, he only visited her once.  This angered her.  He didn’t take any time off of work to be with her.  He didn’t understand what was expected of him in that situation.  Fortunately my mother’s supervisor from work stayed with her all of the first day at the hospital.  One morning when she was on her way to work, she tripped over a hose with a bottle of soda pop in her hand.  Her knee got badly cut with broken glass in the injury.

After my mother was admitted into the hospital, Bella and Irv invited my father and me to dinner the first evening.  Though I greatly appreciated their thoughtfulness of us and hospitality I felt very sad for my mother.  I knew that she was in pain and would be laid up for a while in a cast.  I had great empathy for my loved ones.  Sometimes I didn’t express it as well as I should have.

One Saturday, my father and I walked about five miles to the hospital to her, to make more of an outing and to save on transit fare.  This was a big walk for me.  I was thrilled by this accomplishment, even though my legs were a little tired for not being used to it.  Bella drove us home, since she arrived while we were still there.

A few hours later in the evening, we walked about a half a mile to a movie theater to see a double feature.  When it was over, I used the rest room without informing him.  I should have mentioned to him that I would be back a few minutes.  He didn’t know where I was and thought that I had left without him.  He went home without me.  I waited for him for a while until I realized that he left already.  I walked home alone.

On my way home on a dark side street late at night, a young guy approached me as he exposed his genitals and touched my breasts.  I got scared and ran into a apartment building there.  I thought that he might rape me.  I screamed and knocked on several doors until a friendly older woman let me in to call the police.  The police came to file a report. I went on home and everything was okay.  Since then, I never walked alone on a dark street so late at night.

 

For a while, the League School had put pressure on my folks to let me go to school by myself on the subway, since everyone else in my classes were going by public transportation.  Though my parents were reluctant to let me go alone through the low-income neighborhood, Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, they did come to a compromise of my going alone one way instead of both.  I still got picked up in the morning by the school’s van, but in the afternoon I came home by mass transit.  It was okay since I understood that it was a way to reduce cost by cutting back on van service.

One thing that we did in school to help modify our behavior, was to jot down a mark every time we did an undesirable habit or for desirable actions to be increased.  I chose the latter to improve my social skills.  I was aware that I wasn’t as social as many of the other teenagers that I knew.  I wanted to become more outgoing.  I had difficulty in initiating conversations and in participating in discussions.  I lacked spontaneity.  Any progress that I made was very slow.  But, I made slight gains in the frequency of initiation conversations since I charted my progress for a few months.  After keeping the chart my motivation fluctuated up and down in sustaining my social gains.  It was a great deal of strain to keep on trying to socialize.  But, I kept on improving over the years.

 

For a while, the League School had put pressure on my folks to let me go to school by myself on the subway, since everyone else in my classes were going by public transportation.  Though my parents were reluctant to let me go alone through the low-income neighborhood, Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, they did come to a compromise of my going alone one way instead of both.  I still got picked up in the morning by the school’s van, but in the afternoon I came home by mass transit.  It was okay since I understood that it was a way to reduce cost by cutting back on van service.

One thing that we did in school to help modify our behavior, was to jot down a mark every time we did an undesirable habit or for desirable actions to be increased.  I chose the latter to improve my social skills.  I was aware that I wasn’t as social as many of the other teenagers that I knew.  I wanted to become more outgoing.  I had difficulty in initiating conversations and in participating in discussions.  I lacked spontaneity.  Any progress that I made was very slow.  But, I made slight gains in the frequency of initiation conversations since I charted my progress for a few months.  After keeping the chart my motivation fluctuated up and down in sustaining my social gains.  It was a great deal of strain to keep on trying to socialize.  But, I kept on improving over the years.

 

For several months following my grandmother’s death, I was at a low web in my life.  The loss of a valuable family support had sunk in.  Being already high-school age and still going to the same school for over ten years, I needed a change.  I was depressed and wondered what it would be like to commit suicide.  But, I never would have killed myself as I always had too much hope, even during my lowest periods.  The League School made arraignments with the Kings County Hospital that was close by, to see a psychiatrist twice a week at the hospital.  They felt that this would benefit me by talking out my problems to someone. 

My psychiatrist wasn’t able to help.  I talked about my feelings of needing a change of school and about my problems in keeping up with my peers socially.  I didn’t get into the issues that concerned me the most, low self esteem, and what I could do to improve my appearance and mannerisms.  I had difficulty in expressing my fears of ever fitting in the society and what my future would be like for me.  I came out of my low when I found out that I was accepted to attend the Adams School right after the New Year, but on the condition that I continue therapy.  I only saw the psychiatrist for a few months.  It was too tiring for me, since it involved a lot of travel–from my new school in Manhattan to Brooklyn, and then home to Queens.  They all understood and let me discontinue.

My adolescence began with a series of turbulence which was marked by increased difficulty in controlling emotions and fear of growing up.  This caused regression in my mannerisms and socialization only to progress again later and emerge into a highly capable human being.  I became increasingly concerned about the outlook of my future and adulthood.  I was worried that if I wouldn’t fit in with society than I would never make it on my own.  As I adjusted to my hormone levels of womanhood, I became more concerned about improving my social skills.  I became interested in making friends which had led to steady gains in my development.

“Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes, with your right hand you save me.”—Psalm 138:7