The sun is shining.
The snow is melting.
And hope springs eternal....
Time to flip the page on the calendar...
Happy Autism Awareness Month!
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Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Autism: Sticks and Stones and Presidential Punchlines
"We must build a world free of unnecessary barriers, stereotypes, and discrimination.... policies must be developed, attitudes must be shaped, and buildings and organizations must be designed to ensure that everyone has a chance to get the education they need and live independently as full citizens in their communities."
-- Barack Obama, April 11, 2008
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This sort of attitude is hurtful.
Really.
I'm not saying it to be melodramatic. I genuinely feel that way.
Hurt that the leader of our country would make people with disabilities, people like my son, a punchline.
On national television.
Not. Cool.
So Mr. President, if you are reading this, I would ask you to take this situation and turn into something good. Look into the television cameras and admit that you screwed up. Tell America that the kids on the short bus are so much more than a punchline. They are hardworking heroes.
That sort of change is the change we need.
-- Barack Obama, April 11, 2008
YouTube
This sort of attitude is hurtful.
Really.
I'm not saying it to be melodramatic. I genuinely feel that way.
Hurt that the leader of our country would make people with disabilities, people like my son, a punchline.
On national television.
Not. Cool.
So Mr. President, if you are reading this, I would ask you to take this situation and turn into something good. Look into the television cameras and admit that you screwed up. Tell America that the kids on the short bus are so much more than a punchline. They are hardworking heroes.
That sort of change is the change we need.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Autism: Beautiful Dreamers
For everyone who thought I couldn’t do it.
For everyone who thought I shouldn’t do it.
For everyone who said, ‘It’s impossible.’
See you at the finish line.
~Christopher Reeve
The White House Blog included an entry today that brought tears to my eyes:
"At a time when the issue of stem cell research seemed to be fading from the national consciousness, a number of advocates stepped forward – as the President described this morning -- to ensure it wasn’t forgotten.
None were more passionate than Christopher and Dana Reeve. We asked Peter Wilderotter, who is the current President and CEO of the Reeves Foundation, and who attended the signing today, to tell us what the day meant to him. This is what he told us:
Last Friday marked the three-year anniversary of the death of our beloved Dana and in an instant sadness turned to hope as only she could do when we learned of the President's decision to lift the restrictions. Today in the East Room of the White House to be surrounded by so many allies and friends who fought so long on this -- I was reminded of Chris Reeves’ edict that nothing is impossible.
The eloquence of President Obama and his graceful and stirring remembrance of Chris and Dana shall echo always and be the fuel for our journey to provide today’s care as we search for tomorrow’s cures. Here is that remembrance from the President as he closed out his remarks at the ceremony today:
One of Christopher’s friends recalled that he hung a sign on the wall of the exercise room where he did his grueling regimen of physical therapy. It read: "For everyone who thought I couldn’t do it. For everyone who thought I shouldn’t do it. For everyone who said, ‘It’s impossible.’ See you at the finish line." Christopher once told a reporter who was interviewing him: "If you came back here in ten years, I expect that I’d walk to the door to greet you."
Christopher did not get that chance. But if we pursue this research, maybe one day – maybe not in our lifetime, or even in our children’s lifetime – but maybe one day, others like him might. There is no finish line in the work of science. The race is always with us – the urgent work of giving substance to hope and answering those many bedside prayers, of seeking a day when words like "terminal" and "incurable" are finally retired from our vocabulary.
Today, using every resource at our disposal, with renewed determination to lead the world in the discoveries of this new century, we rededicate ourselves to this work."
So yes, I cried when I read this. I've prayed the bedside prayers. I've kissed my only son's sweet head and worried and wondered what will become of him. On days like today, I'm sustained by the vision of the dreamers.
To Christopher, Dana and all of my fellow dreamers...
Yes ...
Here's to the dream.
See you at the finish line...
For everyone who thought I shouldn’t do it.
For everyone who said, ‘It’s impossible.’
See you at the finish line.
~Christopher Reeve
The White House Blog included an entry today that brought tears to my eyes:
"At a time when the issue of stem cell research seemed to be fading from the national consciousness, a number of advocates stepped forward – as the President described this morning -- to ensure it wasn’t forgotten.
None were more passionate than Christopher and Dana Reeve. We asked Peter Wilderotter, who is the current President and CEO of the Reeves Foundation, and who attended the signing today, to tell us what the day meant to him. This is what he told us:
Last Friday marked the three-year anniversary of the death of our beloved Dana and in an instant sadness turned to hope as only she could do when we learned of the President's decision to lift the restrictions. Today in the East Room of the White House to be surrounded by so many allies and friends who fought so long on this -- I was reminded of Chris Reeves’ edict that nothing is impossible.
The eloquence of President Obama and his graceful and stirring remembrance of Chris and Dana shall echo always and be the fuel for our journey to provide today’s care as we search for tomorrow’s cures. Here is that remembrance from the President as he closed out his remarks at the ceremony today:
One of Christopher’s friends recalled that he hung a sign on the wall of the exercise room where he did his grueling regimen of physical therapy. It read: "For everyone who thought I couldn’t do it. For everyone who thought I shouldn’t do it. For everyone who said, ‘It’s impossible.’ See you at the finish line." Christopher once told a reporter who was interviewing him: "If you came back here in ten years, I expect that I’d walk to the door to greet you."
Christopher did not get that chance. But if we pursue this research, maybe one day – maybe not in our lifetime, or even in our children’s lifetime – but maybe one day, others like him might. There is no finish line in the work of science. The race is always with us – the urgent work of giving substance to hope and answering those many bedside prayers, of seeking a day when words like "terminal" and "incurable" are finally retired from our vocabulary.
Today, using every resource at our disposal, with renewed determination to lead the world in the discoveries of this new century, we rededicate ourselves to this work."
So yes, I cried when I read this. I've prayed the bedside prayers. I've kissed my only son's sweet head and worried and wondered what will become of him. On days like today, I'm sustained by the vision of the dreamers.
To Christopher, Dana and all of my fellow dreamers...
Yes ...
Here's to the dream.
See you at the finish line...
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