The Joys of Takeout

I don't think the Pizza Hut in town will miss us, but they will surely remember us. We stopped in last night for Drake's favorite, the Personal Pan Cheese Pizza. Next to us, a family received their food just after we ordered. The father of this little family asked his young daughter to say grace, and she dutifully folded her hands and bowed her head. Drake's ears perked up at this, and he also folded his hands and raised his cherubic face. The neighboring family smiled at this, not knowing we had just finished watching The Simpsons Movie. As their daughter finished her blessing, Drake chimed in, "Bountiful Penis. Amen." Four shocked faces turned my way as my daughter jumped up to ask for our order to go. "That's bad," the little girl hissed. "Downright Evil!" her mother added. "Evil?" smiled Drake, "Like the Pope, Evil?" Next stop, Pizza Ranch.

Days with Drake

Drake comes by train, half a day's travel and half a state away. I drive eagerly to the train stop, with wanton disregard for speed limits. Dispite a three week planning period, I am late. He runs to me as I pull in, dragging a suitcase full of Hotwheels cars and no clothes. On the drive home, we discuss my tardy arrival repeatedly. "Grandma, you were late. Weren't you late Grandma?" Thus we discover today's theme; some thought which can't seem to find the exit sign in his head. He will relate in detail the story of our trip to the demolition derby - not so much because of the cars, the dirt, the noise that would thrill most young boys. Drake remembers the man who snatched from him a t-shirt he caught when a driver threw them out at the end of the show. He wants to go again this summer, but reminds me that he hopes the "bad man" won't be there. Attention to detail, that's Drake. His Autism gives him a single minded focus that most grad students would envy, but fellow first graders find repelling. He can recite the contents of the automobile history book at great grandma's house with amazing accuracy. All things wheeled and motorized are studied and worked over with devotion. But I long for him to form an attachment to other children that comes close to his love of the current John Deere tractor catalog. I foist him on my neighbor girls, who are too polite to refuse the invitation to play. They stare blankly as he shows them the nuances between the previous Mustang Models and this year's addition to the collection. Finally they find a common ground in riding their scooters, and though Drake insists on cleaning and adjusting their wheels, at last he is playing, playing, with other children. The time runs too quickly as the sun goes down, and the girls go home. But for the first time, he comes in wanting more time with another person instead of time spent with his beloved cars. I tuck him into his Thomas the Train sheets and pull up his Monster Truck blanket. As I start the Disney's Cars DVD, I remind myself: Albert Einstein, Steve Jobs, both brilliant men who have been placed on the Autism spectrum. I remember the baby smiles, heart warming and right on schedule. His love and gentleness with animals. His amazing sense of humor. Drake may not be accepted by all of his peers, but the brilliant part is he seems not to notice. He takes great joy in the things and people he loves and doesn't care to focus on the rest. Perhaps it isn't Drakes Autism that needs pitied, but the lack of it in the rest of us.