We're More Alike Than Different, Part II

Part II of Nov. 26th's post, We're More Alike Than Different, Pt. I. This post was written by Julie Scott-Trask, Oakville, Ontario. An excerpt from "The IDEAL Way to Cook: Food for Thought".


When I moved to Canada in 1976 I went home every year, sometimes twice a year. After mum died, David began to visit me. He came every year in the summer and then twice a year (summer and Christmas). I loved his visits and he loved coming. He adopted my in-laws as "his family" and took great pride in being Uncle David to my children. He held them, fed them and played with them. He had endless patience for their games and they repaid him with their love. These were precious times for me. At times we laughed together until we cried, he amazed everyone with his memory for move stars long forgotten, and I indulged his passion for wrestling by taking him to Maple Leaf Gardens.

As David aged, health issues finally prevented him from coming to stay with me. This created a huge void in my life. Now I go home to England as often as I can and visit him in his home. He lives in a house with up to three friends, all with developmental delays. The group has changed in very recent years because two of his longtime friends and housemates died. They are visited once a day from Monday to Friday by a social worker. Together they form their own family unit. Doreen has been a constant companion. She is retired and in her 60s. Her conversation is punctuated with lots of "Loves" and "Darlins". She constantly reassures me that they look after each other. Having spent time with them, I know that to be true. David's life is rich and full. When I visit him, he fits me into his life just as he used to fit into mine when he came here.

He is everything, and has the life that my parents strove for with their love and courage.

David has always been generous and patient with a world that could not embrace him, perhaps even feared his difference as if it might be contagious, and that often teased and laughed at him. Looking back, it was as if he drew strength from an inner well of knowing that he was loved without measure by his family and friends. Maybe he knew that one day the world would mature and change as its understanding grew?

I know that if the world had David's heart, it would be a very peaceful world indeed.

David is the mirror I look into as I have strived to create meaningful programs for my students these past 11 years. He is a constant reminder that they can and that I must never assume to know the limit of anyone's ability, that they will constantly surprise me if I give them the opportunity.

I Heard the Angels Sing, Part II

Part II of last week's post, "I Heard the Angels Sing, Part I".


This post was written by Tracey Coveart, Port Perry, Ontario. An excerpt from "The IDEAL Way to Cook: Food for Thought".


Stephanie was diagnosed with autism when she was six. She despised touch, eye contact. She lived in her own world of animals, animation and Disney characters, but she welcomed me into it - and I went, happily and gratefully.

At seventeen, Stephanie walks. She talks incessantly (and sounds just like her mother). She laughs. She hugs me. And she has never lost the ability to experience pure joy. She does it every day. Bare feet in the grass. A Frisbee, caught. A compliment.

Simba is still her best friend. But she has opened her arms to embrace the people who adore her. (And anybody who has a dog or cat!)

Her enthusiasm is infectious. She is loved by everyone her spirit touches.

Stephanie cannot read or write or do math, but these are just skills. And she has so many other wonderful talents that compensate for any abilities that she lacks.

It is not one's ability to read a soup label or balance a cheque book that is the determination of a full and meaningful life.

Stephanie has been enrolled in the associated program at school for her entire educational experience. She has no idea that she is different from the 'mainstream' kids; that she and her friends have 'special needs'. What she does have is self-confidence. Oodles of it. And a profound sense of belonging, of fitting in. She is the happiest, most well-adjusted young lady I have ever met. And as a parent, that is all I could ever hope for.

At one time, Stephanie was my greatest sorrow - a tiny tragedy that I had carried in my womb and brought forth into this harsh world. Not anymore. Stephanie taught me that the greatest gifts come wrapped in unusual packages. They don't fit neatly under the tree, but they yield the most wonderful surprises.

Although our life is not simple and the future is a frightening country, Stephanie is my greatest blessing. And if God came down to earth today and asked if I would like Him to make her a 'normal' girl, I would refuse. She is perfect. Just the way she is.

I have always said that when Stephanie was born, I heard the angels sing. I realize now that they were saying good-bye to one of their own.

Photo credit: D Sharon Pruitt

Music is the Key

My brother fell in love when he was only ten years old. In fact, it was love at first sight. The moment he set eyes on his Christmas gift that year, there was no looking back. His first guitar opened up a whole new world for him, and he would play for hours, lost in another world. Nothing much has changed. He still locks himself in his room and enters a world where unspeakable joy threads its way through his fingers and into the strings of his guitar. Nothing else can lift him from the doldrums like an hour spent strumming on his handmade acoustic guitar. It was, and still is, a place to go when he needs to fill his tank. But it's more than that: music feeds his soul, nourishes every part of him, and when he dips his hand in the well of creative exploration, his spirit expands and lets in more light.

Of course, he would wave away my poetic ramblings. "It just makes me feel good, that's all, pure and simple," he would say.

For one breathless moment, there are no need for words, no expectations, either from the outer world or himself, and when he's on stage, he experiences a deeper connection with others.

It should come as no surprise, then, that his son, Christian, is a gifted drummer. Already, at eight years old, he has knocked the socks off of older, more experienced drummers. "How did he learn to play like that?" they ask. His father merely shakes his head and says, "I don't know, he just picked up the sticks one day, and away he went!"

Christian has autism, and according to the Autism Canada Foundation, "it has been noted time and again that autistic children evidence unusual sensitivities to music. Some have perfect pitch, while many have been noted to play instruments with exceptional musicality."

Which begs the question: Why is music therapy so effective in unlocking doors that have hitherto been closed within a developmentally, emotionally, or physically challenged person? Well, "music unlocks abilities" within a person. A trained music therapist will carefully assess the person and determine his or her particular needs and strengths. By creating a safe environment, where words are unnecessary, improvisation is encouraged, and creativity is given room to flourish, amazing things unfold. A nonverbal child speaks for the first time, or makes eye contact, for example.

Who benefits from music therapy? For those with acquired brain injury, autism, and other developmental disabilities, music can give them permission to explore their creativity, and an open space to communicate and interact with others.

"Music can heal. It can do more than ease the pain. It can throw a lifeline to kids who can't be reached in any other way." Paul McCartney

To learn more about music therapy, check out the Canadian Association for Music Therapy (CAMT Conference 2009, A Song for Everyone: The Voice of Music Therapy, May 7-9, 2009); Canadian Music Therapy Trust Fund; the Laurier Centre for Music Therapy Research; and OnWellness.info.