Introduction

I have wanted to share my brother's story for a long time. He is a trailblazer, or perhaps more accurately, my parents were trailblazers in the movement to keep special needs kids at home with their families after birth. John was born in 1960, a time when almost no middle class parents kept kids like him at home. Somehow, my mother knew that his potential could only be maximized by his living at home with his parents and three sisters. And so he did. I know it was really hard for many people, but it was never hard for me.
He was born about a month early and I've been told it was a very difficult birth for my mother. There were no sonograms in 1960, so no one knew in advance that he had a very large head, even for an achondroplasiac dwarf. Despite the best efforts of the doctors, his brain was damaged during birth, leaving him mentally retarded. Friends and family members recommended that John be institutionalized for the 'good' of my sisters and me, but my mother was resolute and home he stayed.
I cannot imagine what my life would have been like had John not been in it. I created this blog to share with others the joy and pain I have experienced as the sibling of a special needs person and to let others know of the tremendous success my hero has achieved.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Lunch with My Hero

Since I didn't see John for Christmas, I flew to Providence and took him out to lunch on Sunday. As always, we chose an Italian restaurant that serves lasagna in large portions. Once he had eaten precisely half of his lasagna, he put his fork down and asked our waitress to bundle up the remaining piece so he could take it home and eat it later. An order of cheesecake to go ensured that he'd have a delightful Sunday evening meal.

Over lunch, we talked about the enjoyable Christmas visit he'd just had with our sister, Liz and he delighted in describing the frequency with which she lit matches to clear the air of fart waves. "She's going to burn herself lighting all those matches," he giggled to me.

"Farting can be dangerous," I replied agreeably.

"Don't be ridiculous," he responded. "Farting isn't dangerous -- playing with matches is dangerous".

As usual, his perspective on life was right on and left me laughing. What would I do without my dear hero, John?
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