Re: A Last Gift from Alix

[Guest guest]

In a message dated 5/2/03 8:22:03 PM Eastern Daylight Time,

bunnytiner@... writes:

> A small thing to an NT child but a big thing to Putter. And I thank my

> sister and her trampoline.

>

> Salli

>

>

thank you for sharing the lovely story.

The Grammas & Keion

[Guest guest]

Salli,

That brought tears to my eyes ... that happens very rarely when I read

things. Thank you for sharing the gift with all of us.

Debbie with twins

- Jordan (ASD) 2.5yo

- (NT) 2.5yo

[Guest guest]

Salli,

A beautiful a hearttugging story. Alix sounds like such a wonderful person

to have known.

Sue

[Guest guest]

Salli this story is so beautiful!!!!!!! You made me cry. Alix was a

really special sister and the perfect aunt.

Cecilia

A Last Gift from Alix

> My sister Alix insisted that she be known to her nieces and nephews

despite the many miles that separated her from all of them. She had my

brother's daughters to stay with her every summer for years; she had my

other sister's son live with her in summers while he worked in

restaurants

in NYC until he was practically a big brother to her two children. My

children were harder. Lou did not like me to associate much with my

family

and he discouraged holiday visits partly by creating a rich family

tradition

in our own house (which I do not regret).

>

> So Alix had to use other ways. She wrote letters to my children

(those

who could read) and she sent the most marvelous gifts. " Oh, " my

children

would say, " That is from Aunt Alix and Uncle Dick! " Seldom was her

choice a

failure.

>

> I talked to her when I first worried about Putter having autism. I

made

the case for and against, and she interrupted me to say, " But what do

you

really think? You know, I would think. " And I did. She sent me the

first

book I ever read on autism, and I opened its pages with a chilled heart

and

read the DSM-IV definition of autism, telling myself that it could not

possibly apply, and then I quickly closed it and said, " But he is so

affectionate... "

>

> She visited us for the last time when Putter was three and a half and,

before she ever even entered my house, she sat down on the swing outside

on

a bright and shiny autumn day and she played with Putter making patterns

in

the dirt with her feet and somehow persuading this distant and avoidant

child to interact with her as he laughed and messed her patterns up (I

have

those shoes to this day, and I remember that day every time I see them.)

>

> That day she told me that she could tell that something was wrong for

his

eyes were blank when he wasn't laughing.

>

> For Christmas that year she sent Putter a mini trampoline. I do not

know

how she knew that this was a near perfect gift for a small child with

autism

(as well as being a near perfect gift for the parent of a small child

with

autism), but I imagine she read and researched and thought about it in

these

her last living months for that was always her way.

>

> Putter adored the trampoline. It has had a very hard three and a half

years of use. I have taken good care of it as I have of all the things

that

she has given me; her roses on my front lawn, her clothes that I have

worn a

bit too long (I looked a little ragged in her turtlenecks this winter; I

think it will be their last, but I looked so nice the first winter after

her

death). On the trampoline, I notice when the threads on the webbing

begin

to tear and I sit and sew them back on securely with carpet thread and a

big

needle. I hate sewing. It makes my nose itch, and I hate the peering

and I

hate the pricks I always get with the needle. But I did not want to

replace

THIS trampoline.

>

> Last night, as Putter and Robbie were bouncing from the slide to the

trampoline to the ballpit, I noticed that the webbing was starting to

tear.

And I shouted at Putter and Robbie to get off, " It's broken! " I said, " I

will fix it! "

>

> Not so long ago, I wouldn't have bothered shouting at Putter. It

would

have had no effect and so I would have physically removed him and hidden

the

trampoline somewhere in the basement. This year, O Blessed GIft of

Receptive Language, Putter got off the trampoline. He covered his ears

and

hummed a second, but he understood and he obeyed. And he stayed off the

trampoline.

>

> Until this afternoon. It was apparent that he had simply forgotten

for he

got off again immediately. I sighed. I was annoyed that I had

forgotten to

sew the webbing while Putter was in school. Not so long ago it would

have

been impossible to sew the webbing with Putter around. He would have

shouted

and cried and tried to set the trampoline upright. But today he asked a

question of a sort that Putter has never asked before. At this point in

time, Putter asks only " Where " questions, and only about things that he

has

lost, like the " Where is Dartie? " that he asked of me a few minutes ago

when

he wanted to cuddle his favorite cat, or the " Where is submarine? " that

he

asked last night and I could not understand him and so he had to write

it

down for me. But today, as I was sewing he came up to me and said in

his

oddly inflected speech, " Is it broken? " It took me a minute to register

what he had said, such a NORMAL thing to say, and then, though my mouth

at

first fell slightly open

>

> A small thing to an NT child but a big thing to Putter. And I thank

my

sister and her trampoline.

>

> Salli

>

>

[Guest guest]

Wow. Such a bittersweet moment for you. ((hugs))

[Guest guest]

sniff sniff. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Hugs,

[Guest guest]

Salli, what a beautiful story! You have such a gift for writing! WTG Putter! and

if we could all be blessed to know a " Alix " in our lives.

Question..Is it common for an Autistic child to be able to write but not speak?

I am still learning lol

Warm Regards

& ASD 11/25/00 in Maine

A Last Gift from Alix

My sister Alix insisted that she be known to her nieces and nephews despite

the many miles that separated her from all of them. She had my brother's

daughters to stay with her every summer for years; she had my other sister's son

live with her in summers while he worked in restaurants in NYC until he was

practically a big brother to her two children. My children were harder. Lou

did not like me to associate much with my family and he discouraged holiday

visits partly by creating a rich family tradition in our own house (which I do

not regret).

So Alix had to use other ways. She wrote letters to my children (those who

could read) and she sent the most marvelous gifts. " Oh, " my children would say,

" That is from Aunt Alix and Uncle Dick! " Seldom was her choice a failure.

I talked to her when I first worried about Putter having autism. I made the

case for and against, and she interrupted me to say, " But what do you really

think? You know, I would think. " And I did. She sent me the first book I ever

read on autism, and I opened its pages with a chilled heart and read the DSM-IV

definition of autism, telling myself that it could not possibly apply, and then

I quickly closed it and said, " But he is so affectionate... "

She visited us for the last time when Putter was three and a half and, before

she ever even entered my house, she sat down on the swing outside on a bright

and shiny autumn day and she played with Putter making patterns in the dirt with

her feet and somehow persuading this distant and avoidant child to interact with

her as he laughed and messed her patterns up (I have those shoes to this day,

and I remember that day every time I see them.)

That day she told me that she could tell that something was wrong for his eyes

were blank when he wasn't laughing.

For Christmas that year she sent Putter a mini trampoline. I do not know how

she knew that this was a near perfect gift for a small child with autism (as

well as being a near perfect gift for the parent of a small child with autism),

but I imagine she read and researched and thought about it in these her last

living months for that was always her way.

Putter adored the trampoline. It has had a very hard three and a half years

of use. I have taken good care of it as I have of all the things that she has

given me; her roses on my front lawn, her clothes that I have worn a bit too

long (I looked a little ragged in her turtlenecks this winter; I think it will

be their last, but I looked so nice the first winter after her death). On the

trampoline, I notice when the threads on the webbing begin to tear and I sit and

sew them back on securely with carpet thread and a big needle. I hate sewing.

It makes my nose itch, and I hate the peering and I hate the pricks I always get

with the needle. But I did not want to replace THIS trampoline.

Last night, as Putter and Robbie were bouncing from the slide to the

trampoline to the ballpit, I noticed that the webbing was starting to tear. And

I shouted at Putter and Robbie to get off, " It's broken! " I said, " I will fix

it! "

Not so long ago, I wouldn't have bothered shouting at Putter. It would have

had no effect and so I would have physically removed him and hidden the

trampoline somewhere in the basement. This year, O Blessed GIft of Receptive

Language, Putter got off the trampoline. He covered his ears and hummed a

second, but he understood and he obeyed. And he stayed off the trampoline.

Until this afternoon. It was apparent that he had simply forgotten for he got

off again immediately. I sighed. I was annoyed that I had forgotten to sew the

webbing while Putter was in school. Not so long ago it would have been

impossible to sew the webbing with Putter around. He would have shouted and

cried and tried to set the trampoline upright. But today he asked a question of

a sort that Putter has never asked before. At this point in time, Putter asks

only " Where " questions, and only about things that he has lost, like the " Where

is Dartie? " that he asked of me a few minutes ago when he wanted to cuddle his

favorite cat, or the " Where is submarine? " that he asked last night and I could

not understand him and so he had to write it down for me. But today, as I was

sewing he came up to me and said in his oddly inflected speech, " Is it broken? "

It took me a minute to register what he ha! d said, such a NORMAL thing to say,

and then, though my mouth at first fell slightly open with surprise, I calmly

tried to answer him, " Yes, but I am fixing it. " And he was satisfied and went

off to play.

A small thing to an NT child but a big thing to Putter. And I thank my sister

and her trampoline.

Salli

[Guest guest]

> Question..Is it common for an Autistic child to be able to write but not

speak? I am still learning lol

>

>

Well, now Putter CAN talk. He is just quite hard to understand, partly due

to his general apraxia issues and partly due to the fact that his speech is

oddly inflected. He just sounds weird.

And I certainly would not want to go to writing instead of talking but there

is no doubt that writing is easier for him.

However, I know that there are kids with autism who have virtually no speech

but can write, some can write very well indeed. And for a substantial

number reading and writing is easier than speaking. For Putter reading was

the ticket to language.

Salli

[Guest guest]

>>Well, now Putter CAN talk<< I am sorry Salli, bad choice of words on my

behalf. I really might, can their writing skills be ahead of their verb skills.

Sorry I hope I did not offend you or Putter.

sincerely

Re: A Last Gift from Alix

> Question..Is it common for an Autistic child to be able to write but not

speak? I am still learning lol

>

>

Well, now Putter CAN talk. He is just quite hard to understand, partly due

to his general apraxia issues and partly due to the fact that his speech is

oddly inflected. He just sounds weird.

And I certainly would not want to go to writing instead of talking but there

is no doubt that writing is easier for him.

However, I know that there are kids with autism who have virtually no speech

but can write, some can write very well indeed. And for a substantial

number reading and writing is easier than speaking. For Putter reading was

the ticket to language.

Salli