Note: If you’re not a Blackhawks fan, a hockey fan, an admirer of the Stanley Cup, or you otherwise just have good taste in what you read, please close the browser and go about your business. This is nothing more than random thoughts, images, and a short video from opening night at the United Center…
Last Spring, the wife and I were a bit worried about the prospect of our autistic son moving on to mainstream kindergarten from his special-ed pre-K class. What concerned us was the transition.
As I sit and think about it, in the three years since my son was diagnosed with autism I can’t recall a single time when I asked “why me?”. Never did I consider myself the victim. If anything, I often questioned if I was somehow to blame, if even partially.
Every anniversary since 9/11 – on Facebook, Twitter, in the media and around the proverbial water coolers – American gather to tell their story of where they were when the planes crashed, their reactions to watching the towers fall, and how they felt in the immediate aftermath. Across the country people donated money, blood, supplies,…
For my birthday, I strongly hinted to my wife that should she be having any difficulty trying to decide what to get for me – aside from the night-vision goggles and/or a 20-something college girl working her way through school as an exotic dancer – that a Groupon for five EVO Camp or Spartan X…
I just spent an hour hammering out a 600+ word response to the letter below. It truly pisses me off and as a father of a child with autism, I think I have every right to feel the way I do.
A few weeks ago, I metioned that my wife convinced me to, at the very least, explore the option of writing a book about my son Matt and what it’s been like raising a child with Autism. Our story, or better yet his story, needs to be told. I have to say, though, it’s not…