He was so disappointed to learn that he wasn’t better.
posted Wednesday March 3rd, 2010
I still haven’t befriended an adult with Down syndrome.
There is a guy who works at our Safeway — his sister is a former Mothers Who Write student — and I’ve been thinking about having him to dinner. But for now, I’ve been hanging out with Sarah. I’ve never met her, but take a look at her blog and see if you can stop reading.
I haven’t befriend an adult with Down syndrome, but I did meet a pretty cool guy today. He has an adult child with Down syndrome. That doesn’t count. But I’m circling.
I’d want to be friends with this guy even if we didn’t have the DS thing in common. We both work in journalism — though he’s far more distinguished than I can ever hope to be, with my altweekly background. I arrived for our meeting today a few minutes early, and by the time he arrived, I’d spread papers (yeah, my “to do” lists) all over the table at Starbucks, trying to catch up. I shoved them back in the Samoas case I’d brought them in (Girl Scout cookie cases make the perfect briefcase — try it!) and gave him a good laugh.
We spoke for about an hour — both about being journalists in a changing (to say the least) industry and about our kids — and by the end, I felt (hoped) I had met a kindred spirit.
We talked about his son, who is in his 20s and has a good life with lots of friends. But the son’s life is not without sadness. My new friend is bugged (as many of us are) by the notion that people with Down syndrome are happy all the time.
That’s familiar turf to me. I told him I worry that Sophie will be just smart enough to know she’s not smart enough. He nodded.
His particulars took me aback.
When his son turned 16, he told me, the kid woke up on his birthday and was so disappointed to learn –
I filled in the blank in my head, before he could say it:
He was so disappointed to learn that he couldn’t get a driver’s license.
That wasn’t it.
He was so disappointed to learn that he wasn’t better.
Better?! My new friend is soft-spoken, and I’ve got an ear infection. I didn’t hear him at first. Then I got it. Better. He wanted to be all better.
The same thing happened, he continued, when his son turned 21. Again, the young man had figured that on his birthday, he’d wake up and be all better.
I am so happy that I met this young man’s father. But I have to admit that story made me profoundly sad; I couldn’t shake it all day, no matter how long my “to do” list.
It did make me want to meet the son. His father promised to make it happen.
How cool and exciting! I love Sarah’s blog- it is so … hopeful…. I have a 10 year old, know a 16 year old and a 20 something year old. Of course everyone is different in alot of ways – speech especially. The 20 year old I know works bagging groceries at the supermarket, is very chatty and a lovely person. The 16 year old is quite reserved in many ways with less of a warm social personality but her speech is also quite good when she uses it. My daughter is really coming along with her speech but loses the articulation and content in longwinded paragraphs (which she really enjoys doing!) and she is a warm hearted, huggy, active kind of girl. If I’m ever in your neck or you in mine we should try to get together. I’m not a journalist though, just a social worker.
are you kidding? my sister is a social worker — miles above us (we?) scuzzy journalist types. if you’re ever in arizona….
Sigh…I also wake up some birthdays wishing I was better too. Not trying to minimize anything…just sayin there are some universal dilemnas. Glad you connected w/ this new friend. xoxo
Ditto Kathy, I have those birthdays where I wish I was better too. Our kids are going to have heartache throughout their lives and I think that’s a tough thing for a parent to accept, we don’t ever want our kids to be hurt. I really like what John Rosemond has to say about guiding our kids, it applies to every kid and acknowledges that we all have limitations.
My parents never told me I could be whatever I wanted to be. They told me what all parents should tell all children: I was blessed with a finite set of strengths. It was primarily my responsibility to discover what they were, develop them, and use them for the benefit of my fellow citizens.