I had faith with all the mountaineer activities I went to where there were large pools of men to choose from, that I would eventually find someone compatible.  I almost passed up such an opportunity.  When I noticed an annual Halloween party for singles in the Mountaineer bulletin, I debated whether I should go or not.  I didn’t want to go if it would take place at a hall that was hard to get to as in the previous year, especially where there was an admission charge.  One evening while I was at Bob’s, I had a hunch that I should call about the party.  When I heard that it was to be held in someone’s house in Renton and was to be a potluck without an admission charges, I decided to sign up and go since I liked the more personal touch of meeting in people’s homes.  It was a very good thing that I called and went, since that was to be a very important party.

On the evening of October 28, 1983 as I moved up to the front of the bus to see better where to get off in the dark, I noticed that there was a slim blonde man with a bag of potato chips in his arms getting ready to get off at the same bus stop.  I had a feeling that he was going to the same party.  So I asked him, “Are you going where I’m going?  I’ll lead the way.”  He said “yes” when I told him that it was with the Mountaineers.  Little did I know what this could really lead to?  I was dressed up as a bandanna girl with a bunch of bandannas tied on all over my fishnet style poncho that I had crocheted years earlier and a bandanna over my head.  I perceived him as prince charming, though he wore plain clothes.

At the party, with a plate full of food, I sat down with Kris so we could become more acquainted since having just met on the bus.  He had visual impairments due to complications from a childhood illness.  When he was six he had come down with mumps-meningitis, then a year later he developed swelling in his head as a rare complication and was diagnosed with mumps-encephalitis.  This resulted from the blockage of the vessels that drain excess fluid from the brain.  Throughout his childhood, he underwent a series of surgeries at the Children’s Orthopedic Hospital to have shunts (aqueductal stenosis shunt, a hard plastic tube) inserted to drain fluid from his brain, originally to his nose and later to his heart.  The technology was very new when he began having them in the early sixties and had only been in existence for five years.

Kris had been in and out of the hospital due to the fragile nature of the shunts that malfunctioned often throughout the years of steady and rapid growth.  Whenever that occurred he lost his ability to function properly and went into a coma.  There were times when it was critical and thought that he might die at anytime.  Luckily his mother was able to be with him all the time to watch when problems formed and to be able to take quick action.  Kris was tutored at home when he was too weak to attend school.

When Kris was thirteen, he entered a period of rapid adolescent growth when things were unstable with his shunts which lead to a coma that lasted several months.  He had nine brain surgeries during that period.  When he finally woke up he was blind.  Somehow, the strain from that many surgeries deadened the optic nerve.  Gradually during recovery he gained back some of his sight.  He had tunnel vision and numerous scatted blind spots in his visual field and was without depth perception.  He was classified as legally blind.  Suddenly when he woke up on the morning of January 7, 1982, when he was almost twenty-eight, he noticed that everything looked different.  Overnight he had gained back some of his vision and depth perception to about half way to what is considered normal.  He had had his last shunt replaced when he was seventeen, so it took all this time for recovery.

Kris graduated from high school a year later than most other his age since it took him longer to complete his studies due to illness.  He went to and received a Bachelor of Arts degree from the Evergreen State College (a non-traditional alternative college) in Olympia, Washington.  This suited him well since he would have much greater difficulty with the rigid examination protocol at a traditional school.  He needed plenty of time to rest since his endurance was low.  Student volunteers read all of his material to him as his eyes tired very easily since the eye muscle worked overtime to compensate for the areas in his visual field missed by the blind spots.

A year after graduation, he got a job with the federal government for the Social Security Administration at the Seattle Teleservice Center as a service representative, mostly working on the phones.  This type of work was ideal for him since he couldn’t do too much paper or visual work without his eyes becoming over strained.  Whenever he needed to look up or read something, an employee, assigned as a reader for him and others who are blind, read things out aloud until more sophisticated computers took over the reader’s job.

Shortly after Kris gained back some depth perception and increased physical endurance from taking vitamins that he needed, he began to go out to dances to meet people.  He joined the Mountaineers to take their folk dancing lessons and go on easy short hikes.  He had dated a few women before he met me.

After Kris and I talked to each other about our past and the challenges we endured, we were drawn to each other by the mutual understanding of having a disability and dealing with it even though our problems were very different.  It was love at the first sight from the mutual attraction that both of us felt that we were right for each other.  Kris was impressed with my college education and intelligence and, likewise, I was impressed with his.  He was also close to my age being only three and a half year older that I.

The next day after we met, Kris invited me to join him at his older brother’s house on Halloween night to hand out treats to the trick-or-treaters that came by while Eric and his wife took their two daughters (ages five and a half and the other almost three) out trick-or-treating.  Kris and I met Eric at the Applied Physic Laboratory at the University of Washington where he worked to ride with him to his place in Redmond on the Eastside.  His wife prepared dinner for all of us.  I enjoyed very much meeting the family while they had a chance to check me out and give Kris approval that made him feel good.  Eric drove both of us home.

The following week he began to take me out to restaurants for dinner one evening a week.  That first dinner out at downtown Seattle we had only complimentary cocktails, due to last minute cancellations of all dinner reservations to have space for a special function.  We walked a few blocks up the hill to Kris’ one-bedroom condominium, in the First Hill neighborhood.  Luckily Kris had things to prepare for dinner in his small kitchen with painted white cupboards.  That was the only time he cooked for me, not that he was a bad cook.

Kris had a loft style bedroom that was extra large and extended further out than that in most other units in the building.  He was able to fit in a full-sized bed, a chest of drawers, a long and narrow desk and a card table.  The bathroom was upstairs close to the stairs.  There was one huge window that covered the whole side and expanded to both stories.  The kitchen had open space between the sink and cupboards to look out into the living room.  Kris had a few musical instruments, organ, accordion, and harmonica that he played occasionally.

Following the first date in Kris’ place, when I went home after the visit, I would spend the night and sleep on his old sofa that flattened out into a bed to save time commuting.  The next morning I went straight to work.

For our weekly dates we generally ate out at restaurants where we could get discounts by 2-for-1 coupons from the newspaper or ten percent off by showing our bus pass.  We often chose Mexican food with the coupons.  To impress me early in our relationship, Kris took me out to a fancy Japanese restaurant and a movie afterwards that was an exception and we usually went to his condo after dinner out.

After we had been dating for several months, I made an offer to begin cooking dinner at Kris’ condo for us instead of eating out.  I realized that he took me out to eat to impress me, since generally boyfriends are expected to take their girlfriends out to dinner.  But, since neither of us drove and it took more time to take a bus to a restaurant, it would be much easier and less time consuming to cook and eat in.  Kris was elated with my suggestion, since it would be even easier for him.  Without going anywhere in the evening, he could rest his eyes more without having to navigate different places.  From then on I asked him what he would like ahead of time and fixed it during our date.

As our relationship progressed and we became closer to each other by spring of 1984, we began to see each other more often, a few nights a week and a few weekends a month.  We went out together on more Mountaineer activities.  I took him along to picnics and parties with my contacts from the autism society and the Jewish singles.  During the fall of 1984, we enrolled in Mountaineers folk dancing classes so I could learn new things and Kris wanted to take them again to brush up on what he had been taught and to get addition practice.

I got a chance to meet Kris’ parents after we knew each other for several weeks when I was invited to join him to go down to their house for Thanksgiving of 1983.  They lived on Harstine Island, an island in south Puget Sound.  A friend, who was an exchange student from Norway, at the University of Washington drove us there and back for the day.  It was about one hundred miles each way from Seattle.  Eric, Terry and their girls were there whom I met on Halloween night, so there was a full house that was nice.  We all ate at a big table in the big kitchen with an old wood-burning stove that was mostly used as a heater in the mornings and cooking breakfast.  The more modern electric range was used for cooking other meals.

The kitchen was extended from the original one of an old farmhouse that had been transformed into a two-bedroom house with two bathrooms.  Kris’ father had a construction business of aluminum siding and products before he retired and moved out to the island.  So he had extended and added rooms to the house.  The house was heated in the winter by wood in a big stove in the original living room.

The house was a brief walk through the woods to the beach along the Puget Sound.  There were ducks and chickens roaming around the house and a small duck pond.  There were grapevines for wine making and gardens of flowers, herbs, vegetables, and berries.  Kris’ folks also had a big dog (mostly German shepherd) and two cats.

Kris’ parents had kept themselves physically fit by working the land, walking on the beach, playing golf, and going ballroom dancing.  They kept mentally active by reading and playing bridge with friends.  His father, of Norwegian descent, with some Irish, loved to joke with people with his good sense of humor.  The mother, of English decent who was raised on a farm out in the country, was very well organized, which made her dependable and a great planner.  They were friendly and loving with strong family values.

 

Kris’ mother as she got to know me more after meeting me several times began to work with me on improving my appearance–gait, posture, and table manners.  She gave the constructive criticism that I needed never in a condescending manner but only from the concern of her caring heart.   She wanted me to feel better about myself as others become more accepting of me.  Due to autism, I wasn’t aware of what I did that was wrong.  I walked with my legs so far apart that I appeared to wobble.  I began to practice walking with one foot directly in front of the other as I had been shown by a social worker years earlier during my teens, but unfortunately put aside.  Whenever I was standing, I had a tendency to slump forward and stick my stomach out.  Sitting at a table or a chair, I slouched over my food or over my reading material.  I worked on standing and sitting straight, though it took me a long time to perfect it since old ingrained habits are a challenge to transform.

In addition to improving my appearance, I needed to work on how I greeted people.  One day in the spring of 1984 at work in my cafeteria, a friendly woman pointed out to me that whenever I greeted people I never used their names.  Due to autism, I was unaware that it is considered proper etiquette to include the names following hello.  It began to occur to me that whenever others greeted me, they addressed me by name.  Whenever I saw someone, I only said, “hi”, “good morning”, or “hello”.  From then on I had included names in my greetings.  It felt strange in the beginning until I got used to it.

To further my confidence, Kris, who was in the Toastmaster International (training in public speaking), got me to join in the summer of 1984.  I began after I completed my drafting class to avoid schedule conflicts.  Kris said that it had helped him overcome his shyness and thought that it could boost my ability to talk more fluently.  My speech sounded as though I was talking in a second language, rather than native, due to my stuttering.

During the summer, the Toastmasters meetings were informal: meeting one evening every other week at people’s homes when we had potlucks.  The rest of the year the meetings were more formal where we met at Mulligans, a nice bar and grill restaurant at University Village shopping center close to the University of Washington.

During each meeting three speeches (three to five minutes) were scheduled with evaluations following for feedback.  There was a short dinner break and impromptu questions on general topics and vocabulary, where guessing was encouraged, to practice responding to questions on the spur of the moment.  This was a good speaking exercise for me since I had great difficulty in responding to thought provoking things that I hadn’t dealt with much due to a time lag in auditory processing and in accessing knowledge I didn’t use very much.  We also had a contest each meeting to see who used the fewest non-verbal sounds–”umm”, “ohh”, or “okum” (interspersed in my talk).  I made a great deal of improvements after I joined due to greater awareness.

On my first presentation, the “ice breaker”, I was nervous since I wasn’t used to talking in front of a group of about twenty people.  Though the group was interested in listening to my life story on dealing with autism, they pointed out to me in the evaluations that my constant repetitious motion of swaying back and forth was very distracting.  I wasn’t aware at all that I tended to do it whenever standing in place for a while.  While I was working in the cafeteria a few co-workers asked me about my swaying.  From then on, I worked on eliminating swaying during my subsequent speeches and at work, though it took me awhile since old habits aren’t easy to extinguish.

In some of my speeches, I didn’t use good judgment of how to make my topics more interesting but yet clear and easy to understand.  I had a tendency to go too much in depth and get too technical in things that I had strong interests in such as biology and nutrition.  I threw in excessive jargon and terms.  Those with a more limited knowledge of the subject weren’t able to keep all the things straight due to information overload.  It is common for those with autism to delve excessively in a topic that is interesting to them, due to lack of regard of how others would respond.  After I received my evaluations, I learned to tone down on jargon and use more in general terms, but yet keep it interesting.  I did develop a very good sense of what to include in my talks and the timing of things.

 

In June of 1984 when I visited a neighbor who was a single parent with a four-your-old son living in a basement apartment in the same rooming house, I became gullible as she talked about gas leaks in the building and its effects on health.  I mentioned to her that on some days I felt lower in energy than other day.  I had known that exposure to gas could cause flue-like symptoms.  My tiredness could have been from any of the numerous factors–emotional states or certain foods or less stimulation.  I became so concern about gas leaks that I started to look for places to move to.

From work one afternoon, the same woman who taught me to greet others properly took me to her place in Bellevue to show me two rooms available for rent.  She wanted to move out.  Though the house and the area were nice, the rent was too high.

One Saturday, I had a negative experience of looking at a room in someone’s house in Northeast Seattle.  When I met the woman who had a room for rent she had a chilly reception for me.  She made an excuse that I was too young and that she wanted someone who was older.  Apparently she was turned off by something about me.  I was taken aback that she wouldn’t even give me a chance.  I took this as a put-down of my character.

After I saw a few places in the University District, I found a medium-sized furnished room in the basement of a very old rooming house.  It was very close to the University and in a nice neighborhood where sororities were concentrated.  The rent was very low, but yet it was nicer than some of the more run-down places with higher rents.

The charming old-fashioned kitchen with a lot of natural light streaming in, that I would share with all of the tenants in the house was one of the selling points.  The bathroom in the basement, that I shared with one man, who also had a room in the basement, was run-down with holes in the wall and pipes sticking out.  That didn’t matter much as I hardly spent anytime in there.  The main drawback to my room was that it was difficult to heat in the winter since heat goes up to the upper stories.

Even though I realized later that my neighbor from Wallingford, who scared me into moving out, was paranoid and tended to exaggerated and worry about things that weren’t so, it was just as well that I moved into a much cheaper place to save on rent.  I needed to save more money.  By the time I moved in July of 1984, I was getting closer to Kris and spending more and more time with him and seeing him almost everyday.

One aspect I liked about the move was that I was only a mile away from the Ravenna Puget Consumers Co-op store.  That made it more convenient to shop there while I got my walking in.

Shortly after my twenty-seventh birthday on July 24, 1984, Kris and I became engaged.  He had Martha pick up the gold and diamond ring from a dealer.  She had a store in Downtown Seattle selling antiques and was experienced and knowledgeable in old and used jewelry.  When we visited her and Dani, she presented the ring in an Oriental style satin purse and a small carved wooden jewelry box as a birthday gift.  Kris and I felt that the time was right, that we had known each other for nine months and were sure of each other.  We planned to get married in early spring when it would be easy for both of us to take time off of work to fly to my folks.

The timing was very good for our engagement since my mother had planned a family reunion a few weeks later in middle of August and would be a good time to introduce Kris to my family other then Bob whom he had already met.  I was very lucky to get that week off since it was generally hard to take time off during summer with high demands for vacations.  I didn’t know the dates until after the vacation requests were due and weeks were filled up on the colander.  Kris didn’t have any problems in taking the week off.

My mother and stepfather had moved into a large townhouse with three bedrooms and a family room in the lower level in Rockville, Maryland.  About thirty people on her mother’s side of the family, the Chasans, came from all over the country, including those whom I knew well from our New York days.  We were lucky with the beautiful weather, sunny and not too hot or humid.  It was good for Kris to meet his in-laws-to-be before our wedding and for my mother and other relatives to meet him to be more familiar with one another by the big day.

After living on my own for over two years I finally was able to obtain steady employment through making the right contact at the right time and when the economy began to improve gradually.  This provided a boost in my confidence that I would be able to support myself.  As I interacted with many kinds of people day to day at work, I experienced a growth in social skills that enabled me to form intimate relationships with a close friend and even a steady boyfriend.  My feet were in solid ground with secure employment and a good boyfriend.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.”—Ephesians 2:8-9

One spring day in 1983 several women including I volunteered to help set up for a big banquet which was to be held at the main cafeteria located in the center of Boeing premises.  I was assigned to help an employee from that facility to prepare lettuce.  As we worked and talked, Dani praised me for my work and gave me encouragement.  Though many of my co-workers were friendly, I didn’t feel the special connection with them as I did for Dani as we were drawn together.  She seemed very poetic and spiritual.  I began to have a vision of us becoming good friends.

Shortly after the banquet, Dani got transferred to my cafeteria was helpful for developing our friendship.  She worked by the three-compartment sink that was in the middle of the production center and was in charge of washing lettuce and other produce and helping another woman prepare vegetables for the salad bar.  By having contact with Dani regularly, we had a good opportunity of getting to know each other and become close friends.

I was more determined than ever to keep the friendship strong rather than let it peter out as I had in the past.  Part of the reason why Dani felt comfortable with me was probably that she had a challenge herself and her small granddaughter had a disability.  Dani had glaucoma in her one of her eyes that was big and obvious.  A large opaque area covered all of her one lens.  She had also experienced other hardships, such as losing her husband at a young age when their only child a son was only two years old.  She was forty when I met her.

The grandchild, who was a year and a half, was deaf though she was able to hear a tiny bit in one ear.  Her other ear was severely underdeveloped without any function due to cleft pallet.  Her face was so severely disfigured at birth that she had had surgery to improve her looks.  Her facial features still weren’t even, the upper lip higher on one side with scars, and her nose twisted to the side.  Despite all that, she was a beautiful girl.

Dani had a two-bedroom house with a one-car garage all on one level where her mother and dog lived with her.  Martha was very kind and liked me.  She was happy that Dani chose me as a good friend.  She had a small black dog that was very friendly and cute.  I began to come over their place to sleep over and to go to church with them during the summer.  On a Saturday afternoon, I went by bus to south Renton up a hill and walked a few blocks to where they lived.  I often stayed until Monday morning so I could go straight to work from there.  I came over more frequently (several times a month) during the fall and winter.  The first thing I did after saying hello was to go out for a long walk to explore their Cascade Vista neighborhood for several hours and then back by dinner time.

Dani and Martha were devout Christians who were very active in their church that was in north Kent, just south of Renton.  Whenever I visited, I went with them to church plus going to other church activities such as summer picnics and a monthly care group meeting at people’s homes for prayer and fellowship.  I was interested in learning about various religions and denominations to gain a greater perspective of where people were coming from culturally.  Some of the church members were very friendly and gave me gifts and invited me to their houses.  On Sunday afternoons after the morning church service, Dani and Martha had an open house with dinner for the congregation.

I always had some spiritual leanings as far back as I could remember.  I felt on several occasions when I was in troubling or dangerous situations that I sensed divine intervention to protect me and lead me into safety.  Whenever things were going rough, I always felt at least a glimmer of hope that things could improve.  I also sensed that even though people were not treated as equals, that some how we are created as equals.  We each have our own challenges, triumphs, and gifts and need hope, faith, love, and peace.  I was drawn to the spiritual nourishment from church.  I became very interested in growing in my faith and encourage others as they encourage me.

By getting together frequently with Dani and her friends at church, I was provided with good opportunities to sharpen my social skills that helped boost my confidence in mingling with other people.  Besides was feed spiritually by the church with emphasis on love and forgiveness for all including myself.  I became more spontaneous in conversations.  I tended to talk when something had triggered a remembrance, but it wasn’t easy for me on my own to come up with a topic that others might find interesting.  Though I made some gradual improvement, I still had a long way to go to be in the flow and rhythm of conversations.  I was on the road of forming intimate relationships, close friendships and to have boyfriends.

 

During the spring of 1983 when I worked for several months in food service, I began to think of ideas of careers in some technical fields–computers, electronics, or drafting.  I thought that if I got training in any of these areas at a community college, I might increase my chances of being hired by large company such as Boeing.  I could utilize my skills, creativity, and fine motor control for greater career advancement and to earn more money so I could eventually save enough for a down payment for a house.  Perhaps some day I would be able to transfer to a university for a second degree with even greater opportunities.  I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a dead-end job all my life.  I knew that I could do something that used my mind more.

I looked into programs that were offered at the North Seattle Community College, only three miles from my place.  I had caught the bus up the block from me that went to the school.  I wouldn’t need to quit my job, since I could take an evening class easily with the bus running frequently all through the evening.  I chose electronic drafting because I felt that I would do well in it with my superior drawing ability and that the field had practical applications in big companies that design systems.  Besides it had one of the shortest waiting lists to enroll–a few months compared to as long as two years for electronics engineering technology.

During the school year 1983/84 when I was twenty-six from the fall quarter through spring, I went to introductory electronics drafting class two evenings a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I enjoyed learning all of the procedures of drafting.  As I had during my college days, I wanted to try out different things here and there to explore new areas of interests that might lead to new avocations.  I didn’t think that I would ever make enough to support myself with my major skill and favorite activity, visual art.  So I contemplated and explored other areas that I thought would be practical.

By my third quarter of the first year of drafting, my interest wasn’t high enough to pursue it further.  I didn’t mind the activity, but was not very enthused with it.  Though drafting like drawing a picture involve putting lines and things on paper, it didn’t use my creativity very much and it was much more exacting.  I felt that I was just following directions to produce blueprints according to the exact specifications.  But, overall it was a good learning experience for me.  I didn’t enroll in more classes since I didn’t know what area to get training in.  Besides I was contented to stay in food service.

 

During the summers while I worked in Renton, following my shift, I went swimming in Lake Washington at the Gene Coulon Park.  It was about a half mile away from my cafeteria so it was an easy walk for me.  Throughout the season there were several lifeguards seated atop the high benches watching the swimmers.  Whenever it was hot and sunny, especially when school was out for the summer, there would be so many people that I barely had enough room in the swimming area by the docks to swim laps.  But, it was a lot of fun watching young ones enjoy playing in the water.  I usually went to the lake several times a week.  I changed into my swimsuit at work before I left to free up the women’s bathroom at the park.  After I swam for over an hour at a time, I walked a little bit and changed back into my clothes before I took a bus back to Seattle.

Other times of the year, I swam in the Olympic-sized pool at the Stroum Jewish Community Center in Mercer Island, a small island in Lake Washington between Seattle and Bellevue.  I had attended several festivals there that were advertised in the newspaper.  When I read about the activities, including classes, after-school programs, and support groups, I went to the Jewish Singles meetings which planned about two get-togethers a month and gave free admission to the community pool on Wednesday evenings with membership.

I joined in the spring of 1983 after the community celebration that centered around the Jewish holiday, Purim, since the annual dues was only five dollars and it seemed like such a good deal considering that many places charged a few dollars for just one swim.  A few evenings a month, if I had enough energy left by the end of the day, I went by bus and got off at an exit of the highway and walked several blocks to the center.

Besides the use of the pool that was my primary reason for joining, I participated in a few gatherings with the singles group, especially when we met at people’s homes, to go to swimming/Jacuzzi parties, and when a hike was planned.  There were other activities where people met at restaurants, theaters, and bowling alleys.  I didn’t care so much to go to these places that were less personal and cost money that I didn’t have much of.  I did go to meet them at a restaurant in Tukwila for a happy hour where complimentary hor d’oerves was served.  I didn’t realize that I was expected to order drinks to more than make up the cost of the food.  But I avoided anything alcoholic and I didn’t see the non-alcoholic options.

 

After I settled down in Wallingford, I became even more involved with the Mountaineers.  From the winter of 1983 through fall, I went on at least one hike every weekend, including when I was sick with a bad sore throat and cough.  I was determined to explore as much as possible to see as much as there was to see in case I moved out of state.  I had thoughts of moving back to my folks in Maryland a few years later.

When it got warmer, I went on weekend camping trips with hiking both days, car camps and backpacking about five weeks in a row and for the three-day weekend holidays when I could get more hiking.  During the evenings we gathered wood near the campground for a campfire except when prohibited or when we stayed in cabins.  The fire was especially nice when it got too dark to do anything else other than socializing which I was weak in.  Watching the flowing forms of the fire was very meditative.  I enjoyed listening to others talk.

For my brown-bag meals I packed salad vegetables with beans and rice for the first day and crackers and cashews for the subsequent days, both lunch and supper.  For breakfast I brought melons or dried fruit that packed well and didn’t require preparation prior to mealtime.  Unlike most campers, I didn’t want to bother packing and using a camp stove.  I didn’t need anything heated.  It was a lot easier to bring all ready-to-eat foods.

My mind tended to fixate so much on food that during meal times, my eyes focused on the food that other people brought.  Due to autism, I didn’t understand that this was a form of imposing on others.  They very likely thought that I was very hungry and didn’t have enough to eat.  Some of them felt sorry for me and offered me some of their snacks and even part of the main meal including sandwiches or entrees.  It didn’t occur to me why they were so generous other than when they passed something around to everyone.  I just enjoyed the handouts, sampling different foods for my insatiable appetite that was even greater than usual from a great deal of physical exertion of day hikes.

Often following a hike, we stopped in a restaurant near the trailhead on our way home for additional fellowship.  While others had their orders of snacks or desserts, I just had water and sat with them since I didn’t have money for anything on the menu.  Sometimes someone shared side dishes with me.  Once, several mountaineers on an extended weekend trip even treated me to a meal at a fast-food establishment since they probably figured that I was too poor to purchase a meal out.  I didn’t realize that it would have been better if I ordered at least a little bit of something as to avoid becoming a subject of pity.  Though I always allowed money for reimbursing the driver for gas, I should have set some aside for eating out to become better company with others.  When we ate at restaurants for all of the main meals, I brought in my own food and ate it when everyone else had his or her orders.  As part of autism, I didn’t realize that it was considered very rude to bring in food from the outside.

By the middle of the summer, following months of hiking regularly, especially after all that weekend trips, I and others who knew me noticed that I had lost weight, about fifteen to twenty pounds.  It was from burning a greater amount of calories and speeding up my metabolism with a lot of exercise from the frequent hikes which averaged about ten miles with an elevation gain of two-thousand feet a day on the weekends.  Though I had kept up with my physical fitness regimen with jogging and walking for years, it didn’t add up to the energy expanded by the weekly hikes.  When it got wetter and cooler and I signed up for fewer outings to the mountains I gained back all of my weight.

 

After a few years of not dating anyone, I went on a date in the spring of 1983 with a young man whom I met in the food service at Renton.  Russ (not his real name) helped out doing the dishes with a few other men.  He was about two years younger than I and had some mild autistic characteristics, pedantic speech and less developed communicative and social skills.  He was slim with a moderate build, blond hair and blue eyes.  He participated in the Special Olympics that enable those with disabilities to practice and compete in various athletic events.  He was friendly and invited me to his place for dinner after work.

Russ, like me, didn’t have a car so we went by bus to his house in Renton.  He lived with his parents and younger brothers, two of whom also had disabilities and were in the Special Olympics.  The house was up the hill in the same neighborhood as Dani and Martha.  Russ’ mother didn’t appear to cook as the kitchen was full of junk food and I was served a frozen dinner.  Even though this date wasn’t nearly as romantic as being taken out to a nice fine-dining restaurant where the food would be much better, I enjoyed going to his house to see where he lived, and best of all, to meet his family.  I left early in the evening so I would get home by bus before dark.  On another afternoon, I bumped into Russ and on the spur of the moment he took me out for dinner at Wendy’s in the Renton Center.  I had the salad bar.

Though Russ was a nice man, I felt that we didn’t have enough common interests to sustain our relationship.  We stopped dating after the second date though I enjoyed getting to know him and we remained on friendly terms at work.

Through my mid twenties I began to accept that I wasn’t cut out to eventually marry.  I had such a low image of myself that I felt that the only men that I would ever attract were those who were down and out either due to internal or external circumstances or both.  I lacked confidence in attracting a man of high caliber who succeeded in life or had high potential, like some who went on Mountaineer trips with me.  My deficits in appearance, social skills, and self confidence which were painfully obvious made it challenging for a man I would be interested in to take me as his girl friend.

As a coping mechanism, I rationalized that I was too intelligent and creative to get involved with anyone as I needed more time for my art.  Unfortunately, this is a form of copping out or running a way from the problem rather than facing it head on for a more effective solution.

After I went on several Mountaineer camping trips during the summer of 1983 where I observed how couples relate to one another, I began to develop a longing to find someone who would be right for me.  I had always enjoyed being touched or massaged, and I loved the idea of snuggling with someone close.  I envied the spontaneous effortlessness as the couples talked.  I began to realize how lonely I was at home even with attending activities and visiting friends and family.  My friendship with Dani and spending time at her place, with a greater opportunity to develop social skills, propelled me into believing that perhaps it is possible for me to have a boy friend.

My longing to find a man who was right for me got much stronger when I attended the wedding, in August of 1983, of my friend Laura who I had met at the Washington Protection and Advocacy System.  Laura met her husband at the monthly statewide advocacy meetings.  Mark lived and worked in Port Angeles, on the north coast of the Olympic Peninsula, doing advocacy.  The wedding was held in their house located in the country outside of Port Angeles.  Even though there were a lot of people, there was room for me to sleep over two nights on the floor in my sleeping bag so that I could spend a full day on the wedding day and to make the weekend out of it.  I went by Greyhound Bus on Friday evening and got a ride home on Sunday.  The wedding and barbecue meals were held outdoors in the backyard with beautiful weather.

When I sensed how the newlyweds loved each other and had a lovely contemporary style home with skylights and wood beams, I became envious and wanted the same for myself.  After attending Laura’s wedding, I began to affirm that I should find someone to marry some day.  I realized that I shouldn’t give up hope of attracting a man who would be right for me.

I was hopeful in the autumn of 1983, when my male pen pal with autism drove all the way from the Midwest to Seattle to meet me.  I heard about Dan (not his real name) through my pen pal Jean L. whom I had met at the autism conference at Boston two years earlier.  I was informed that he had a Bachelor of Science degree in mathematics and that he was interested in finding a woman to marry.  We corresponded a few times before he wanted to see me.  I wasn’t too concerned that he was fifteen years older than I.  I felt that it would be more important that there would be a mutual understanding between us with our respective backgrounds with autism.  He found my work number and called me at work one day to hear my voice before he drove west, so that he could get a better impression of me.

Though Dan didn’t have a job then, he was able to afford to stay at a motel north of Seattle and take me out to restaurants for several days.  He lived with his parents who were apparently well to do with the father being a lawyer.  Since our diets were very different–his meat and potatoes and mine vegetarian, the all-you-can-eat buffet places such as the King’s Table worked out the best.

Both Dan and I enjoyed going on drives to see the scenery so he drove us to parks on scenic routes through the farm lands and wooded areas on the way to meetings and friends’ houses.  This gave me opportunities to explore areas that were normally inaccessible without a car.  Due to autism, Dan lacked a sense to wait his turn to speak and often interrupted a group discussion, a similar problem to mine.  In addition, when invited with me to people’s homes for dinner he didn’t touch any food he was unfamiliar with.

As common in autism, Dan had great difficulty in controlling his emotions.  For example, at a Mountaineers party where I spoke to several people including other men, Dan got jealous and felt that I had deserted him.  Apparently this reflected feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem.  As someone alerted me that Dan was very upset and was going to leave without me, I ran over to him to comfort and assure him that I didn’t mean to abandon him and cared for him.  He calmed down enough to take me home.

Though Dan was able to be nice and loving at times, I felt that he wasn’t a right mate for me.  His libido was too strong for me.  As much as every five to ten minutes, he kissed me with tongue touching.  Bob and Jean, who had invited him with me to dinner one evening, agreed with me and were relieved that I broke off with him.  Though I had always enjoyed affection and being touched, I felt that Dan over did it.  I didn’t like that he was also too physical and controlling.  For example, he blocked my access to extra food left on our table in a restaurant whenever we went out, though it probably was better for me to refrain from eating more food than I needed.

I was very nervous about making a decision about continuing or discontinuing our relationship.  On the one hand, if I continued to see him I wouldn’t be as lonely and he would be willing to move near me.  On the other hand, if we broke up I would have greater opportunities to find someone more compatible.  I had so much anxiety as to cause diarrhea.

What hastened my decision to break up with Dan was that he wanted way too much commitment at once.  He wanted to find an apartment for us to live together so we could see each other everyday.  There was no way that I would move in with a man that I just meet, especially without marriage.  Though I had always considered myself to be open minded and liked to try new ideas, I had always had old-fashion views of marriage and sex–no living together or sex before marriage.  I needed the freedom to go out as I pleased and be available to date other men.

Shortly after Dan left he called me to tell me that he was so heartbroken that he got thrown out of his motel from screaming and disturbing the peace.  He was suicidal since he had become very depressed from the break up of our relationship.  He went back to living with his parents in the Midwest and called me a few months later to let me know that he was hanging on in his life.  Even though he wasn’t right for me, I wished him the best.

 

PLANTING MY FEET ON SOLID GROUND

 

What Am I Worth?

Am I worth of who my parents are?

Am I worth of where I came from?

Am I worth of what my challenges are?

Am I worth of what my talents are?

Am I worth of how well I interact with others?

Am I worth of what my job title is?

Am I worth of how much money I make?

Am I worth of where I live?

NO!, my worth is not be judged by the things I HAVE.

But, only by what I AM.

It is WHAT I do with what I have,

That gives me WORTH as a human being of what I am.

As I became more settled down with a more permanent place to live and a steady job, I began to focus more on developing intimate relationships with friends and boyfriends.  As I had lived on my own for a few years and had come in contact with others and deal with them I learned lot about people.  I become more interested in them as to develop good friendships.

 

When I arrived back to the Puget Sound area in January of 1983, Bob and I looked in the newspaper classified ads for rooms for rent that I could move into.  My interest had shifted from cooperative housing to rooming houses where each renter is provided with a room with shared bathroom and kitchen use (shared or private), but without the common living areas that are included in cooperative households.  I figured that it would be easier for me to get into a rooming house or a cheaper studio apartment than it would into places that are more community based where there would be the greater concern of total strangers accepting me and giving me a chance.  By living more on my own, there wouldn’t be any worry of being expected to conform with a group, especially with shared meals where sticking to my diet would be more challenging, and about people who lack understanding of my background and who weren’t always nice about accepting me.

Bob drove me around to several places in the evenings and weekends in Seattle.  We viewed two mother-in-law basement studio apartments.  One was too dark and dismal looking and the other one was very nice with sliding doors to the back yard but too expensive.  We saw one studio in the basement of a regular apartment building in Ballard.  Though the apartment was nice by itself, the view was poor looking out into the parking lot and another building across the way without any vegetation to be seen.  I never demanded spectacular views–water and mountains–and I had always been contented with more commonplace scenery as long as I could see some form of plant life growing.

Finally, the fourth place we saw was in a rooming house that met all of the criteria I was looking for.  The room, that I signed a lease on, had a lot of natural light beaming through, a good view of the residential street with houses and shrubbery and the rent was reasonable with the utilities included.  There were windows facing north and east.  The room was fully furnished so I didn’t need to buy any furniture.  There was a full-size bed and Bob gave me sheets for it.  I used my cheap sleeping bag as a quilt.

Whenever I was home I kept myself busy drawing or reading.  I read as I sat on the old brown vinyl reclining chair that came with the room.  Most of the time I had my stereo on to a soft rock station, which I had placed on my navy blue footlocker by the north window.  My taste in music got more mature and I got away from hard rock, including heavy metal that I had listened to previously.  I didn’t have a television because I wasn’t interested enough to watch anything that would justify the cost of buying one.  Though I had a second thought of getting one just in case there is a special that I wanted to see and looked in the newspaper ads, I decided that I didn’t needed it since there had been plenty of things for me to do without one.  I had Bob and Jean store my drawing table since there wasn’t enough space.  I used the table that was in the kitchenette corner for both drawing and eating.

The kitchenette was equipped with all of the basics–a small refrigerator with a tiny freezer inside the main compartment, a small stove/oven range, a sink, and wood cupboards.  Bob and Jean gave me their old dish rack since I needed one and washed the dishes by hand.  When I visited my folks in Maryland and Pennsylvania, they gave me the kitchen basics that I had somehow managed without: mugs, a pot with lid, knives, and a complete silverware setting.

I shared the bathroom with three other women.  The old-fashioned bathroom, which was large, had a big textured window and an old bathtub with an added on shower hookup.  I was on the second floor that was accessible by stairs from the main hallway of the old charming house.

There were laundry facilities in the basement that was convenient for me rather than hauling my things to the Laundromat.  Although when there was a break down that lasted for a long time, I still avoided the commercial places.  Whenever I went to see Bob and Jean, especially since I went every week anyway, I brought my laundry with me and used their machines.  That saved me the inconvenience of going to the Laundromat and having to spend time there, besides saving money.

I was centrally located in the Wallingford neighborhood in Seattle that is close to the University of Washington and Lake Union and other attractions.  It was too bad that my friend Laura who had lived previously only blocks away had moved away to the Olympic Peninsula.  It would have been nice to stop by to see her on my walks.  I jogged all over the area including the popular parks nearby, such as Gas Works and Green Lake.  Gas Works that is on Lake Union contains remnants from an old gas production company.  Green Lake, which was a mile from me, has trails for bikes and pedestrians that go over three miles all around the manmade lake.

The bus service was very good in my area with a choice of three buses to downtown.  I was also able to go to other places just as easily with a straight shot–to all sorts of community events at the Seattle Center which was the site of the 1962 World’s Fair, and to the shopping malls in the north end.  This added greater flexibility in going places on my own.  This was especially useful whenever I needed to meet my driver early in the morning to be picked up for Mountaineer hikes.

 

To stretch my food dollar and food stamps I discovered the food bank and went there; while I was house sitting to pick up my monthly allotment of the government commodities and food donations by businesses and individuals. Luckily a woman was able to drive me home since it would have been too much of a load for me to carry on the bus.  Whatever things I didn’t use, such as meats and butter, I passed onto Bob.  Since I liked cheese occasionally and it was good to use for potluck dishes, I kept that even though I wasn’t supposed to have dairy products.  Even though I didn’t care very much for canned goods, they were good additions to my cooking and baking.

When I first moved to Wallingford, instead of going to a church building to pick up things from the food bank, an elderly man volunteered to pick up my allotments and delivered them in his station wagon to me once a week until I got a job.  That saved me from hauling everything on the bus.

Shortly after I arrived back to the Northwest from the east coast in January while I was staying at Bob and Jean’s before I moved into my place, Bob and Jean had a party with several people.  This turned out to be an important gathering I was in.  This was when I made a contact with a man with connections who gave me a job lead.  As I talked to him, I mentioned to him that I had been unemployed and that I was capable of doing many kinds of jobs and that I would be willing to learn new things.  George was the district general manager of ARA (Automated Retail Association) Services, Inc.; Puget Sound district had contracted with businesses to provide food and laundry services.  He was confident that he would be able to get me a job in food service at Boeing that had contracted with ARA Services.

I went to the district administrative offices, located in Tukwila, to fill out the employment application and indicated that I would be flexible as I felt that this would put me at an advantage.  There was an opening for a part-time general cafeteria position at the Boeing Seattle Plant II.  The Targeted Tax Credit Program that was set up to encourage and provide a reduction in taxes for employers to hire individuals with challenges and give them chances of which my employer was eligible upon hiring me.  I was hired and waited for my badge and nametag that was required for entry into Boeing property, to be made in order to start.  On a Friday morning about two weeks later, I was informed that my badge and nametag was done and I was to start my new job the following Monday.

On February 21, 1983, I began my food services job part-time.  I went by bus with a transfer in Downtown Seattle going through the industrial area in south Seattle.  My cafeteria was on the major street.  There was a pedestrian underpass since the arterial was very busy with many pedestrians.  In the mornings five days a week from Monday through Friday I usually arrived early so I would have enough time to have breakfast at the cafeteria before my five-hour shift began at nine.  I had a half-hour lunch break so I was done at two thirty.

Each employee was provided with a polyester smock, plaid with navy blue and orange lines on white, to be worn with navy blue pants and a sturdy pair of shoes with good support.  The supervisors were provided with white smocks to be worn with their navy blue pants.  I thought my smock was ugly with the fabric of manmade material and colors that were too clashed for my taste, though I didn’t mind wearing it during my shift as long as I had my shirt on underneath.

I was placed behind the scenes in the production center that was located in the main cafeteria.  Boeing Plant II had a bunch of food plazas scattered throughout the Seattle facility, in which food was prepared and packaged a day before and shipped from the production center.  Before service hours, the breakfast foods, grilled sandwiches, entrees, and TV dinners were heated and put out on display.  This system provided express service and saved Boeing workers time from having to go to a full service cafeteria and waiting to be served.  This way, people had an option to stay in the building and grab something quick to eat.

I was assigned to basic tasks that were included in my job classification of general cafeteria worker; putting food into containers, wrapping, and placing labels on them.  Each day there was a printout of the number of servings of each item to prepare.  Food was dished up after it had cooled into the containers that were counted out according to the figure on the production sheet.  After I filled each container and wrapped it, I placed it on a rack tray.  When each rack was full, I put it in a tall cart on wheels.  When I was done I wheeled it into a large walk-in cooler that was the size of a huge room.

During my first two weeks while most of the other workers were sent out to various locations to serve the customers directly or do cashiering, I remained on the floor finishing working on production.  My poor posture, crude gait, and my speech impediment apparently made people feel uncomfortable in placing me in direct contact with the patrons.  I didn’t mind since I was content in doing solitary work that allowed me to daydream.

After I was there for a few weeks, I was sent out to the dish room to help two other people when it was busy during lunchtime.  I mostly helped by getting the dishes and trays off the conveyor belt and put them in the commercial dishwasher.  The silverware was placed in special racks for soaking in water.  When the rack was full I placed it into the machine.  I liked the change of pace of working in more than one place during my shift.  After I worked in that section for a month, I was sent back to remain in the production area since they felt that they could manage okay without my assistance in the dish room.  I was a little bit disappointed, but I quickly adjusted to the change back to my original schedule.

For my shift I was entitled to two meals a day–breakfast and lunch, for free, though the taxes for these meals were deducted from my paychecks.  The value of them was considered income to be taxed along with regular income since I would need to purchase less food.  During lunch, especially the first week, I took so much food that I couldn’t finish it during my half-hour break.  With the availability of all that free food, I went crazy and took as much as I could carry on the tray.  I wanted to eat as much as possible so I wouldn’t need to buy as much for supper.  Whatever food was left I brought with me into the dish room or the production area.  When my shift was done I ate whatever I had left, even when I was already full from a huge meal.  We weren’t allowed to take any food out of the cafeteria, even things that would be thrown away.  By the end of my first week I learned to scale back on my meal to take what I could finish during my break.  I had had digestive problems from eating too much.

Generally the people, who worked with me, were very friendly.  They were mostly young women in the twenties like me, though there was a wide range of ages–from the late teens through the seventies.  They respected and accepted me for whom I was.  We talked to each other that were very good for my social development.  Though my supervisor spoke less to me after she knew me more, she was still friendly.  On the first day when she showed me what to do and worked with me, she talked non-stop and so much that I had difficulty in keeping up with what she said.  She probably sensed that I felt uncomfortable listening so much.  I wasn’t as attentive as I should have been due to my sensory overload.  Also my efficiency was reduced whenever I concentrated on listening to others, even though I could do more than one thing at a time, but just not as well in anything.  Though many others had no problems in working and talking simultaneously.

The food service establishment environment, with many different people around, was very good for developing my social skills.  I was provided with many opportunities to interact with others, especially during breaks and when I started and finished my shift.  I was no longer socially isolated as during my days when I was unemployed.  As I worked with a greater exposure to social situations, I became more comfortable interacting with others.  My attention span gradually increased, though I still had long ways to go.  Though some of the improvement could have been attributed to my diet with fewer animal foods and more wholesome vegetarian foods.

The cafeteria was a union shop so I was required to join a labor union within thirty days of employment.  Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees (HERE), an affiliate of AFL-CIO federal conglomerate of unions, were involved with the three-year-contract negotiations.  Each contract included hourly rates structure, according to job classification and years of service, paid holidays and vacations, and some coverage of insurance in health and dental care with a contract with an insurance provider.  I liked the idea of union representation so that our voice could be heard more for better wages and benefits.

 

Just before I was hired, I received a letter from public assistance that my request for assistance was denied.  It stated that I wasn’t disabled enough and that I was capable of working.  That was okay since I was about to earn enough money though small to cover my basic expenses.

It helped a lot to keep my expenses very low without having a car or children.  Even with the availability of street parking by me, I didn’t feel a need for a car since I had been managing very well without one and was satisfied.  I was content to be without the worry of the expenses and maintenance of owning and driving a car.  Since out of economic necessity I didn’t have a choice, I was happy with what I did have and not concerned with what I didn’t have or need. 

I kept my food bill very low buying all unprocessed vegetarian foods besides having ten meals a week in my cafeteria.  Having food stamps left to carry me over into a few months of my job helped.  I had been taking advantage of the monthly specials at the Puget Consumers Co-op mostly for the bulk food items (grains and beans) and fresh produce.  I avoided ordering food at restaurants.  I also didn’t spend any money for entertainment, especially since there were a lot of free things to go to in Seattle.  With my thriftiness and despite my low earnings, I managed to save a little bit from each paycheck, even from part-time hours.

 

During the end of my eighth week at the Boeing Plant II cafeteria in April of 1983, I was informed that I no longer had a position there and a transfer was placed for me to the Boeing Renton Plant effective the following Monday.  While I worked in Seattle, a young female employee was out on maternity leave and came back to work shortly before I left.  I had noticed that when we had more people on the floor there was less work to go around.  It made sense that they couldn’t keep me there anymore.  Just when I was getting to know my coworkers it was time for me to leave.  I was nervous about my transfer with a longer commute or change of hours, though I felt lucky that there was an opening at Renton that made the transfer possible to avoid laying me off.

Actually, the commute to Renton, on the southern tip of Lake Washington about fifteen miles south of Seattle, wasn’t that bad with still two buses each way.  It only took about fifteen minutes longer each way to get there than to Plant II.  In a way I enjoyed the trip to Renton more since I went through more of the residential areas rather than industrial ones.  Though I warmed up to a more scenic commute there were some adjustments that I needed to make.

The main thing that I was disappointed in when I first began at the Renton plant, was that I would make less money due to a reduction in my hours–from five hours a day down to four.  Though my hourly rate was about to be increased after the probation period of sixty days.  Just when I got used to making a certain amount of money, it was a downer to start making less, especially without any advance warning.  Considering my background with autism and without any prior notice of the change, I didn’t do too badly emotionally.

I still was able to manage with less income, mostly by saving less.  I even was able to begin to have a small amount deducted from my paycheck every week for United States Savings Bond when Boeings had an annual spring US Savings Bond drive.  I quickly adjusted and began to enjoy having more free time as money isn’t everything or a guarantee to happiness.

At Renton, as in Plant II, I was placed in the production center in the second largest cafeteria.  It was back from the main road at the north section of the facility.  I did basically the same things as I did at the other place–placing food in containers, wrapping, and labeling.  I was also introduced to other tasks–making labels, using the sealer for sandwiches and desserts, and packing things to be sent out.  While most people were sent out to provide direct service, I remained with my supervisor, who was an older white haired woman in her sixties, in production.  With the challenge of the way I held myself, management, as in the other plant, didn’t feel comfortable in sending me out where I would be in front of customers.

My hours started out to be nine ‘o clock in the morning to one in the afternoon with only a ten minute break for lunch.  During such breaks I had just enough time to grab everything onto a heaping plate and take a few bites of it.  I saved most of my meal for after my shift and put it in the cooler.  I didn’t mind having everything cold.  Most of the other employees who worked four or five hours a day just had something quick to eat that they could finish within ten minutes and get back to work in time.  Most people ate faster than I could.

After a week of the grab-now-and-eat-later regimen, my supervisor who noticed what I had been doing informed me that it would be okay to have a half hour lunch, but I was required to end my shift a half hour later.  Before, I liked the idea of eating later so I would have more time to build up my hunger so I could eat more.  With the revised plan I was able to eat with others rather than alone.  This enabled me to visit with others more that overall was more enjoyable than eating later alone.

Though people were generally nice to me, I felt that I received a rather chilly reception from my supervisor the first week.  This reflected my low self-esteem.  But, Dorothy, after she got to know me more soon began to feel more comfortable with me and opened up and was able to joke with me.  Though she was able to have fun and laugh with people, she had a serious side.  Often with her brusque manner she reminded the workers to hurry up because there was a lot of work to do.  Initially I felt a little taken aback and maybe that I didn’t work very fast.  After a while, I began to realize that she said the same thing to everyone and I did work just as quickly as anyone else.  This was confirmed when my employee evaluation was gone over with me and she had rated me high with performance, cooperation, and attitude.

Generally at my Renton cafeteria, as compared to that in Seattle, the staff tended to be older and put more time into service.  This reflected the demographics of the surrounding areas.  Young adults in their late teens through the twenties tended to be attracted to the big city.   Older people in the thirties and beyond are more inclined to live in outlining areas.  There was still the similar range of ages as in my first facility but with a greater shift towards the more mature.  Many of my co-workers were in the thirties.  This was an interesting observation for me as it taught me that people in different age groups are more likely to prefer different places to live. 

Even though I hardly ever told jokes or only occasionally displayed good humor, I had always appreciated hearing jokes from others.  Though I didn’t laugh very much, humor helped take my mind off my problems and lifted my spirits.  It is very important in this stressful world and living stressful daily lives that we look at the funny side of things as a good coping mechanism.  Several of my co-workers were very humorous and in turn fun to be with. 

One young woman, who was a little bit older than I, was very funny and had a knack for telling one joke after another.  Patty was the cafeteria clown.  Jokingly, she often commanded “hurry up” in a foreign language (Spanish).  She was well liked by others.  It was a very good thing that she was able to have fun and make others laugh since her life wasn’t easy.  She was a single parent raising a five-year-old son in a low-income housing, though she did get married a few years later.

 

Even since I lived on my own and had worked and came in contact with more people, I had developed ideas of stereotypes.  I never used stereotypes as a base to form prejudices against anyone from any grouping.  Throughout out my growing-up years through my college days whenever I heard my family members have discussions using stereotypes, it didn’t make sense to me.  It was beyond me to understand why people from certain categories (ethnic, occupation, and socioeconomic) are supposed to act in certain ways.  With my relatively sheltered life-style of home and school without joining any activities outside of my classes, I denied myself opportunities to observe and get to know people and learn about the dynamics of society.

After a half a year of volunteering for the Washington Protection and Advocacy System while visiting my family in July of 1981 when I was twenty-four, something clicked and I began to grasp the meaning of stereotypes.  With my contact with various people from the disabled community, I observed that they tended to advocate for greater justice and exhibit more sensitivity towards others.

After working in food service for a while, it became clear that indeed each group contain members that by and large tend to exhibit certain sets of characteristics; food service workers, parents of children with disabilities, religious people, and highly educated people.  I inferred that in both of my cafeterias my co-workers mostly came from a lower socioeconomic class and tended to be highly social and many held views that were more on the conservative side.  I certainly didn’t fit in the mold, but it was a good time for me to be working there and I still got along with them well.

Occasionally, I got surprised when someone did something that I perceived as deviating from the norm among food handlers, such as taking bee pollen, eliminating dairy products, using a water-based vacuum cleaner, and understanding difficult scientific research.  As I got to know each co-worker, I wasn’t so concern with the general group attributes as to cause me to overlook the individuality for each.  The more I knew them the more I realized the commonalties we had–dealing with hardships and emotions and having concern for others.

As the concept of stereotypes is abstract, it is difficult for those with autism, who tend to be much better in concrete concepts, such as animals and computers, to grasp the understanding.  But, it isn’t impossible it just may take longer to learn.  They tend to learn best through book or rote learning rather than drawing inferences of abstract reasoning, such as social cues and attaching certain characteristics to people in different groupings.  It is probably to one’s advantage an inability to see people as stereotypes, as this lack or innocence tend to reduce the chance of one forming prejudices.

There is danger that excessive adherence to viewing individuals as stereotypes could lead to prejudice and discrimination.  They seem to lose their humanness and become like objects that to us could more easily be discarded.  At the most extreme this could cause wars between groups of nations.  It is okay to grasp stereotypes to build comprehension where people come from and what are they more likely to be drawn to.   Only with open mindedness can we see that in any group there are some who don’t fit the mold or share all the characteristics that most of the members have.

BUILDING MY WINGS

Soaring up to New Heights

As the bird develops its wings,

And emerges from the nest.

It flaps it wings awkwardly,

While putting its independence to the test.

It may fall several times,

Before it soars up to greater new heights.

As it practices and gain experience,

It would surely achieve its sights.

I felt sad at the same time I felt some excitement of leaving home for a big adventure of moving so far away from mom and dad and living independently.  This was a period of my life with greater anxiety and a great deal of learning as I struggled through navigating my early adulthood.  I greatly appreciate the new connections with people who were very interesting and supportive.

 

On Sunday morning, January 18, 1981, my mother and Tom drove me to the Trailways bus depot for my departure across the country to the state of Washington.  I wanted to see more of the nation going by bus rather than flying in an airplane.  I took two suitcases to get started on my own and left behind the rest of my belongings to pick up little by little as I come back to visit.  As excited I was about making a change and moving to another place and looking forward to make greater choices in my adult life, I also felt sad to leave my parents, sister, and nieces.  My mother felt sad too and was in tears that I was leaving.  But, she understood that I was entitled to choose where I would live and work since I was an adult and capable of living on my own.

To keep myself occupied especially during stops besides looking out the window at the scenery, I brought along leftover yarn to crochet triangles to be sewn together into a soft sculpture.  Since I didn’t want to rely on expensive junk food that was sold along the way, I packed my own food that would last for several days, including cans of V-8 juice and plenty of homemade crackers that I had baked.

I loved taking in the scenery and the novel sights of wide, open spaces as the bus travel through the Midwest and the plains and to the Pacific Northwest.  The vastness of the fields and farms through sparsely populated areas was a novelty to me since I had lived in large metropolitan areas all my life.  It was interesting to view thunderstorms from miles and miles away and see cattle roaming close to the road.  It was fun going through and stopping at small towns along the way that looked so different from the large cities that I was used to.

Even when I got sleepy I tried to force myself to stay awake to look out the window until I fell asleep.  I wanted to save my dosing off until dark when I couldn’t see as well out.  Luckily at night I had two seats to myself so I was able to stretch out more in addition to reclining.  Even though I was able to fall asleep through the night, it wasn’t a restful sleep.  I woke up every two hours each night.  That was okay since I automatically dosed off when I was drowsy enough.

Through out the trip I met some friendly people who sat down next to me and we would chat for a while.  I sat with one woman at a restaurant while she had breakfast, though I purchased nothing during stops, including those allotted for meals eaten out, to enjoy her company.

During my final day before arrival in Seattle, I had the most interesting conversation with a friendly older woman who was on her way home to Bremerton in the Olympic Peninsula.  She was a foster grandparent to a boy with autism.  That put her in a good position to understand my challenges and to sustain a greater interest in me.  I was impressed to meet someone who was involved with autism.

All the way across the country, the weather was relatively mild for that time of the year.  There were no snow and ice on the roads that made traveling so much easier.  The mild temperatures made it nicer for getting out during stops to stretch my legs and go for short walks whenever I was given enough time.

When we entered the rainy Pacific Northwest, I was amazed how green everything was and that certain trees were in the early stage of blooming.  I had heard that the Northwest tends to get milder winters, but wetter, than the east coast with comparable latitudes.  I didn’t mind the rain since it is just water that our bodies need unless there is enough of it to cause flooding.

 

Finally on Wednesday evening after traveling three and a half days, all day and night by bus with a transfer in Chicago, Illinois, I arrived in Seattle.  Jean (Bob’s companion) picked me up and drove me to their place where I stayed until I found other arrangements.  I took one day off before I got involved with the Washington Protection and Advocacy System (WPAS), then the Troubleshooters, to do some volunteer work.

In the mornings around seven thirty while I stayed with my brother, he drove me to the South Kirkland Park and ride on his way to work to catch any of the express buses to downtown Seattle.  This was easier than walking about a half a mile to the commuter bus that ran through the neighborhood and to downtown, especially since that went by only once every half hour during peak periods compared to every five minutes from the park and ride.  I transferred to a bus that went up the hill through the Queen Anne neighborhood and back down to the Interlake area where WPAS had its office located in the Northwest Center for the Retarded.  I came back to Bob’s place late afternoon on my own.

After a week of going back and forth, I picked up a reduced fare permit in downtown as my bus fare for the month of February.  A doctor who stopped in the office one day signed the application form for the permit for reduced bus fare for senior citizens and disabled people, indicating that I had a permanent disability.  I didn’t have any idea that there was a program in which I would be eligible to go on bus with the reduced rate for those with disabilities until someone in my office brought it to my attention.  The permit itself cost only a dollar and had a photo of me.  This saved a lot of money.  WPAS paid for the monthly stickers while I did volunteer work.

For WPAS, I did basic office work, such as collating, stuffing and addressing envelopes, and copying.  One female worker, Carolyn, supervised and assigned tasks to me.  She was responsible for getting things ready for mailings and distribution.  .  She was a very friendly woman and I valued her as a good human being more than anything that overshadowed her challenges.

Carolyn was poor and lived in low-income housing for women in an old hotel that had been converted into apartments with community lounging areas and cafeteria that served meals for the residents.  It was located in First Hill, close to several hospitals and medical research centers which were just up the hill from downtown Seattle.  She had three children whose father had custody from their divorce and had them visit her on the weekends.

One evening I planned to go to a fund-raising function with the Washington Chapter of the National Society for Autistic Children (WANSAC).  After work Carolyn invited me to her place and treated me to dinner in the cafeteria.  From there we went together to the function that included hor d’oeuvres and a live band playing Jamaican Ray Gay music.

I had done the illustration of a Jamaican musician singing to the microphone for the flyer that was distributed.  I was interested in seeking a career in producing illustrations where I would utilize my artistic talent.  Also for WANSAC I had done an abstract design for a calendar also as a fundraiser.

As part of my job to prepare me for self-advocacy, I attended monthly meetings where advocates with the protection and advocacy system gathered together for ongoing training and support.  Even though I still had difficulty in paying attention to the talks I still enjoyed going to meet with other people and to get out of the rut of the routine office work.  I also liked that sometimes coffee and refreshments were served.  Though I took in the information such as disability and legislature issues in bits and pieces, I absorbed enough of it to understand the gests and how I might be able to apply some of it in the future.

While I still stayed with Bob, I received rides to and from these meetings from a friendly woman, named Mary who had just moved to Bellevue that was very close to Bob’s.  She and her husband had a son with Klinefelder’s Syndrome in which extra “X” chromosomes are present in the genome that effect mental outcomes and behavior.  Mary volunteered for WPAS through a government program, Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA) that paid a stipend to cover basic expenses.

Mary and I developed a good rapport with each other due to our mutual understanding of dealing with the hardships from disabilities though ours were different.  One evening on our way home from a hearing at the state capitol she and her husband treated me to dinner at a restaurant.  At another occasion, they invited me to their lovely home for dinner and the night over breakfast after I called to check on how they were doing.

In addition, the executive director of WPAS, named Katie, took me along to hearings on disability issues in Olympia, the state capitol of the Washington State.  During the early eighties when the government funding was tighter the legislature proposed cuts in services for the needy, including those with disabilities, and said that parents should pay a greater portion for care of their children with challenges.

 

Katie and her husband Duane, who founded WANSAC’ had an adult son with autism who was mute.  The son lived at home with live-in attendant care and attended a day work program at the Northwest Center for the Retarded.  One weekend, I was hired as a substitute to provide him attendant care.  On that Saturday, I went with him on the bus to meet a group of adults with disabilities for an outing to a bowling alley.  I supervised him to prevent inappropriate behaviors and from getting out of control when they occurred.  I also took him out for walks in his neighborhood.  It was easier for me to take him out than to come up with more interesting activities in the house.  Even though I had some understanding of autism from my personal background, I lacked confidence in providing care for the weekend.  I had no problems in the basic things such as getting him ready for the outings and preparing meals.  I had the most difficulty in initiating things to do that he might enjoy.  Katie sensed that I didn’t feel quite comfortable with the job and didn’t hire me again.  Overall, it was a good learning experience for me.

Katie was impressed with my progress after I told her about my story with autism, especially since I wasn’t as affected with it as her son.  She expressed a great deal of optimism in me, though I still had long ways to go in overcoming my challenges.  I still had a speech impediment with voice modulation problems and difficulty of getting into the flow and rhythm of group discussions.  She was very nice to me.  One evening, she treated me to dinner at a restaurant with several other people and invited me to sleep over her house, so we could leave together early in the morning for a hearing in Olympia that was about an hour and a half drive south from Seattle.

While I was at WPAS, I volunteered one hour a week on Thursday mornings to give basic instructions in art to a class of adults with mental retardation.  During the first session, I had given them a whole list of things to do without breaking them down into simplest steps that they could follow better, such as drawing a circle on construction paper and cutting it out, which was beyond them unless I simplify my instructions.  Most of the people were not able to follow my directions and had blank expressions on their faces.  It didn’t take me long at all to figure out that I needed to go over each step, one at a time slowly in order for their brains to process the activity for learning.  This was my first experience in working with people who were mentally deficient.

In that program, some of the participants were very friendly and outgoing despite their retardation.  One woman, named Sharon, was very social and always said “hello” and asked me how I was doing with a smile on her face.  She emanated innocence that tends to be lacking in many people who are more intelligent.  On the other hand there were a few individuals with autism who were extremely withdrawn.  It was very good to be exposed to the diversity within that group as I learned much more about people, from the more severely withdrawn who were non-verbal to the most gregarious who hugged and talked to everyone.

WPAS was generally good about hiring those with disabilities.  There was one woman with rheumatoid arthritis whose hands and legs were disfigured from the disease.  She wore braces to provide support for her hands and arms and walked with a cane.  She did paralegal work with an attorney at the office.  She was going to school to study law with an aspiration to become an attorney on disability issues.

In addition, there was a woman with obesity and glandular problems who had a developmental disability.  She had a speech impediment with disfluency and slowed speech, but she was very articulate.  She did secretarial work for the office and was involved with the People First organization that is made up of people with disabilities to promote self-advocacy.  She lived in a group home, the Liberty House, with five other adults with challenges and a housemother.  It was located in the Ballard neighborhood in Seattle where there is good bus service.

The office also had a prime advocate who answered all of the incoming phone calls and directed them to the right people.  A very friendly woman, named Barbara, from Arizona with a college degree and a background of working for the criminal justice was hired for the job.  She was over a year older than I and we became friends.  One evening we met at the University District to browse through the interesting shops and to buy tights to go with the dress for an evening out with Bob and Jean.

Another very friendly woman, named Laura, had begun to work for WPAS as an advocate for individuals with autism just before my arrival to Seattle.  She had grown up in New Jersey and worked for Co-Ad Inc., Idaho’s Protection and Advocacy Agency in Lewiston, Idaho as part of the Comprehensive Employment Training Act (CETA).  She was close to my age, a little bit over a year older than I and we also became friends.  She helped me often by driving me to all sorts of places from the WPAS office to cooperative housing with rooms for rent, the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation (DVR), employment workshops, and job interviews.

 

Several times throughout 1981, I attended monthly WANSAC parent support group meetings to meet parents of children with autism for them to learn from my personal experience.  I was well received by the group, especially during the early eighties when hardly anyone diagnosed with autism spoke about first-hand accounts about the disorder.  It was a refreshing change for them from only professionals giving talks on their work.  Since the autism spectrum was still very little known, most of the children and adults who were known to be effected had classical or the more severe to moderate cases where they could hardly communicate or speak at all in a normal mode.

I felt elated that people were impressed with my progress of dealing with autism as I was much less affected and had overcome many things, though I still had long ways to go to overcome my related difficulties.  Following the first meeting, I was featured in the WANSAC monthly newsletter for March 1981, Autistic Diary:

               

                “At the February WANSAC meeting we had the pleasure of introducing Debbie Myers to our members.  Debbie is a 23 year old autistic woman who recently moved to Seattle from Maryland and her discussion of her own experience was very enlightening to everyone who attended the meeting.  Debbie is extremely well read on the subject of Autism and seems to have a thorough understanding of her disability as can be seen from her story:

 

                ‘I was born on July 21, 1957 in New York City.  I suffered from childhood autism. I believe my autism was linked with auditory aphasia in which I had difficulty in decifering the messages I heard.  For instance, when people spoke to me it sounded like a foreign language.  I couldn’t learn to talk until I was 5 years old, when I learned to read by associating pictures with words.  These associations opened up new pathways into the auditory processing unit in my brain and provided me opportunities for new experiences.  Before I became verbal, I did some bizarre things such as rocking back and forth, pacing, and throwing books out the windows.  At this time I was enrolled in a special preschool program in Decoby Hospital, New York.  While in this program and in the following few years, I was able to do amazing things for my age such as building elaborate block designs, drawing according to rules of linear perspective, and working with simple fractions.

 

                From ages five to fifteen years old I was enrolled in the League School for the Emotionally Disturbed, where I began to relate to others at a rudimentory level.  When I was 8 years old my behavior patterns became normal and I began socializing more appropriately with other children in my age group.  At the age of 10, as I entered into pubescence, my behavior regressed and I developed unusual obsessions such as needing to be the first person off the bus.  I was having great difficulty concentrating in school throughout puberty and my studies suffered for the next few years until I was 12 1/2, when my behavior once again began to improve.  I was soon better able to concentrate and developed an interest in the sciences.  I did well in math and excelled in art.  My overall performance in school was average according to normal standards for kids my age.

 

                After a temporary stay with my older sister in Ohio where I first attended public high school in the tenth grade for one semester, I moved to Pennsylvania with my parents.  I continued in public high school there until a move to northern Virginia, where I graduated in 1976 at the age of 19.  My overall high school academic performance was good as I had finally learned how to study correctly and became a diligent student.

 

                The following fall, I began my college career at Northern Virginia Community College where I received an Associates degree in Fine Art after 2 years.  I then attended the University of Maryland where I graduated in December 1980 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Visual Fine Art Studio with a minor in Zoology.  My college academic performance was excellent and I enjoyed all my various courses, my favorite being print making.        

 

                In January I moved to Seattle to be near my older brother in Bellevue, with whom I am currently staying.  I am in the process of looking for housing, preferably in a co-operative living situation, and I am searching for a job.  I would like to be employed as a medical illustrator but would be interested in any work in the art field.  At the moment I am involved in doing volunteer work in the Troubleshooters office and doing work with one of the programs at the Northwest Center.’”             

 

I inserted this biographic sketch without any corrections in grammar and flow to reveal more of my thought processes back then.  Like many others with autism, I included some details that weren’t necessary and didn’t add anything to it other than showing my obsessions of doing well in school.  I even exaggerated my college scholastic performance to boost my ego into believing that I did better than I really had.  Also like many people with the disorder, I didn’t elaborate as much on my interests and hobbies, which was more pertinent to who I was.  Overall, it was very interesting and educational for the members to read.

 It was very good for me to have regular contact with those with more severe disabilities from both the general diversity and autism community.  This had continuously to remind me not to take any of my capabilities for granted and to enable me to gain more understanding of the struggles some people endure with everyday activities that most of us take for granted.  This gave me even greater appreciation for all sorts of people who function at various levels.  No matter how severely effected they were, I felt the beauty of the depths of their soul.

 

One evening when I needed a room for rent, Laura drove me around to look at places that were advertised in the University of Washington.  First we checked the student activities building, the “HUB”, for the want ads on the bulletin board where all sorts of things were posted including off-campus housing.  Since generally many students need a cheap place to live, they opt for cooperative living situations that are less expensive than a small apartment by oneself.  I selected a few in Seattle that were on the bus line and wasn’t far from the university to see.

It was very difficult to find a cooperative living situation in the community that accepted me.  One of the houses where I inquired about a room for rent was very old and had numerous steps leading up to the front door.  A mother with young children rented out rooms in this house to a few people.  I liked the idea that each renter prepared own meals and had their own cupboard space in the kitchen since I was on a special diet.  Though, I sensed that she wouldn’t feel too comfortable with me living there.  She said that she would call me back to let me know her decision, but she never got back to me. 

We went to another housing prospect that was owned by a young single man.  Since he had space for as many as six people, he had two refrigerators in the large kitchen to provide enough room for each individual to store food.  It seemed like a nice place that was close to several bus lines that could get me to downtown or the university easily.  Like the other person I saw for the other place, the young man didn’t seem very receptive of me and indicated that he would call me to let me know about his decision within a week.  He did inform me that he chose somebody else.

As it approached towards the end of February when I already had been with Bob and Jean for over a month, I felt discouraged about ever finding a room in a cooperative house that was in satisfactory condition with a reasonable rent where I would be accepted.  I was taken aback by the interviewers in the places that I was interested who never gave me a chance to become part of their community even though I was confident that I could get along well with others.  Unfortunately, it was still painfully obvious that I had some neurological condition with my appearance and speech impediment.  Since these folks didn’t have any understanding of my background, they felt uncomfortable about taking me in, due to fear of the unknown caused by preconceived idea they had.  This lowered my self-esteem that wasn’t that high to begin with.  While I thought that I was acting normally, I had no notion of what I did that turned strangers off.

 

One morning when I was at the office, I expressed my concerns of finding a suitable place to live, a friendly woman, Ramona, who came in occasionally to do volunteer work happened to be around and overheard me.  Ramona who had seen me only a few times offered me her place to stay.  She had a greater appreciation for my struggles to make it on my own with my challenges since she had two sons with cerebral palsy, one who had died.  That same day, she took me out to lunch at a restaurant and showed me her house.

During the following weekend on March 1, 1981, Bob moved me to her place that was located in Brier, a small community in south Snohomish County nestled between Mountlake Terrace and Lynnwood and north King County.  I was about twenty miles north from downtown Seattle.  Though I had been contented while I stayed with Bob and Jean for the six weeks, I needed to move out so they could have more privacy like most other families.

Even though I didn’t have my own room and slept in the recreation room, I felt that I had a much better deal than I would have if I moved into any of the houses I saw in Seattle.  First of all, it was better for me to be with someone, who had dealt with disability issues, rather than with folks who lack any understanding by not being exposed to such.

Secondly, I wasn’t quite ready to live in the middle of a large city again such as Seattle.  I liked to be farther out where there were more trees and fields and where the houses were farther apart.  Whenever I was home, I went out for long jogs/walks to explore as much of the area as possible.  Sometime I was out for a few hours at a time.  There were tall Douglas firs and other trees everywhere and several horses and goats around.

Thirdly, unlike the other rooms that were available, I wasn’t charged any rent since Ramona understood my situation and wanted to help me out.  One morning, she drove me to the Department of Social and Health Services (DSHS) at the Mountlake Terrace branch to apply for food stamps since I was on my own and wasn’t earning any income.  I received them immediately upon my appointment and bringing in a note that I was staying with Ramona rent-free and a letter from the doctor describing my disability.  Though I appreciated getting the food coupons to cover my food costs, I wanted to be hired somewhere with adequate pay and health care benefits, since I was over the age to be covered under my father’s insurance plan and wasn’t able to afford my own.

 

Arrangements were made by WPAS for me to go to a psychiatrist who was familiar with autism to interview me for an assessment.  Like myself, Dr. Reichler was a Jew from New York City and he recalled observing the special preschool program in the Jacobie Hospital in the early sixties that was about the same time that I was in a class there.  This contributed to the good rapport I had with him.  In his report on me that I read later, he indicated that my posture and bodily movements including gestures were little bit off and excessive use of hands and head.  He also noted about my speech impediment (disfluency with a lack of control of voice modulation) and a lack of self-confidence by the way I carried myself.  I tended to talk too loudly as I wasn’t able to hear myself as well as I should had.  He wrote down autism as diagnosis.

As part of autism, I didn’t always communicate what I was supposed to.  For instance, after I told everyone, including Bob, that I was planning to attend the WANSAC parent’s meeting for March, I failed to inform people of my decision of not going, though I wasn’t sure until the last minute.  I debated whether I should go or not as I had a low-grade gastro-intestinal virus and a long commute in the evening.  I was home for a few days to rest.  I almost got ready to go, and then I decided that I would still be too weak to walk over a mile to Lake Forest Park to catch the only bus that ran through the general area in the evenings and weekends to Seattle.

I felt worse and remorseful when Bob called me after he especially went to the meeting to see me and was disappointed that I had not shown up.  I didn’t blame him for his anger, since he had to drive across the lake and back on the floating Evergreen Bridge all for a no-show.  I realized that it was important for me to make my final decision by the morning of the meeting, stick to it and let people know.

 

Despite differences in our personalities and values–Ramona more conservative and I more liberal–she was very nice to me and treated me like a member of her family and we got along very well.  She took me everywhere with her, including taking me along to visit her best friend who was Italian and lived close by within the neighborhood and to see the home for people with cerebral palsy in the north end of Seattle.

One weekend when Ramona’s husband came home from Bend, Oregon where his job was, I went along with the family, including the son with cerebral palsy to their trailer on their property out in the country in Arlington, Washington.  It was less than an hour’s drive north.  I was thrilled to see the countryside as I went out for a long jog.  This helped release the tensions and concerns that I had about my employment prospects.

I also was invited to go along on a much longer trip to eastern Washington for a few days.  Ramona had some business to take care of at a religious school, the Walla Walla College in the town of Walla Walla.  Since this school was owned by the Seventh Day Adventists, there was good vegetarian food in line with their dietary beliefs and mine too.  Food was still an obsession of mine.  Besides seeing the scenery of driving through the mountains and desert and jogging in the vicinity of the motel we stayed, I loved being provided with meals with unlimited quantities in the cafeteria.

On the way home, we stopped in a migrant town, Sunnyside, with a high Hispanic population, to visit a Mexican friend.  Despite a late start and that stopover, we made it to Seattle for my dinner invitation with Laura, a friend from WPAS to meet Charlie Hart, a member of the autism society, and his family, at their house, who was very active with WANSAC.  Charlie had both a brother and a son with autism.  The brother was in my art class at the Northwest Center.  We told our stories so we could learn from each other that were the main objective of the evening.  This was a fun way to get some autism training.  Laura stayed for a week with Charlie’s family to learn more about them.  I slept over and was served breakfast, since there was no way for me to get home so late in the evening.

 

After staying with Ramona for three weeks, I moved out and stayed with Katie and her family.  Katie, Laura, and I discussed that it would be better to be in the city since there was better public transportation for me to get around more easily for looking for jobs and weekend and evening recreation.

But, the thing I did wrong was that I had Laura transport my belongings without talking to Ramona before hand about it.  When I called her after all of my stuff was out of her place, she was disappointed that I didn’t inform her about my move even though the situation wasn’t set up for permanence.  She was shocked that it was done so fast without any warning.  I felt very remorseful and sorrowful.  I hated the idea of making anyone feel bad due to my wrongdoing and lack of communication.  I learned from this experience that people need at least a week or so to be informed of and to adjust to change that involves them, regardless of how temporary the setup may be.

In Katie’s house, I had my own room in the basement, next to those set aside for the son’s attendants.  He had one for during the week and another for the weekend.  I hardly had any floor space, since there were already two beds in such a small room.  That was okay since I was just there to sleep and to get dressed.  I spent most of my waking hours in the living room which was more comfortable for reading or stretching exercises, though that took away some of the privacy for the family, although I did a watercolor in my room where there was a small table.

The house sat on a hill overlooking Lake Washington in the Mount Baker neighborhood that was relatively racially mixed and near the central area of Seattle.  When I went out jogging, I learned to stay within several blocks from the water going through the lake front parks and the stylish old homes in the area.  Just above the hill, away from the lake, were slum areas.  I felt safe as long as I stayed within the more affluent zone.

 

Since I still had a very hard time of finding any paying job, I applied for the General Public Assistance for the unemployable (GPAU) at the Department of Social and Health Services (DSHS) and the Supplemental Security Income (SSI) at the Social Security Administration (SSA).  In both places, I filled out forms in stacks of paper and brought in a note from the doctor stating my disability along with a note of my housing arrangements.  I received public assistance from the state that included a little bit of money for rent, a small allowance, food stamps, and Medicaid coupons for health care.  But, I was turned down for SSI that apparently had tighter eligibility.  With SSI, I wouldn’t need to reapply every three months as I did for the state program.  I appealed for the federal aid but received no change in the decision.

From a contact of my friend, Katie, I was afforded an opportunity to house sit for a couple, John and Marilyn, who would be fishing in Alaska during the summer.  Marilyn who interviewed me was a daughter of friends of Katie and Duane.  The small two-bedroom house was perfect for me to be in at that time and was in a good location.  I stayed for rent-free and used food that was there.

The house was located in Greenwood, a nice neighborhood in Seattle’s north end.  It was in between two bus lines that ran frequently, north and south, and was a few blocks away both to the west and to the east.  There were also express buses that ran during peak hours.  After having a job where I was confined all day and all night, I appreciated having the freedom to come and go as I pleased without asking for permission, such as to job interviews, community events, picnics, and hikes.

Originally I was responsible for two dogs until the younger and active one escaped from the fenced yard and ran away for good.  I went all over the neighborhood looking for the dog without any luck.  I was worried since I felt responsible and concerned how the John and Marilyn would feel over the loss of their dog.  I called Marilyn’s mother and explained to her what happened.  She realized that it wasn’t my fault and told me not to be to worry.  Marilyn wrote to me from Alaska after she had heard and also told me not to worry.  She expected that the dog might jump over the fence since she was very hyper and ran and jumped all over people.  I felt better and was relieved of my guilt.

The remaining dog that I took care of was such a contrast to the other one.  She was getting old and had a thyroid deficiency that caused her skin to produce excessive oil and lowered her energy levels.  Every morning I gave her a thyroid pill in her food.  I gave her frequent showers outside with a hose for skin problems including eczema.  I didn’t mind the extra things I did for her, due to her medical condition, since I loved her so much and enjoyed her company.  Whenever I went away for overnight or the weekend, John’s parents, came to pick up the dog and brought her back when I came back.

I also took care of a long-haired male cat.  He was very friendly and jumped on the bed to lie besides me at night.  It was so good to have pets around since I was living alone without any human companionship as they helped fill in the void of being loved and accepted unconditionally regardless of my disability and place in life.

I slept in the master bedroom.  During the day after my long walks when I didn’t have any place to go, I spent time in the second bedroom, which was set up as the sewing room, drawing and sewing.  I had Bob set up my drawing table that Larry had made me when I stayed at his place.  I set up my new compact stereo I purchased with some of the money I saved from working for Elva to have music since the stereo system in the living room was too far away for me to hear.  With my new gift to myself I recorded some of John and Marilyn’s records on tapes so I could take the music with me when I moved on.

Periodically Marilyn’s mother and her youngest daughter from West Seattle called me and dropped by to check on the house to make sure everything was okay.  I always cleaned the house before they came so they would see it looking at it best.

The daughter, Joann, who had just graduated from high school, was born with one of her hands missing and had a metal claw attached to the stub on her arm to enable her to maneuver things.  Joann and I seemed to hit it off well with our mutual understanding of growing up with challenges though completely different in nature.

One evening I applied for an attendant care job for a young quadriplegic woman who lived in Shoreline.  She had been severely injured in a diving accident in a swimming pool.  Since I wanted a job I told her that I would be willing to obtain a driver’s license as long as I would be provided with a vehicle.  She liked me and hired me.  The next morning I went there for training by the attendant who was leaving.  I figured that since I was only a few miles away I could do both live-in chore services and house sit.  I thought that I could check on the Greenwood house once a day during my morning jog.

Right after the training I got together with people from WPAS for lunch out and mentioned to them about the job.  They suggested that I decline on the job offer since it would be too much to do both.  Since I already had committed myself to house sitting and couldn’t get a replacement easily with the couple being away in Alaska, I was obligated to stay in Greenwood especially with pets to care for.  I called back as soon as I got home and canceled the job offer.  I felt sorry that I needed to back out after having wasted the few hours of training.

 

By being in Seattle it was not only easier for me to go places by public transportation it was also easier to get rides with the Mountaineers for hiking.  I had joined that organization for outdoor recreation in August of 1981.  When I lived in White Center, even though it wasn’t far from Seattle, I had difficulty getting rides or even meeting my assigned driver to hiking trails since I was out of the way from the major freeway (Interstate 5).  I was able to go hiking twice while I lived at White Center when someone from my group just happened to live only blocks away from me and took me to meet our driver.  Another time my driver was willing to go out of the way to pick me up.

At least, when I hadn’t been able to get rides to the mountains for most of the outings I signed up for, there were evening slide shows by the Mountaineers I was able to go to.  I didn’t have any fear of walking from the bus stop alone late at night even when I had close to a mile to go such as when I stayed with Bessie and Louis.  I felt very safe in areas such as White Center and Greenwood.  As I didn’t have any money for travel and couldn’t go to many places without a car or rides, watching slides of various places in Washington State and around the world was the next best thing to visiting them.  I loved looking at pictures and seeing what different areas looked like.

While I was in Greenwood since I was located much closer to the interstate and right in Seattle I was able to get more rides to Mountaineer activities.  Unlike when I lived further away, I was able to go on most things that I signed up for.  Through out the summer of 1982 when I was twenty-five while I house sat, I went on several day hikes and a few weekend camping outings in the Cascades Mountains.

Besides weekend activities, the Mountaineers had things going during the week such as mid-week day and evening hikes and classes in folk dancing and trail safety.  Mid-week day hikes had been nice for me to do on some of my days off when I was in Woodinville.  I went on two hikes during the six weeks working for Elva.

During the summer, evening “owl hikes” worked out very well for me.  These outings included short hikes on trails relatively close to Seattle that began early in the evening and a cookout for dinner when permitted.  Often we headed back to the cars when it started to get dark and needed our flashlights–hence “owl hike.”  Often I was driven by a married older British man who lived only two miles south of me in the Phinney Ridge neighborhood in Seattle where the Woodland Park Zoo was.  He was very friendly and never wanted me to reimburse him for gas except for a long drive when he drove me for a day hike.  We went to small mountains, city and state parks, beaches on the Puget Sound, and large water falls.

Hiking was excellent for both my body and mind as it strengthened my body and calmed my mind.  Simultaneously I felt greater vitality from hiking.  Admiring the scenery and wildlife was meditative and rejuvenating to my mind.  I became even more focused whenever I came upon photo opportunities for me to take pictures of close ups and open vistas, with my new SR 35mm camera with a micro-35-70mm lens that my father had sent me money for.  Whenever I saw the beauty of nature all around me I felt myself merging and become one with it.  This had helped dissipate stress in my daily life and was very soothing.  I especially needed it when I went through more stressful times in my life.

 

When John and Marilyn came back from Alaska in September of 1982, I needed to move and found a room for rent.  This was a very stressful period in my life when I was faced with more uncertainties of where my life was going.  I had hoped that I would have been employed by the time the house sitting ended and I could pay rent somewhere again.  I was concerned that my temporary job in chore services might be taken as proof that I was employable and I might be denied of subsequent requests for Public Assistance for the Unemployable that I had been receiving before I worked for Elva.  A few weeks later, it was approved for a few months more.  Without a job or any government funds I wouldn’t be able to afford rent on my own.  I didn’t want to depend on my parents for rent money or my mother and Tom or Bob and Jean are forced to take me into their houses to become a burden to them if I couldn’t make money.

To make myself more marketable, in October of 1982, I attended a seminar by the Resources for the Handicapped for intensive training in caring for people in wheelchairs including those with quadriplegia.  It took included two Saturdays and a few evenings in between.  I felt that the knowledge would give me an added advantage for job prospects.

With what seemed as perfect timing a contact I had made provided me with a housing opportunity.  I met Vicki (not her real name) at a presentation on the history of woman’s labor movement.  When I told her that I drew, she asked me to design a logo for her window washing business.  When I called her about the project and mentioned to her that I needed to find a place to live, she had two rooms available in her house and rented them.  She picked me up to show me the rooms she had available.

I had a choice of two rooms, the recreation room with three of it walls in windows of the front of the house or a regular bedroom facing the back yard.  I chose the latter since it was less drafty and warmer.  I liked it that my room had hardwood floors unlike the vinyl floor in the recreation room.  It was unfurnished, but had an old dresser, so Bob and Jean loaned me one of their spare mattresses with bedding.

Vicki, who appeared to be in her fifties, apparently had neurosis that might have been related to her hypoglycemia.  She was the most demanding and particular of any of the other people I had stayed with.  She set up a crazy household chore schedule that rotated monthly.  Whoever had her turn up did all of the general household chores for the month and wouldn’t be expected to do any of them in the subsequent months until her name comes up again.  I didn’t like that system with its all or nothing approach.  I preferred that the responsibilities would be more evenly distributed.  I also felt that Vicki was too fussy about my cleaning.  Whenever I left behind a single crumb she got on my case and demanded that I wipe it up immediately.

I shared the kitchen with Vicki and her other boarder who was a nineteen-year-old woman studying nursing.  We each prepared our own meals and were provided with a shelf in the cupboard.  Vicki didn’t let anyone use her things such as dishes, pots and pans, and small appliances.  We each had to supply every thing for cooking and eating.  Luckily I already had the basics though Spartan, an old beat-up skillet from a rummage sale, a mess kit from Joann, cake and cookie pans that I bought while in White Center, glass jars to use as mugs, a place setting with one plate I had found and several plastic bowls, and a few spoons.  The young woman and I had a refrigerator and the second bathroom to us since Vicki had her own.

One thing that ticked me off the most with Vicki was when I arrived home from an evening out to find a note with my food dehydrator unplugged even where the fruit still had long way to go.  She wanted me ask her permission first to use it and didn’t want me to use it in the house.  I got angry that she turned it off without asking me.  I responded by turning it on again since she was in bed.  By the morning it was turned off.  She said that if only I would talk to her then she would let me plug it in the back yard.

I got so mad that I lost my temper and yelled and cursed at her.  I rarely lose my temper since I am generally very slow to anger.  I tend to be even tempered.  It is under rare situations that when I am under a lot of stress and at the same time being under a lot of pressure to accommodate for others that I am in danger of losing it.  It was a very stressful period of my life and I was forced to accommodate for Vicki since I was staying at her house.  It is very humiliating whenever this happens and I have a bad temper. 

To continue drying the flat of pears I had bought at a produce stand I called John and Marilyn, whom I house sat for, since they lived very close and were a straight shot by one bus, and brought the food dehydrator with pears to their place.  Luckily they were very nice and were willing to help me.

It was too bad that I didn’t realize how intrusive the device was especially with the constant humming noise by the fan going non-stop.  I was so used to using anything I wanted at any time I pleased.  Since it was Vicki’s house I should have spoken to her about using anything that was so intrusive as to be on for hours and hours up to as long as twenty-four hours.  It was shortly after this incident when I had time to think about it that I came to the realization of how imposing this was.  It was a good learning experience even with the suffering.

Until I moved into Vicki’s place, I had considered myself rather easygoing with the other people I had stayed with including, both of my parents, Bob and Gail with their spouses, and friends.  I was used to being allowed to do things my way since they never placed unreasonable demands upon me.  By the same token, I never made great demands and always let others have their ways.  I always hated to complain since it is disruptive to building peace.  It wasn’t that Vicki was a bad person–it was just that I was ill prepared to deal with her demands that I had never been confronted with by anyone else.  I had learned to become more considerate in new situations and be prepared the each person is different and could place demands that could catch me off guard.

As my stress levels climbed up from dealing with the new situation which was incompatible and the uncertainties of my future, I suffered psychosomatic disorders–digestive problems with frequent diarrhea.  Throughout my life whenever I was under greater distress than usual, I would have a much harder time digesting food.  There is definitely a strong interrelationship between the mind and the body.  It is common for individuals with autism to have weaker digestion due to greater amount of potential stress in daily living.

 

After living in Vicki’s place for two months, I moved out and had Bob store my belongings since I had planned to go to Maryland to spend Thanksgiving and some time thereafter with my folks.  I was feeling discouraged since I was already twenty-five years old and still haven’t been able to land a permanent job.  I thought that maybe I couldn’t make it in the Pacific Northwest and should maybe move back to Maryland so that my mother and her husband could take me under their wing when things would get tough, such as if my public assistance would stop.

Even during my darkest moments, I never wanted to leave the West Coast since I had more exploring in the area to do and I was very close to my brother.  I visited Bob and Jean almost every week with overnight stays.  Whenever either of our parents visited us, I stayed with Bob so we could all be together.

During Thanksgiving week I stayed with my mother and my Japanese stepfather, Tom, in the Rockville condominium.  It felt so good to visit family during my troubled time.  They wanted to help me as much as possible and looked into a highly rated vocational and residential program, the Community Services for Autistic Adults and Children.  The main problem was that with high demand and not enough openings the waiting list to get in was very long.  I had agreed to check things out if my mother and sister did the searching.  That didn’t mean that I was obligated to stay in Maryland for good.

For several weeks in December of 1982, I went to stay with Gail and the girls in the attic apartment in Brookline, Massachusetts.  That location was in an affluent area with a highly rated school district, close to downtown Boston.  Almost everyday I walked through different streets that I hadn’t been to before to see something new.

To keep myself busy while I was there, I did embroidery, drawings, and reading.  The drawings I worked on were on special paper with colored marking pens that were included in a kit that Gail purchased and were sent back the completed drawings to the company to be made into plastic plates.  I drew still-lives and abstract designs.

 

As I looked through the selection of Gail’s books, I came upon nutrition books that I was very interested in–Let’s Eat Right by Adele Davis and a paperback guide to fasting.  I felt a need to gain more knowledge about nutrition and diet to apply to better health.  The low purine diet that I had tried for over two years didn’t work out too well for me.  It was too restrictive especially limited in the protein sources.  Since basically the only high protein foods that were allowed were dairy products and eggs, I consumed large quantities of these foods that could do more harm than good.  After experimenting with that diet for over two years, I had evaluated the effects and I didn’t notice improved health that was the main thing that I was striving for.

Actually several months earlier during the summer of 1982 while I was house sitting, I began to suspect that dairy products were culprits to some of my health concerns, such as food sensitivities that caused sinus and digestive weaknesses and had cut back on them.  After one week of eliminating dairy and substituting nutritional yeast in hot cereal, my environmental sensitivities, such as to weed pollen and the cat I took care of, were almost all gone.  I barely felt any congestion.

As I looked back on the previous two years since the fall of 1980, I noticed that my sinus and throat congestion that I attributed to environmental factors had gotten worse with increased consumption of dairy products.  In spring of 1981 while I was staying with Katie and Duane, a young woman who worked with their son on several weekends and was a strict vegetarian told me how dairy products could cause excess production of mucus in the body that could lead to allergies and sensitivities.  Even though things made sense to me and I wanted to believe her, I was afraid to eliminate them from my diet and to impose a greater restriction.  I was concerned with further protein limitations that I might not get enough, though I cheated occasionally and had whole wheat breads, tofu (soy), and a little bit of fish.  I wanted to try one diet at a time for a while so I could more effectively evaluate the effects.

When I had read several magazine articles about food sensitivities which attributed an array of health problems due to foods with dairy and wheat listed as the most common offenders, I began to suspect that perhaps I had been reacting to foods without my awareness throughout my life which might had affected my brain to manifest autistic symptoms and my digestive system.

Perhaps I had gained an explanation for my early childhood concerns, such as frequent vomiting with low body weight and a learning difference.  For example, as an infant, I was nicknamed “cheese factory”–based on vomiting frequently, and it resembled cheese curds.  I had problems with digestion.  I had difficulty of keeping food in.  I was skinny throughout my infancy–I never did fill out like healthy babies should.  I suspected that I was highly sensitive to cow’s milk as I was bottle-fed and it was considered good food for babies.  I learned that dairy is not good for many people for various reasons–food sensitivities, allergies, and lactose intolerance.  I did better without it.

In addition to finding food sensitivities, I had increased the use of garlic in foods for the health benefits that were touted by nutrition books.  During the early eighties I had consumed about one to two gloves of garlic in salads and beans everyday.  Besides the health benefits for the circulatory and immune systems, I had always loved the flavor of it.  The problem was that I had consumed so much of it as to cause me to smell strongly of garlic that was socially repulsive in the United States.  It was when I visited my family in the fall of 1982 when my sister had pointed out my strong odor that I began to greatly reduce the consumption of garlic to eliminate the smell and make myself more acceptable to the American society.  I also included dark green leafy vegetables whenever I used garlic to help counteract the odor.

When I read about the link between stress and vitamins–particularly B-vitamin complex and vitamin C–in Let’s Eat Right, I became convinced that treating high blood uric acid level, which could be stress related with a highly restrictive low purine diet was not the answer, at least for me.  It was an example of treating the symptoms rather than getting to the root cause of the problem.  Perhaps my high stress levels could be the result of vitamin deficiencies.  Some individuals, especially those under greater amount of stress, tend to burn up greater amounts of certain vitamins–vitamins B and C.  So in hope of lowering my stress levels more effectively, I began taking mega-doses of these vitamins along with high potency multiple vitamin and mineral pills.  With this program I felt ready to leave behind my experimental diet and increased my consumption of beans, whole wheat, and added back some meat but not nearly as much as I had used before the eighties.  I still preferred to eat vegetarian whenever I was home.

After my visit with Gail and the girls, I stopped in Pennsylvania to see my father on the way back to Maryland by train.  I had decided that I wanted to give Seattle another chance for at least a few more years.  I had stayed in the East Coast for two month in all, the maximum time away that my return airline ticket allowed.

 

Since leaving my mother’s nest and living on my own I had become more matured as I was forced to deal with the adult world myself.  To fulfill my needs–economic and social–I needed to interact with others in the community.  I no longer wanted to live in isolation as I did during my adolescence.  I was afforded opportunities in social development by participation in various activities–volunteer work, parties, and hiking–where I mingled with others, besides enjoying the recreation.  I learned to take the initiatives to go places to enrich my life and to learn more about the world and people.

“If any of you lack wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.  But, when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.”—James 1:5-

At Katie’s place, we shared all of the food including purchases with my food stamps.  That worked out very well with my diet since the household was into health food.  Their interest in the more natural foods was influenced by attendants who were students at the John Bastyr College of Naturopathic Medicine.  Katie’s son was put on an all-natural wholesome foods diet that excluded all additives with artificial colorings, flavorings, and preservatives to control some of his emotions and behavior.  As the result over time, he became calmer and slimmer.  But, by no means was his autism cured since that was neurologically based rather than metabolically based.

To shop for a wide variety of unprocessed, wholesome foods we all went to the largest food co-op in the Seattle area, the Puget Consumers Co-op, which had several stores.  It was from there that I was introduced to different grains such as millet, basmati rice, and bulgur wheat (cracked).  The weekday attendant, who was mostly vegetarian with occasional consumption of fish, prepared good grain dishes for everyone, such as millet/bulgur wheat combo flavored with Dr. Brennon’s vegetarian sauce that tasted almost like Worchester sauce.  I loved all of these new things, especially since they are part of a healthy diet.

Based upon the influence I received from reading a few books on nutrition that promoted the beneficial effects on health from consuming raw foods that contains healthful enzymes that help aid digestion, I began to prepare and eat more salads with raw vegetables with every meal that I fixed myself.  All enzymes are destroyed in cooking, since they don’t survive in temperatures over 112 degrees F.  Whenever I picked up groceries, I bought as many varieties of vegetables that were in season as possible, and I ate large servings of them daily.  Though I wasn’t in perfect vibrant health yet, I noticed slight improvements in digestion and my moods.

 

Since I was on my own and like many other young adults, I was invited to many more parties than when I lived with my parents.  For example, a few times during the year, Laura invited me to parties at places where she lived with her good friend from New Jersey and a few other housemates in cooperative living arrangements.  Even though I enjoyed meeting the people I spent most of the time nibbling on the food.  I hardly talked to anyone.  Even with the thick haze from the marijuana smoke that I was sensitive to, I enjoyed the stimulation of being with a crowd of festive folks and around plenty of delicious food to stuff myself with.

 

One morning in downtown Seattle as I was walking down the hill to First Avenue to make my bus connection, I bumped into a parent whom I met at WANSAC meetings.  Bessie asked me if I found a room yet and if I would be interested in renting a room in her house which was in south White Center, nestled in the south end in between West Seattle and Burien close to the Puget Sound.  She drove me to her place to show me and I took the offer, because it was in a nice area, away from the big city, yet there was sufficient enough bus service.  For weekend and evening use, I had to walk a little bit to a bus.  I missed the more open spaces and the less density that were further away from Seattle.  I didn’t feel quite ready for the big city living yet.  From what I had learned in my prior experience, I had informed Katie sufficient time well in advance of the move, at least a week.

Whenever I went to Seattle on weekday mornings I took a commuter bus that I caught two blocks from the house.  During off-peak hours I had to take buses that required more walking, twelve blocks east or fifteen blocks southwest in West Seattle.  When I had been living there eight months, a bus was added to provide more regular service on off-peak hours that I caught two blocks away like the commuter run.

Bessie had two daughters.  The older daughter graduated from high school in June of 1981 shortly after I moved in, appeared to be without a disability.  She lived on her own close to her mother’s place.  The younger daughter, who was almost thirteen and fathered by a poor man in a small trailer, was very smart with health issues.   Bessie met her third husband, whom she bought the house with, and fostered his older daughter.  It worked out very well that I lived with them since they were able to put up with my differences and challenges. 

 

Even though I was contented about to stay with Bessie and Louis, I visited a few group homes for those with disabilities to see what they looked like.  I went to the Liberty House during their open house, where the secretary of WPAS and my acquaintance with juvenile diabetes lived with a few other adults.  It was located in Ballard, Scandinavian neighborhood in Seattle.  Besides viewing the rooms, I loved having the refreshments.

When there was an opening at another group home for about six adults located in the Twin Lakes area of Federal Way, a community close to the sound about twenty-five miles south of Seattle, I was driven there to take a look at it.  That house was too far out of the way for regular bus service on the weekend and evenings for me to even consider.

 

I felt like that I was becoming popular with WANSAC, because two other sets of parents invited me to dinner at their homes so they could become more acquainted with me.  While I was at the open house at the Liberty House, a couple from the autism society who had an adult son with autism and lived in West Seattle drove me home, since I wasn’t too much out of the way.  During the spur of the moment, we stopped in their place that sat on a steep hill overlooking the sound, for dinner before they drove me home.

Another mother from WANSAC, who lived in North Seattle and had a thirty-four-year-old son with autism and an adult daughter who lived with her, invited me for dinner that also ended up as an overnight stay with breakfast.  We had such a great time that time seemed to have swept away without our realizing, and it got too late for me to go home by bus and they didn’t want to drive at night.  It was very enriching to visit and get to know the parents and learn from their experiences while I practice my social skills.  This was very important.

 

I was provided with additional opportunities to sharpen my socialization, during July of 1981 when I attended the International Symposium on Autism sponsored by the National Society of Autistic Children (NSAC) that was held in Boston, Massachusetts.  I figured that I might as well go to the conference to educate myself more and visit my folks since they were both on the east coast.  I went across the country from Seattle to Boston by bus, so I could see more of the nation.  It took four and a half days.  The main drawback was that I had estimated that the trip would be one day less since that was how long it had taken from Washington, D.C. to Seattle.  So I arrived in Boston a day late and missed the first day of the symposium.  Luckily the most interesting topics were on the other days.  When I arrived during the morning peak hour commute I took the subway to the hotel where the conference was.  I didn’t have the money for the taxi fare.

I showed up just in time for the start of the second day.  I was most interested in the neurobiological findings and research.  It was a good year for me to attend, since that was when scientists and doctors from around the world came up with more recent discoveries in psychobiology and medicine.

On the other hand, I wasn’t too tuned into applications theories for home and school, since I wasn’t a parent and didn’t plan to become a professional.  I lacked any confidence of ever being able to work with people directly.  During the presentations that least interested me, I had an even greater tendency to tune out and get into my daydreams, though I had difficulty of attending to any talks including the favorite one for long periods.

I met my sister Gail at the conference who also attended.  We commuted back and forth by train and stayed with her good friend from high school, Eleanor who lived in the Boston area with her husband.  This saved a lot of money on hotel stays, besides it was much more fun to stay with friends.  Eleanor was so excited that my speech showed a great deal of improvement that she called her mother in New York and had me say hello to her.  Since they hadn’t seen me for fourteen years they noticed the changes in me though I still had much to work on my speech which still was diffluent.  It felt good to be complimented on my achievements.

At the conference, a woman at the registration desk called me over to introduce me to a woman who was interested in meeting someone with a personal experience of autism.  Jean L. was eager to see and hear me to learn from my perspective of the disorder, especially since none of the presentations included any first-hand accounts of autism.  During the early eighties we still only knew a little about the puzzling disability and assumed that individuals with autism weren’t capable of giving speeches in front of a large audience.  Jean took me out to lunch to become more acquainted with me.

She was so impressed with what I had overcome with my disability, compared to what she already knew about the disorder that she wanted to hire me as a camp counselor for a few weeks later in that summer at a summer camp for children with autism.  The camp was directed by her, near where she lived in Rochester, New York.  This seemed like it would be a good experience for me to work with the kids and visits parts of the state I never had been.

The major catch was that, since I was receiving public assistance based on not being able to work, my aid could be jeopardized if I took a job and the state found out that I indeed was able to work.  Since the position was only temporary I didn’t want to take any chances of losing my benefits and not be able to get them again.  Though I couldn’t accept the job offer, it was encouraging that there was someone who respected and wanted to hire me.  This gave me a greater hope that I would be employable by somebody.  During our good-byes, Jean and I exchanged addresses and became pen pals for a while.

From Boston I was lucky to get a ride to Pennsylvania to visit my father by a friendly woman who lived in Delaware and had a son with autism.  I met her through Gail.  We left on a Saturday morning while the autism conference was continuing for its last day.  That didn’t matter to me as I had received as much as I wanted.  It was an all day drive from Massachusetts to Delaware where the driver lived.  We stopped at Irene’s house since she was too tired to continue further to my father’s place.  It was fun to spend the night at her house and meet her family and explore her neighborhood early in the morning before she drove me to Pennsylvania.  It felt good to share my experience with autism with people whom I met at the conference for them to learn.

 

While I had spent a little time with my father after the conference as an adult, I had become more aware of his challenges related to autism.  Besides his socially unaccepted habits of poor table manners and nose picking that I was aware of since my childhood, I had with a greater maturity discern the difficulty my father had in establishing and maintaining relationships.

Though he had dated several women, he wasn’t able to develop the seriousness that is necessary for getting remarried.  He tended to have poor conversational skills especially on topics that interested others and not him.  But, when the conversation was about his interests, he tended to talk excessively with too many details.  I also had the tendency to talk about unnecessary details and not enough on what interest others.  We both tended to interrupt others and not to give them a chance to finish talking.  With my increased knowledge and maturity, I had gained a greater appreciation of him.

From my father’s place I took a train from Philadelphia to Washington, D.C.  I realized that since I had been on my own for six months, it had become easier for me to relate to my family members on an adult level.  Since I engage in more activities and was out in the world rather than just staying home when not in school in an isolated existence, I had more things to talk about to my folks as I became more mature.  I still wasn’t very outgoing.

 

Shortly after I arrived back to Seattle, I had a series of tests done on me by the University Hospital affiliated with the University of Washington, which examined my brain and the rest of my body.  I took an intelligence test in which I did well in most areas and got the highest possible score in the visual area that involved rotating complex images in my head and being able to tell them apart.  But I had a greater difficulty with the verbal section where I needed a lot of time to think things thoroughly.

I had had another EEG done after years earlier during my early teens to see if my spaciness would show up as a petit mal seizure.  Again the results were normal.  I had thought that maybe when I spaced or tuned myself out and missed of what was said to me, that my brain went blank for a split second without realizing it as in a petit mal or minor seizure.  I knew that a high percentage of the autism population do have seizures.  Apparently what I had was lapse of paying attention that didn’t show up in electrical activity.  I received a scan of my brain through a machine that detected oxygen levels.  The results basically came out normal with slightly lower than average activity in the temporal lobe in the left side of my brain which is implicated in language including auditory processing.  I also had a recall of information test that I passed.  I was asked to retrieve a word or phrase from a half hour earlier.

I was given a complete physical with blood tests.  I asked the doctor to include glucose and uric acids levels to see where I stood on them, though the blood readings weren’t the most accurate form of assessment.  Since blood testing was the most convenient and was covered by my medical coupons, I went along with the tests.  I was most interested in those chemicals with my knowledge of how hypoglycemia and high uric acid levels could affect the brain and behavior.  The blood glucose count was a little bit on the low side and the blood uric acid was a little bit on the high side.   But, both factors were within the normal ranges.

In addition, I had allergy testing done with the skin scratch test out of curiosity of what all of the specific things that might cause a reaction.  During the pollen and mold seasons and when exposed to dusty areas and to tobacco smoke I felt congestion in my throat and sinuses.  But, fortunately what I had was very mild compared to severe reactions that were characteristic of classical hay fever.  I was tested for all sorts of air borne substances and foods which all came out negative.  The results suggested that I didn’t have true allergies.  Later on, I read that environmental sensitivity could be induced by nerves that mimic allergies.  But it could differ from them that involve the antigen-antibody complex.

 

During the autumn of 1981, I was enrolled in the Rehabilitative Medicine Program affiliated with the University of Washington that set up several job stations throughout the campus for individuals with disabilities to access their employment skills.  My placements were based on the inventory of my interests and skills.  I was assigned to two job stations, medical graphics and a library in the department of nursing.

For twelve weeks, I was placed in the medical illustrations unit in the health sciences making charts and grafts with rulers and typesetting.  Toward the end of my training I drew a few medical illustrations as tracings over previously done works, though I was capable of doing my own.  Since the program was considered training, I worked without pay a few hours in the mornings Monday through Friday.  I worked in a tiny room with my supervisor who was an older man nearing retirement.  He was very friendly and always complimented me in my work and invited me to the holiday party for the staff in the graphics department.  He even gave me a holiday gift that was a few fossils that he had collected.  I enjoyed the job very much and hoped that some day when there would be a job opening in the department that I would be hired there.

  During four weeks of my program, I was placed in a small library in the department of nursing to assist the librarian with several tasks such as filing and typing index cards.  After I had lunch I worked in the library in the afternoons.  I was assigned there since I had good organizational skills and a good memory for data that was very useful for this type of job.  I was at that workstation for a few weeks until they ran out of work for me to do.  That job was okay since my tasks were varied and the librarian and her aide were friendly women.  I enjoyed doing work in the graphics much more.  I didn’t mind the end of the job since I became free in the afternoons to do other things such as using the health sciences library and shopping.

 

When the program with the Department of Rehabilitative Medicine ended, I went to the Health Sciences Library all day, five days a week throughout the winter and most of spring of 1982.  I wanted to study as much scientific information on the brain as possible in hope of finding a cure for all of my autistic characteristics and for greater vitality in overall perfect health.  I read books and periodicals on medical and metabolic studies on the nervous system.  Whenever I finished a chapter or an article I took notes to help me retain the information longer though I hardly was able to retain anything for long.  I took a commuter bus, two blocks from my place to down town to make the connection to the university to arrive around nine o’clock in the morning.  I packed my own lunch and stayed in the library until three o’clock in the afternoon.  Often shortly after lunch I got so tired from trying to absorb so much information that I dozed off in a chair.

By the end of the day I hardly remember anything that I read due to sensory overload.  I had difficulty in keeping things straight since I was trying to deal with too much at once.  After a few months I analyzed how much information I had learned.  It wasn’t very much and I realized that I had spent too much time in the library and it wasn’t worth it.  Thereafter, I cut back on the number of days I went and limited myself to a few hours at a time.  I went to the library only when I was in the area for other things; job interviews, evening activities, and shopping at the Puget Consumers Co-op.

Even with frequent reviewing I tended to forget everything by the next day, especially since I couldn’t apply any of the facts though I was still hopeful that I would be employed in the biology field and work in a medical laboratory.  I applied for a few openings in entry positions in laboratory technology.  I thought that my course work in biology from University of Maryland would provide me enough of a background to get me a job.  I didn’t have any luck of getting hired. I wasn’t even called for an interview.

 

Even when I was discouraged of being turned down on job prospects, I always had had artistic talent to fall back on for my personal pursuits.  I was notified about an opportunity to show and sell my artwork.  One week in September of 1981, Monday through Friday, the Children’s Orthopedic Hospital of Seattle offered space in the lobby for people with disabilities to display their artwork.  I was able to participate since I was eligible and was provided with transportation.  I brought about a hundred prints from my college days and a few watercolors and paintings.  I was very elated that people in the lobby during their lunch hour were impressed with my drawings and purchased around thirty of them.

Joann, a young married woman who lived near me and drove me to the hospital, helped me to man the table.  She did volunteer work for the Autism Society.   She and her husband lived about two miles from me in White Center.  Since she loved my drawings and didn’t have much money she negotiated some bartering deals with me.  I traded a few of my matted prints for old things, such as clothing and camping gear.  I walked to her place a few times for our transactions.  She drove me home so I wouldn’t need to carry the things back.  I was thrilled to receive some sweatshirts, ski mittens, a mess-kit, and a day back pack without putting out any cash.  It was a lot easier to part with my artwork than money.  It was more difficult to earn a paycheck than to produce art.  Even though I didn’t need the clothes I didn’t want to pass up any opportunity to barter that didn’t happen often.

One day I responded to the ad from the Seattle Aquarium that needed volunteers and attended their orientation.  They wanted people to be guides for visitors, to prepare feedings for the water animals, and to do other miscellaneous things.  Since I had loved animals and biology I felt that being a volunteer for the aquarium where there was plenty of life to view and study might help me get my foot in the door for possible future job openings or open doors to other places with fields in biology.

Following the general meeting, each respondent was interviewed to access interests and abilities.  Because I lacked confidence in working well with people and had a speech impediment that was still painfully obvious I was assigned to a task behind the scenes organizing newspaper and magazine articles about the aquarium beginning with the planning and design drawings for construction through the dedication of its completion and its success.  It was still relatively new and had existed for only a few years.  As I organized the newspaper clippings into their chronological order I read them to learn the history of its inception and development that was what made the job as a journal aide enjoyable.  I did that for a few months during the spring of 1982 for a few days a week until everything was in order and my move.

 

Since I had such a difficult time in finding employment in anything in the scientific fields I switched my focus from science to human services.  People and employment agencies informed me that one of the greatest needs was in the chore services for those with disabilities as the turnover rate of workers tended to be relatively high.  Since I had dealt with a disability on a personal level I had an advantage in the field.  But, I was at a disadvantage of being without a car when the employer would need me to drive him or her.

I hooked up with an agency that specialized in services for those with challenges, the Resources for the Handicapped, based in Bothell, a community on the northern shore of Lake Washington.  Through that agency I was sent to a few job interviews for live-in attendant care for people with various physical disabilities.  I was turned down because they needed someone with a car and who could drive.

Finally in end of April of 1982, I got a job since seeking employment unsuccessfully for over a year.  I was hired to provide live-in chore services for an eighty-five-year-old woman who was hard of hearing.  Elva had broken her arm from a fall due to her unsteady gait and needed around the clock help.  She lived in an old one-bedroom house on a main road in Woodinville, a sprawling community that was about thirty miles northeast of Seattle.  I was interviewed by her daughter, Elma, who lived only about two miles away and helped out by running errands–taking the laundry and doing it at her house, shopping for groceries, and driving Elva to doctor appointments. 

Since Elma was available to do things that required use of a car, I was hired.  Without a bedroom, this live-in attendant position would be considered undesirable by most people who demanded having their own private space.  Another aspect that was less than desirable was that the bathroom, old fashioned with an old tub without a shower, was added on to the house with a door to the outside rather than to the inside.

Since Elva was practically deaf, even with wearing a hearing aide, she had difficulty in understanding me.  So, I devised some basic sign language to use in conjunction with talking.  For example, I counted my fingers and then pointed to the clock to tell her what time it was or when I would be back from a morning walk.  Sometimes I had a hard time in understanding her because of her pitch and quality of voice.  Occasionally, it was frustrating when we had difficulty in communicating to each other, but somehow we eventually managed to get the message across eventually.

I helped her with her hygiene needs including bathing and toileting.  I assisted her in getting up from a chair since that was difficult for her.  I cleaned her house.  I prepared meals and snacks for her that suited her standard American tastes and soft enough for her to chew with dentures.  For myself I prepared whole grains, beans, and salads.

Since I didn’t have my own room I slept on the davenport.  Whenever Elva needed to get up to use the bathroom, I helped her out of bed and supported her as she walked out the side door of the house and into the bathroom from outside.  She was prone to diarrhea.  Sometimes it was so uncontrollable that she didn’t make it to the bathroom.  One night when she had an accident on the bed that was very messy, I cleaned everything and put on fresh sheets even though I was tired and needed to go to Seattle the next morning.  Thereafter, I placed a bucket aside her bed to help prevent more accidents.

Even though I never complained about the unglamorous aspects of my job, it was quite an adjustment for me to make from giving up the freedom I had in coming and going as pleased.  I was nervous about it until I realized how temporary my job was and appreciated the benefits more, such as making my own money and staying in a nice area which was across the street from Cottage Lake.  Since I was committed to her, except for my planned time off, I wasn’t able to just take off for the day unless I arranged for Elma to come and help.  But, I was allowed to go out for walks in the morning for an hour or so after I helped her go to the bathroom.  She had no problem to remain seated watching TV while I was out and wouldn’t need assistance.

I jogged all over the area where there were many new developments with large homes on several-acre plots and a lot of new construction as Woodinville was growing very rapidly.  I enjoyed exploring the area.  I was grateful to be in such a nice neighborhood especially since I was confined with Elva most of the time.  It didn’t matter that bus service was limited since most of the time I couldn’t leave the area anyway.  There was a commuter bus that ran by the house and went to Seattle.  That was sufficient for going to Seattle and the Eastside on my days off for job interviews, recreational activities, and visiting Bob, Jean and her girls.  One Saturday when I went to my friend Laura’s good-bye party I had to walk four miles south to catch the nearest bus.

After Elva had her cast removed from her arm, she regained some of her independence.  She was able to get up from the chair and toilet herself.  Since I realized that she wouldn’t need me as much anymore and my job was about to end, I became more serious about finding a place to live and a job.  It felt nice that I was able to be out all morning for a long walk for miles when I didn’t need to worry about being back in time to assist her to the bathroom.  Working in chore services was a good learning experience in that it enabled me to develop better people skills and a greater sense of responsibility to broaden my horizons.  I felt that I learned so much during the six weeks in that job.