What you talkin' 'bout?

R.I.P. :(

It aint easy

Last Sunday, in the course of a few hours, I experienced the highs and lows of dealing with my son Michael's unique brain.

I've mentioned this before, but in case you didn't know, Michael has been diagnosed with being on the Autism spectrum. It's not a severe case of Autism. He's very high functioning, so a lot of people might not even notice, but as a parent, you can't help but notice - and worry about it.

As a parent, you can't help but notice how different his brain works. Yes, different - definitely different. A few months ago, I watched an HBO movie about an Autistic woman named Temple Grandin. Throughout the movie, Temple's mother would remind her that she was "different - not less". That's certainly true of Michael - his brain is "different" in many wonderful ways, but I also know that we live in a world where people who are "different" are not always accepted. There are times when Michael really amazes me, but there are also times when I'm terrified about the prospect of him getting by in the world. He's going to have trouble adjusting to certain situations. He's inevitably going to be teased. There are inevitably going to be moments when he winds up crying. As a parent, thinking about those moments hurts me to the core.

Anyway, back to Sunday and Michael "unique" brain.

I don't want to perpetuate the "Rain Man"/savant stereotype about Autistic people too much, but those of you who have heard me talk ( brag ) about Michael already know that he has a remarkable analytic mind. All modesty aside, I always considered myself to be really good at Math/Physics, but Michael has natural ability way beyond anything I've ever possessed. While we were playing in the backyard on Sunday, I noticed he was picking up balls of different sizes and dropping them side-by-side ( basically, doing the Galileo Leaning Tower of Pisa Experiment ). I walked over, and Michael asked me a question about potential energy. Given his curiosity, I decided that the time was right to introduce Michael to the concepts of kinetic energy and conservation of energy.

So, I go ahead and explain potential energy, kinetic energy, and conservation of energy ( I tell him all about mgh and one-half m v-squared ), and I illustrate the concept with an example.

I tell Michael that a roller coaster with a 100 foot drop reaches a speed of 50 miles-per-hour ( mph ) at the bottom of the hill ( BTW, the way, I'm ignoring all friction and air resistance in these examples. You may think think that this is over-simplifying things a bit, - but hey - he's only 6 years old! ). I tell him that in order for the roller coaster to go 100 mph at the bottom of the hill, the hill would need to be 400 feet high. I explain that this is because a roller coaster car going 100 mph has 4 times the kinetic energy as a roller coaster car going 50 mph ( because of the velocity-squared relationship ), and that because all the kinetic energy would have been converted from the potential energy at the top of the hill ( remember - no friction ), the hill would need to be 4 times as high to produce the speed of 100 mph ( because potential energy is directly proportional to height ).

Of course, you would think this would be an awful lot to digest for a 6-year old. To be honest, I really didn't think he would understand all of this on the first try, so I gave him a problem to gauge how well he understood the concept. I asked Michael how fast the roller coaster would go at the bottom of the hill if the hill was 900 feet high.

About 5 seconds later Michael told me the roller coaster would be going 150 mph at the bottom of the hill.

I was stunned, and asked him to explain how he arrived at the answer, just to make sure it wasn't just a lucky guess.

Michael quickly explained that 900 is 9 times as great at 100, the square root of 9 is 3, and that 3 times 50 is 150.

Wow, you can't imagine how proud I was at that moment.

It's nice to have those proud moments, because it makes some of the other moments a little bit easier to take.

A few hours later, we were in the house, and Michael was playing a video game on the laptop. At some point the game crashed, and a few seconds later, so did Michael's brain.

I don't think "tantrum" is a strong enough word for what happened. I know tantrums. I threw my share of tantrums as a child ( like the BATMAN tantrum - see item 4 in this post ), and watched my younger brother throw lots of tantrums. What happened with Michael on Sunday, was not simply a tantrum - it was a scary example of what can sometimes be so "unique" about his brain.

The best word I can think of to describe it is "irrational". Of course, 6-year olds can be irrational in general, but Michael's behavior would have been considered irrational for a 3-year-old.

...

I've been sitting here for a few minutes trying to decide how to describe this, but in all honesty, words escape me right now. It kinda reminded me of one of the night terrors Michael used to have when he was younger. There was a lot of physical thrashing involved, there was really nothing we could do or say to console him, and he most definitely did not want to be touched. It's rather heartbreaking when you want to hug your crying child, and he responds by kicking at you and swinging his arm at you. When he has tantrums like this, we actually get quite afraid that he might hurt himself. Once when he was 3, he had a tantrum like this, and intentionally ran headfirst into a wall. I know it was intentional, because about 30 seconds after he did it the first time, he wrenched himself out of my arms and ran headfirst into the wall again before I could stop him ( After that, I just laid my whole body down on top of him to keep him in one spot. He spent the next 30 minutes struggling to get out from under me, until he finally exhausted himself and fell asleep. ).

Thankfully, his tantrum on Sunday wasn't that bad ( he's come a long way in the last 3 years ), but it still scared me a lot nonetheless. Not only did he not want to be touched, but he wanted to get "far far away" ( his words ) from us. The next thing we knew, he was running out of the front door of our house. I ran out after him, terrified about what he might do to himself. He had stopped about 10 feet from our front steps. I walked towards him slowly, hoping to grab him before he started to run away again, He backpedaled into driveway, and next thing I knew, he started sprinting down the driveway towards the street. I sprinted as fast as my balky knee would take me ( the knee is still all "spongy" from my personal-best run ) and screamed out "STOP! DON'T YOU DARE RUN INTO THE STREET!" so loud that I think the entire neighborhood heard me. Michael did stop, and before he could move again, I grabbed him. Of course, he didn't want to go down without a fight, but despite his kicking and screaming, I soon had him back in the house. He still insisted on being "far way" from us, but we convinced him that his room far enough away. Thankfully, he managed to calm himself down, and 30 minutes later he was back to being the happy boy that he usually is.

So, yeah - it an't easy. I love my boys, but it's never easy

Rich

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown

Last Friday, while checking news articles during lunch, I noticed a story about Wrigley Field. The content of that article really isn't relevant to this post, but what is relevant is that the article got me thinking about the North Side of Chicago ( where Wrigley Field is located - I took a road trip there 11 years ago ). Thinking about the North Side of Chicago got me thinking about the South Side of Chicago, which immediately made the song "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" start playing in my head ( The song starts with the lines "The South Side of Chicago / is the baddest part of town. / And if you go there / you better just beware / of a man named Leroy Brown. " ).



"Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" is one of those songs the will always be ingrained in my memory, because I probably listened to it about 100 times in the backseat of the family car when I was a young child. My parents were both born in the 40's ( Dad in 1943 and Mom in 1947 ), and as such, they were among the first generation of parents to really pass Rock n' Roll music down to their kids. My parents pretty much always had the radio on when they drove, and it was always playing the most popular music of the day ( Actually, whether my Mom or Dad was driving, I think my Mom pretty much controlled the radio. Back in the 60's my Mom was one of these screaming teenage girls you would see at Beatles concerts ( She was at one of the Beatles groundbreaking Shea Stadium concerts ) ).

I think there's something special about the memories we develop as a young child. We see the world differently as children, so reflecting on those memories gives us a perspective other memories can't. I think that music makes special memories too. I think almost all of us have our own personal "soundtrack of our lives". We all have memories of special songs which we associate with key moments in our lives. So, with that in mind, I think there's something extra special about the music we associate with our childhood. After thinking a bit about "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown", I started to reflect upon the songs that really caught my attention when I would listen to music in the back seat of my parents' car in the early to mid 70's. I quickly jotted down the first 10 songs that came to my mind. Those 10 songs ( in no particular order ) are ...

American Pie

I said this list would be in no particular order, but I decided to list Don McLean's "America Pie" first, because when I was three years old, I considered this to be my favorite song. I think there's something about the lyrical richness of this song that would enchant just about any small child. Listening to this song was almost like listening to a bedtime story. It was a story I really enjoyed, despite that fact that I had no idea what a levee was, and the song always made me wonder how somebody could possibly drink rye bread.



Saturday in the Park

This may be the best feel-good song of all time. The lyrics by themselves are really feel-good, the music puts you in a good mood as soon as your hear the first few piano notes, and I dare anyone not to crack a smile when the first brass notes play at the 18 second mark. This song ( understandably enough ) seems to be a staple these days at Saturday afternoon baseball games.



Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

This is just a great song by one of the greatest American songwriters ( Burt Bacharach ), though I must admit that it was the lyrics ( by Hal David, Bacharach's long-time collaborator - Burt did the music and Hal did the lyrics ) that enchanted me as a child, despite that fact that a some of them don't make a lot of sense when you really think about it. I mean - I've always loved the image of the "guy whose feet are too big for his bed", but considering that I've never heard that expression in any other context ( Has anyone actually ever complained that his/her feet were too big for a bed? ), I don't think it makes any sense to say "Raindrops keep fallin' on my head. And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed". That being said, those lines still stick in my head all these years later, so I guess it's a great lyric.



Let Em In

I no longer consider this to be my favorite post-Beatles McCartney tune, ( I think I like both "Band on the Run" and "Maybe I'm Amazed", better than this one ), but back when I was a kid it was my favorite. There's something really kid-friendly about the repetitive lyrics, especially the parts where Paul calls out the names of all the relatives.



Cats in the Cradle

This is another one I loved as a kid because of the way it tells a story. Of course, now that I'm an adult with sons of my own, I find this song especially poignant today. This one can still choke me up a bit. This song really is to music what "Field of Dreams" is to movies. Perhaps only men can really "get" this song ( My wife still doesn't understand why "Field of Dreams" makes me cry. I, for my part, have no idea why she cries at the end of "Ghost'. ), but all men pretty much "get" it.



Love Will Keep Us Together

Did "Captain and Tennille" epitomize the the cheesiness of the 70s?
Undeniable.

Is this song incredibly catchy?
Undeniable.



Superstition

If this song doesn't make you move, you just might be dead.



Rich Girl

As a kid, I just loved the line "You can rely on the old man's money". Of course, as a little kid, I had no idea that "old man" meant "father". So every time I heard this song, I envisioned an elderly guy with huge bags of cash.



Paradise by the Dashboard Light

Considering the subject matter of this song, perhaps it's a bit inappropriate that I liked this song so much as a child. Of course, I really had no idea what they were singing about. I just knew a loved the back and forth during the "Will you love me forever / Let me sleep on it" part.



Squeeze Box

OK, so this song is really inappropriate for a child - but I swear when I heard the lines "Mama's got a squeeze box, Daddy never sleeps at night", I thought they were singing about an accordion!



Rich

P.S. I don't know how many responses I'll get to this post, but if you do respond, I'd love to hear your own lists of childhood songs.

40 strikes back.

Just a quick follow-up to my last post. In response to that post, EZ commented ...

"He's just trying to lull you into a false sense of security, so you'll injure something else!!!".

Well, EZ was on to something there. I had to skip my next scheduled run because my left knee felt all "sponge"-y. In fact, it's now been six days since my personal-best-matching run, and my left knee still feel "funny" ( and that's "funny - uh oh", not "funny, ha ha" ). I'm sure it's nothing a few more days of rest won't fix, but I've got to be careful, because the last time I tried to run when my knee felt like this, I hurt my knee so bad that I had to stop running for 2 months, and my knee didn't really feel completely normal until about 18 months after that.

On top of that, my left ankle is aching again, after feeling perfectly fine for more than a month.

Hmm, I guess the speed I need to run to match my personal best time is right at the limit of what my joints can handle. What's odd about this is that for about month prior to running at my personal best speed last Sunday, I had been running at a speed just 0.1 mph slower with no ill effects.

Oh well, at least I reached the goal I had been working towards for 3 years. At least I can say that I was at my best at 40 ( at least for a day ). I'll start running again soon. I'll just need to tread lightly ( both literally and figuratively ) when I do, to make sure I don't get any kind of serious injury.

Rich

I just kicked 40 in the nuts!

Nice try, 40.

You tried your best to keep me down.

You even got your buddies 37, 38, and 39 to gang up on me. Those guys hit hard. They went right for my knees. They put me out of commission for 2 months. It took me about 18 months just to get back to 90% of my old self. As soon as it looked like I had them beat, 39 snuck up on me and whacked me in my left ankle. I was out of commission for another month. I was down, but not out. I wasn't going to let your thugs keep me down for long.

Then, staring on January 15, 2010, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You came at me hard, but I was ready. I backed you into a corner, and started to wear you down. I thought I was going to take you down easy, but you still had a few tricks up your sleeve. I've got to give you credit, those night cramps in my calves were a nice touch. I didn't see those coming. You never really expect to be wake up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain in one of your calves, as your calf muscles contract so hard that they practically tear themselves apart. Sure, I'm no stranger to those night cramps. 15, 16, 17, and 18 used to get me with night cramps a lot back in the day, but these days those cramps usually only show up about once or twice a year. I had never gotten those cramps on consecutive nights - until a about a month ago. Left calf one night, and right calf the next. Sure, you had me limping for a while, but that wasn't going to keep me off that treadmill.

Just when I thought I had you beat, you brought on that stomach virus two weeks ago. It's tough to have enough energy to run, when you go a full day without eating any food. It's took all my strength just to drag my ass to the train station the rest of that week ( to get to work ) when I could only get down about one small meal a day. Crap, I lost a lot a weight that week. You were literally wearing me down. When I finally got my appetite back and tried to run on Sunday, April 25th, I found I could only run at my desired pace for about half as long as I wanted to. Still, I knew I was close. If I could just get my strength back, I could take you out. Hell, I promised myself I would take you down one week later. I ran every day over the next week - knees and ankles and calves be damned. I asked my knees/ankles/calves to hold up for me this past week, and they did their part. They got me to Sunday, May 2nd, and at that point it was up to me. At 4 PM that day, it was High Noon on that treadmill. It was me versus you, nose to nose, mano a mano. I looked you in the eye, and didn't blink. You were going down.

Well, you know very well what happened on that treadmill. I matched my personal best time for 2 miles - a time I hadn't run since I just turned 37 - a time I hadn't run since you and your buddies went after my knees, ankles, and calves. You're toast 40. You're dead, and when I set a new personal best time in about a month or so, you are going to be buried.

I hope you've learned your lesson, 40. Don't underestimate me again. You better warn your friends. Tell 41 I'm coming for him. If you run into 50 let him know I've got him in my sights too. Let him know I'll be spending the next 10 years training for our battle. He'd better watch his back.

Rich

P.S. OK. I admit it. Everything above was rather silly and self-centered. If I don't stop patting myself on the back soon, I'm going to wind up pulling a muscle. Buy hey, I'm pretty psyched. There were times when my knees and ankles felt so bad, that I had serious doubts about whether I would ever reach my goal. Perhaps, my knees will give out tomorrow, but at least I got all the way back for one day.

Tooth Fairy