I remember what life was like pre 9-11. How that day robbed us of our false sense of security and how we are even more cautious with our children and our families.
I came across an interesting read about a single dads experience dealing with 9-11 and his son who has autism. I thought it was a good read so I am including it here for you to read as well.
Even though I am not on this journey alone and I have my wife to help me with the children there are times that either one of us might find ourselves alone with the kids and as a parent, any parent, Autism or not we all face the daunting difficulties since 9-11 in raising our children and ensuring that they are safe, that our families and homes are safe and that we are there to protect them.
I hope you enjoy:
On the anniversary of 9/11 I am remembering many things about that day. As a New Yorker, I recall the day itself, those I know who perished, and the eerie still of the great city. As a dad, I recall the effort to call outside of Manhattan and get word of Alex (who lived in Virginia with his mom at the time). It took a while, but once I got through I heard that Alex had requested the following of the TV "turn that off, that's scary," one of his last full sentences at the age of 3 as he was in the middle of regressing into autism. Thinking of this, I am appending a speech I made at City Hall in Manhattan earlier this year (for Autism Awareness Day) about the challenges of being a single dad in NYC, as it has a brief tie-in to 9/11:
I am the proud single parent of a boy with autism.
My son Alex, who is 12 years old, regressed following his 3rd birthday in 2001.
Alex is non-verbal, but that was not always the case. He was once able to speak, in fact he spoke in his native English and even acquired a little Spanish at daycare. He was once able to count to ten in English, Spanish, and Japanese. For example, on 9/11 he was able to say "turn that off, that's scary" in response to television coverage of the attacks on the World Trade Center.
Six months later his speech was gone, and I did not so much as hear a "dad" for years. That too, is scary.
I would like to describe to you a couple of the challenges I have faced being a single parent of a boy with autism here in the city.
Taking a shower. Yes, taking a shower can be a challenge. First, I have to worry that Alex will actually remain in the apartment while I am in the shower. You see Alex can now open our front door, and has made it as far as the lobby before I was able to retrieve him.
Should Alex remain in the apartment, I have to worry about our food supply. Once Alex realized he no longer needed me to retrieve his food, he became proactive about feeding himself, which is great, unless you emerge from the shower to find most of your food for the next few days gone, or on the floor, or strategically crushed into the furniture and crevices of the apartment.
A bit more disconcerting is to emerge from the shower and find stool on the floor, walls, or strategically crushed into the furniture and crevices of the apartment.
Having neighbors. Yes, having neighbors can be a challenge. Most of the folks who live in our building are great, but acceptance and welcoming comments seem to dissipate with proximity to our unit. You see, to live on our floor means to hear and see Alex occasionally melt down, bang on the walls (occasionally with his head) and in general have to experience or see some of the challenging aspects of autism. Well on the plus side, we usually have the elevator to ourselves as neighbors kindly wait for the next lift.
I have answered the door on more than one occasion to find police officers there with a request to search the apartment as the same kindly neighbors called in suspected child abuse. Thankfully the officers I have met were all trained in responding to autism and our talk turned to their apology for having to ask me to sign papers that I do not in fact abuse my son. I would also like to say that on more than one occasion an officer has confided in me his concern that his child has or is regressing into autism. Quite the coincidence, no?
And finally the subway. Of course the subway can be a challenge. Compelled by a sudden storm or other inability to timely hail a cab we have been forced into the tubes for an adventure. One time in particular, Alex who was sitting calmly and taking in accolades from nearby passengers as to how cute he is, decided he had enough and wanted out of the train. Being in-between stations this is of course impossible; thus Alex melted down, with full out screaming, hitting and biting of self and dad. I was forced to pin him to the car floor while our fellow passengers kindly evacuated to the other half of the car. We beat a hasty retreat at the next station and opted to walk in the rain before the possibility of having to explain ourselves to the authorities.
