BUDDY

Buddy was my pal. Tall and stocky for his 6+ years. Tight black curls and smooth, sweet cheeks.

Utterly adorable. Profoundly uncommunicative.

We’d sit together for hours.

I’d read, he’d rock. I’d sing, he’d shriek. I’d try to hug him, he’d hug himself. Then rock.

I was a soon-to-be college grad, interning for six months with children who had neurodevelopmental disorders; delayed cognitive development and language skills, impaired social interaction and communication skills.

Buddy was unlike anyone I had ever met. Those first few weeks we spent together in the spring of 1986, he never responded to me. Frustrated and concerned, I began to dread walking into that clinic (that's code for I had no idea what I was doing).

Within a few short weeks, I perceived that labeling a child 'autistic' was synonymous with giving up on him. The profoundly autistic child would remain unreachable; lost in an unfocused world that the rest of us could not comprehend or alter.

Imagine my joy when - weeks into our ‘friendship’ - Buddy looked me in the eye for half a second. The very next visit, he held my gaze and did not look away.  

I smiled at him, he smiled back.  I stroked his arm. He let me.

Buddy was communicating! I rushed to find my supervisor and tell her the news of Buddy’s break-out.

“It’s sweet that you’re looking out for Buddy," Supervisor said.  "But the Fiddz will visit, and Buddy won’t look at them the way he looks at you. He’ll be labeled, and that will be that.”

I had no idea what Fiddz were, and I wasn’t about to broadcast my ignorance. Naïve and determined, I decided that hell might freeze over, but I was not going to let Buddy be labeled.

We worked hours, days, weeks, for our few precious moments of communication.  

The Fiddz arrived. Dressed in suits and significance, they moved quickly from room to room, carrying clipboards and sharpened pencils.  

When his time was finally up, Buddy was seated next to me. I leaned over and whispered, “That man with the brown beard is coming to say hi, Buddy! When he says hello to you, look him straight in the eye and say hello right back.”

Buddy squeezed my hand. He didn’t smile. Or speak. The psychologist talked to him, asked a few questions, then marked a sheet on his clipboard and disappeared.

Supervisor delivered the news. “This is not a reflection of your efforts,” she warned. “The doctor cannot possibly recreate in two minutes what we work months to achieve.”

“Then why don't you and your staff do the labeling?" I asked.

“Because the doctors have the PhDs.” (Fiddz!)

Buddy was transferred out of the clinic soon after that visit. I've never forgotten my frustration and dismay over that child's diagnosis.

I've never forgotten the touch of his small hand so tightly gripping mine.

1986: 1- 2 per 10,000 children in the US was diagnosed with autism.

Fast forward to 2012: 1 in 88 children in the US has autism or a related disorder. 

Among boys, the rate of autism spectrum disorders is now 1 in 54, almost five times that of girls, which is 1 in 252.

The estimates released today by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention represent an overall increase of 25 percent since the last analysis in 2006, and a near-doubling of the reported rate in 2002.

It's staggering.

Without question, the diagnostic spectrum is broader, and awareness is greater than ever before, accounting for about half the reported increase in diagnoses. Still, Mark Roithmayr, president of the research and advocacy group Autism Speaks has determined this is a "national emergency and it's time for a national strategy."

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Director Thomas Frieden agrees. "One thing the data tells us with certainty - there are many children and families who need help," he says.

Thankfully, being labeled "autistic" is now a ticket to receiving support, services and resources for an autistic child. In 2012, the National Institutes of Health will invest $169 million in autism research to improve screening and diagnosis, develop effective services and resources for families, identify potential risk factors in the environment that may cause the disorder, and test potential treatments.

It might be encouraging, if it wasn't so devastating.

I know, because I have another special buddy in my life.

Tall and strong for his 8+ years. Big brown eyes and smooth, sweet cheeks.

He climbs on my lap, content to cuddle. Occasionally he'll allow a sneaked kiss or two. His giggles delight, and he will joyfully march around the basement 47 times, pulling the red wagon and singing his favorite Wiggles' song. 

My little buddy's mom is my youngest sister.

If you're looking for a hero, she's your gal.

Fact: I've spent many years of motherhood feeling like a never-ending-on-call-doc in an inner city triage unit.

Fact: It's been a cake-walk compared to what I imagine Youngest Sis endures as she cares for her son and daughter every day.

The emotional and physical exhaustion that comes with parenting an autistic child; staying on top of his schooling, hospital, specialist and doctors' visits, therapies, paperwork, and insurance.

The schedule, meals, routines that must never be altered.

 The toll on relationships.

The nagging concern that a treatment or diagnosis may be missed in time to help.

The anger or heartache when her child is stared at or mocked for being different.

The energy and graciousness required to cheer on the successes of nieces, nephews, and friends' kids, even as she wonders if college, marriage, children and independence will ever be a possibility for her child.

The fear of what might happen to her son if she can no longer care for him.

Youngest Sis works day after day, striving to be positive, patient and grateful for the many blessings in her life.  She and her husband - equally devoted - rarely ask for help. Offers for  spa-day or date-night are turned down so they can remain a constant, loving and stable presence in their son's life.

She is the definition of Unconditional Love.

Judging by today's statistics from the CDC, there are millions of moms, husbands and kids just like my sister and her family.

They need our help. Our collective rally cry.

If you have a used IPAD, consider donating it to the special education department of your local school or an agency like Boces or Autistic Services that helps the disabled.

Support Autism Awareness in your community, with programs like Light it Up Blue on April 2nd.

Best of all, say something. 

An offer to run errands, play with siblings, or even kind words of support and encouragement mean the world to families whose demanding, and oftentimes disheartening work never lets up.

Statistics suggest that if you don't yet know someone struggling with an autistic child, you will in the near future.

Someone you might love like a sister.

And if you don't yet know a child with autism, you will in the near future.

He or she is a gift.

Just like my little buddies.

QUING Hereby Decrees: One woman's struggle is another's inspiration.

VULNERABLES

Vulnerables.

Child learning to ride a bike ventures off driveway onto road.

Elderly woman confined to wheel-chair, placed in skilled - but unsupervised - nursing care.

Prime-age men unable to find work, accepting positions that fail to utilize or reward their skills and experience.
 
Corporations under siege, investing 114 billion dollars in Cyber Security as of September, 2011.

Human Equals Vulnerable (yes, according to the Supreme Court, corporations are people).
  
So parents, government, educators, media, and special interest groups work to lessen or negate our vulnerabilities.

Knowledge is power. Teenagers are taught not to drive while texting or drinking. Families learn to stagger hospital visits in order to question and monitor the critical care of loved ones. Friends forward emails with tips on how to avoid identity theft, car-jacking, carbon monoxide poisoning, and gang attacks.

Lots of us Vulnerables also follow codes.

The Kid Code: Drilled into our children when bullying, a tragic incident, or accident involving a child occurs. Ramped up whenever a Jerry Sandusky dominates the news.

The Female Code: Drilled into our daughters/ourselves, creating a heightened state of awareness to keep women safe from predators and harm.

The Black Male Code: Passed down for generations, and now being shared in households all over the country since the death of Trayvon Martin.

Truth: I never heard of The Black Male Code until Jesse Washington, a reporter for The Associated Press, recently outlined it to his child. “Always pay close attention to your surroundings, son, especially if you are in an affluent neighborhood where black folks are few. Understand that even though you are not a criminal, some people might assume you are, especially if you are wearing certain clothes.

Never argue with police, but protect your dignity and take pride in humility. When confronted by someone with a badge or a gun, do not flee, fight, or put your hands anywhere other than up. Please don't assume that all white people view you as a threat, son. America is better than that. Suspicion and bitterness can imprison you. But as a black male, you must go above and beyond to show strangers what type of person you really are.”

Some moms also instruct their kids to keep their hands out of their pockets while shopping; and to keep their distance from whites, especially white women. Al Dotson Jr., chairman of the 100 Black Men of America organization, told his 14-year-old son that being African-American “… requires a sixth sense that not everyone needs to have."

Unless you are a Vulnerable.

Fact: Young/old, female/male, black/white, rich/poor, gay/straight, religious/non-religious, most of us are Vulnerables.

Select an ethnic group.  A nation. A sports team/band/celebrity. Vulnerables, all.

If being human means being vulnerable, how many 'codes' must there be?

These codes, along with experience and knowledge can surely make us less vulnerable. But they can’t make us invincible.

Only The Better Angels of Our Nature can. 

I lifted that term from Harvard experimental psychologist, Steven Pinker, who refers to "Empathy, self-control, a sense of fairness, reason, and rationality” as the segments of human nature that steer us from violence.

Methinks they also steer us toward respect, compassion, kindness, and a willingness to care for the individuals we encounter on life’s journey.

Consider The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, a story depicting a government-run competition where 24 randomly selected youths must fight to the death, leaving one live victor.

To watch the film is to sit through a two-hour Vulnerability-Fest. It's disturbing, excruciating, compelling.

Tribute who is most vulnerable dies first. Tribute who is trained, knowledgeable or skilled survives another day to kill or be killed.

Ultimately, survival is assured when Tribute protects - and accepts protection -  from another, when one is willing to die in order to spare another’s life.

The story is quite literally a tribute to I’ve got your back, You've got mine - a practice that, when practiced (and witnessed) turns Vulnerables into Invincibles.

The world may never know what happened to Trayvon Martin in the moments before his death. George Zimmerman, the man who ended Martin’s life, said he felt threatened by the seventeen year-old. By his own account, Zimmerman stoked this vulnerability. Working alone, he stepped out of his SUV to follow Martin- a  youth he deemed a suspicious person - on foot, even though a 911 dispatcher said it wasn’t necessary to follow him.

Human error led to vulnerability. To tragedy.  To outrage.

And outrageousness.

When asked about Trayvon Martin’s death, President Obama responded, "When I think about this boy, I think about my own kids... every parent in America should be able to understand why it is absolutely imperative that we investigate every aspect of this. And that everybody pull together."

Obama continued, “If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon.”

Newt Gingrich deemed the remarks “disgraceful”: “Is the president suggesting that, if it had been a white who'd been shot, that would be OK, because it wouldn't look like him?”

Rick Santorum suggested that Obama “not use these types of horrible tragic individual cases to try to drive a wedge in America.”

Rewind to January 2011.

Nine year-old Christina Taylor Green is shot and killed while waiting to meet her congresswoman. Speaking at a public memorial service in Tucson, President Obama remarked, “…in Christina we see all of our children. So curious, so trusting, so energetic and full of magic. So deserving of our love. And so deserving of our good example.”

Obama continued: “…we must examine all the facts behind this tragedy... We should be willing to challenge old assumptions in order to lessen the prospects of violence in the future. I believe we can be better….We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another is entirely up to us. I believe that for all our imperfections, we are full of decency and goodness, and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us. That's what I believe, in part because that's what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed. “

In referring to both Trayvon and Christina, Obama called out The Better Angels of Our Nature - encouraging all of us to challenge ingrained assumptions, and treat each other as we wish to be treated.

To judge a person's heart and mind, rather than his race, religion, ethnicity, lifestyle.

Call it Hunger Games circa 2012 where the plot line is: World Hungers for Kindness, Decency, and Justice.

Better yet, call it The Better Angels Code:  I've got your back. We're Invincibles so long as you've got mine.


QUING Hereby Decrees: Rodney King may have said it best; "People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along?"

HUNDRED

Spring in Central Park

100 days.

100 posts.

If I was in elementary school, I’d celebrate by collecting 100 shells or buttons or jelly beans.

But as I write Blog Post #100, I celebrate Y-O-U.

I’m toasting you, as we speak.  

With one hundred sips of Chianti.

In early November, three of you shared a Quing post with a friend, and dozens began reading. 

A hundred bits of commentary, silliness, and sentiment have had thousands of views over the course of four months.

So thank you for clicking on Quing!

Even though I post at 3 AM.  Or 4 PM.  Or ?

Even though there are nine zillion bits of information, gossip and merriment vying for your attention.

Some of you have asked questions, made comments, or offered suggestions these past few months. I LOVE when you take the time to do that!

Below, a few favorites to share with you.

QUESTIONS.

Q: “Why do you stay up so late?” No noise. No chauffeuring. No distractions.  Peace – unless the topic I write about is annoying.

Q: “Do you still like your husband?  Does your husband read what you write?” 99.36247% of the time.  And only if I insist.

Q: “Are you a control freak?” Not the tiniest bit.

Q: “How can you write so much every day? How long does it take to write a blog post?” I view it like training for a marathon, but instead I’m gearing up to write a new novel.  Posts can take an hour to write, or a day, depending how much or little I know about the subject.    

Q: “Do you ever lose it in front of your kids?” NEVER. Unless I am watching hockey or football. And the officiating stinks. Wait, is there officiating in hockey?  Do guys really get paid for that?

Q:  “Are you really a Swamp Mom? No overprotecting or micro-managing?” Overprotective? 

Only with my firstborn. (Thirdborn will laugh when he reads this. He just saw a commercial for a new TV show where a child is abducted and the mom violently hunts down the kidnappers- “That would be you, Mom,” he said.  He’s right.)

Q: “Most of the time you’re exaggerating, right?”  Unless I’m being serious.

Q: “In politics do you lean left or right?” Yes.  Toward Reasonable, Rational and Willing to 

Compromise.  

Q:  “Pet peeves?” When pet pees. Or worse. In the house. While a child is sitting across the room from him.

Q: “Do you ever wish you had a blog post back?” I wrote yesterday’s post in the wee hours of the morning, published it, and then stewed about the ending till dawn. I rewrote the last few lines the moment kids left for school –after 70 plus readers had already viewed them.  Sigh. Writers need editors. They keep us honest, and make our work so much better.

Q: “Do you get paid to write Quing?” Only if readers click on the ads that run alongside each post.  Many thanks for reading and clicking! 

SUGGESTIONS.

A ‘Favorites’ page for new readers to check out old posts. Love it! Will make that happen asap.

Lots of readers have asked if I can reproduce Quotable Quingisms on ‘stuff’.  Will look into that. So happy you asked!

Recipe lovers want recipes organized by categories. Should have thought of that! Will do.

Many suggest that I post at the same time every day. Like early morning.  I will TRY!

COMMENTS.

Your thoughts are insightful, funny, interesting, and much appreciated!  If you’d like to write your own Quing post and Decree, let me know.  I’d LOVE to include weekly commentary from other writers, aka Quing-for-a-Day!

Beginning next week, as I jump from research to novel writing, I plan to publish Quing posts three times a week, rather than five. 

I so hope you’ll keep reading, and sharing Quing with friends, family and colleagues who might enjoy it, too.

The more the merrier as we Party at the Palace! Cheers!

BAIL

A 46-year-old woman is facing aggravated battery charges for allegedly stabbing a man during a heated argument.

According to a Palm Beach County Sheriff's deputy, the 56-year-old victim said he had been arguing with the woman about food. She was drinking a beer, and started throwing food out the door, because she was “sick” of cooking for him.

The victim threatened to cut "her pony tail off if she didn't stop throwing things."

So she picked up a kitchen knife, cut the phone line of the home, and stabbed the man in the left hand.

According to jail records, Our-Lady-of-Losing-It is being held at the Palm Beach County Jail “without bond.”

No bond.

No bail.

Instead, a question. 

If OLLI had no bond with Hair Clipper Cad, why didn’t she bail?

Lots of women who raised their kids and now find themselves imagining decades of wifely dutying - with a guy they view as more Dudly than Studly - are deciding they want out of their marriages.

Not OLLI.

Rather than tossing the dog out the door, she tossed the food. 

And protected her ponytail with a piercing that would make Sweeney Todd proud.

OLLI should have cooked up more creative ways to deal with her love bug.

That’s what I do.

Rewind to Blissfully Married Years 1-15.

Frustration happened. I didn't want to nag, or back Husband into a corner, triggering a defensive outburst.

So I engaged the Triple C System: Calm down. Choose appropriate words. Constructively communicate.
 
I’d say things like, "I think the cereal will stay fresher in the bag if you close it with a twist tie."  

Or "It would be really helpful if you’d drop the empty Sam Adams’ bottles and caps in the recycled bin. I’ll move it next to the counter."

Is P-a-s-s-i-v-e-a-g-r-e-s-s-i-v-e one word?

  
Fast forward to Blissfully Married Years 15-19 3/4.

The Triple C System was replaced by the Double Z System.

Zero-to Defcon 5 in a zip.

 
I say things like, "Oh, look. The Honey Nuts are ripening on the counter again. Stale, lucky them!"

Or "If I find one more beer cap in the utensil drawer, I’ll hot glue it to your putter."

Surely Husband wonders when his bride morphed from sweet to sarcastic.

If his bride still had anything remotely resembling a memory, she’d trace it back to the day she realized that the Triple C System is for toddlers and teenagers.

Not husbands.

OLLI and Hair Clipper Cad’s unfortunate adventure has made this old bride determined to steer clear of knives - and sarcasm - whenever I trip over a pile of dirty towels, or spot a cereal bowl and spoon on the toast-crumbed-and-jammed table.  

I will not use weapons or words to wound.

I’ll get creative.

1^st offense: Smile at that puppy dog "What’d I do? Why are you mad at me? I don't get it!" tilt of head and expression on Husband’s face. Then scoot him outside the back door for a few minutes - just like I do with the puppy.

2^nd offense: Store the TV remotes with the house-cleaning supplies. Husband will never know where to find them.

3^rd offense:  Drag IPAD, golf clubs, or flat screen TV (Husband’s choice) to the curb a half hour before our neighborhood’s 93 year-old treasure seeker begins his weekly rummaging through the recycling.  

Last resort?

Trade in the Double Z system for the simpler, more effective L-Quad System: Listen to me. Look out for me. Laugh with me. Love me.

It's employed by happily married couples all over the world. 

Couples who keep their bond, and never bail.

Even though they get sick of cooking.

QUING Hereby Decrees: Husband is a patient man. With a very good sense of humor.

SCORE

She is 6-foot-5.

Top college recruit of 2008.

Selected by the University of Connecticut to be the star on a team of elite basketball players.

48 hours after she arrived on campus, Elena Delle Donne packed her bags and moved back to Delaware to attend the university 20 minutes away from her home.

Elena missed her sister.

Most siblings stay in touch with a sister or brother off at college via Skype or Facebook; by chatting on the phone or texting each other.

But when Elena arrived in Connecticut, she was no longer able to communicate with her older sister Lizzie.

Born with cerebral palsy, Lizzie is blind and deaf.  Elena and Lizzie communicate with each other - sharing their love and their lives - through physical contact.

“She knows me by my smell and my feel, so, physically, physical contact is the only thing she knows,” Della Donne says. “So when I did leave, I lost Lizzie basically. Well, she lost me and I wasn’t OK with that when I left.”

Back in Delaware for her freshman year, Elena ditched basketball for volleyball. Sophomore year, she returned to the sport she adored.

“I love everything that is involved in this sport,” she said. “It’s just a lot of fun. And when I stopped enjoying it, I stepped away from the game because I wasn’t going to do something that wasn’t for me. Now I play it for the passion and love of the game.”

That passion and love has translated into a season where Elena, a junior, leads the nation in scoring. She’s averaged 27.5 points a game, and scored 39 points in a NCAA tournament game this past weekend - leading The University of Delaware women’s basketball team to victory for the first time in the school’s history.

The team’s record this year? 31-1.

Author Alexandra Ludka interviewed Della Donne, penning quote after quote that ought to be copied and tacked on bulletin boards in every home and locker room across this country.

On Lizzie’s constant inspiration on the basketball court:

“I have a tattoo right on my rib and it says ‘Lizzie’ and is inside angel wings,” Della Donne said. “And during the games, I even tap my side right before the game or when the game gets tough just to know Lizzie is out here with me to keep fighting.”

On life lessons learned from Lizzie:

“She teaches me that you just fight no matter what,” Della Donne said. “And on the court when things aren’t going our way, you just never give up and that’s something I’ll never do and you’ll never see me put my head down and give up.”

“I would watch her struggle and I would watch her persevere through her struggles and that was something that always helps me put my life in perspective,” she said. “She overcomes battles that I will never face and thank God I will never face those, because I’m nowhere near as strong as Lizzie. And only someone like Lizzie can get through those battles.”

On sacrificing opportunity for family:

“They’re definitely my rocks and when I went away from my rocks, I realized that it wasn’t the right thing,” she said. “I wasn’t going to be happy if I was separated from my family.” 

On being famous for making an exceptional choice, rather than for being blessed with exceptional talent and skill: 

“It’s the poem ‘The Road Not Taken.’ And that’s kind of my theme here,” Della Donne said. “And that poem really means a lot to me and my family. And this really has been the road not taken. And it’s been incredible.”

Team basketball with March, and you’re supposed to get madness. 

Instead, basketball and March have given us the team of Elena and Lizzie; sisters who give their all each day, competing in the grueling, exhausting, and exhilarating game of life.

Heroes, who look to - and lean on - family as they work to rise above every challenge.

Their story feels like sunshine and 80 degrees trading places with cold, raw, and blustery on a mid-March day. 

Spectacular.  

 

ILLUMINATING

Neuroscience, I adore you.

Your brain scans lit up to show us what happens to the human brain as gal or guy reads a work of fiction.

Discoveries that made my day.

 

Fact: narratives full of descriptive writing, compelling figures of speech, and emotional dialogue between characters both stimulate our brains, and alter our behavior.

We understood that language regions in the brain are activated as we read and interpret written words.

But now brain scans are telling us that stories fire up other sections of our brains; sections distinct from language-processing areas.

Read a word like “lilac” or “smoke”, and the primary olfactory cortex comes alive.

Consider metaphors with a tactile component - “That child’s a rough, uncluttered canvas, awaiting brush strokes and color” - and the sensory cortex is activated.

Read about motion -“She tiptoed through the puddle” - and the part of the motor cortex that coordinates the body’s leg movements is triggered.

Neuroscience, I'm in awe of you.

You and your brain scans informed us that the same neurological regions in our brains are stimulated whether we are reading about a particular experience, or living through it.

You have determined that the act of reading really can make us humans feel stimulated and alive.

Especially if we’re reading fiction.

In Your Brain on Fiction, author Annie Murphy Paul details how Keith Oatley, a cognitive psychologist and novelist, believes “reading produces a vivid simulation of reality, one that ‘runs on minds of readers just as computer simulations run on computers.’”

Sensory details, figures of speech, dialogue, and descriptions of people and their actions in works of fiction not only replicate reality, they bring a reader beyond reality, into a character’s thoughts and feelings. Paul writes, “The novel, of course, is an unequaled medium for the exploration of human social and emotional life. And there is evidence that just as the brain responds to depictions of smells and textures and movements as if they were the real thing, so it treats the interactions among fictional characters as something like real-life social encounters.”

Neuroscience, I thank you.

You and your brain scans taught us that the brain networks we use to understand stories are the same brain networks we use to process our interactions with others; especially when we’re trying to figure out thoughts and feelings.

According to Paul, “Scientists call this capacity of the brain to construct a map of other people’s intentions ‘theory of mind.’ Narratives offer a unique opportunity to engage this capacity, as we identify with characters’ longings and frustrations, guess at their hidden motives and track their encounters with friends and enemies, neighbors and lovers.”

Makes perfect sense that those who read lots of great fiction are more understanding and empathetic toward others, and better able view the world from different perspectives. Even pre-schoolers who have more stories read to them are better able to understand other people’s intentions.

Fiction, Dr. Oatley notes, “is a particularly useful simulation because negotiating the social world effectively is extremely tricky, requiring us to weigh up myriad interacting instances of cause and effect. Just as computer simulations can help us get to grips with complex problems such as flying a plane or forecasting the weather, so novels, stories and dramas can help us understand the complexities of social life.”

Neuroscience, you and your brain scans are illuminating.

Reading great literature improves our minds, our characters, our insights and actions.


QUING Hereby Decrees: Readers, rejoice. Read more. Writers, rejoice. Write better.