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Why I Will Never Break Up With Facebook

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When I first moved to Canada almost thirteen years ago, the world seemed like a very big place. I had a very hard time adjusting to life in a completely new territory where I did not know a single soul. If I felt lonely, I could no longer get into my car and visit my best friend for coffee. I couldn’t drop in on my parents for an impromptu dinner. I couldn’t call anyone to find out who was going to see which movie or have a drink in which bar. Now, if I felt lonely, I had to sit alone in my apartment in this strange land and just deal with it.

I kept telling myself that this had been my own choice. No-one had coerced me into packing my life into checked baggage and moving halfway across the world. But knowing that didn’t make the process any easier.

Desperate for human contact, I turned to my computer and instant-messaged with anyone I could find online. The most oft-sought-out victim of my off-the-boat neediness was my friend Kane in Michigan, who was endlessly patient and kind even though I must have been a complete pain in the you-know-where from time to time.

That was really the first time that my computer gave me much-needed access to a friend, but it certainly wasn’t the last. At some point over the years, Facebook became an everyday part of life for most people. Admittedly, the word “friend” can be a bit of a misnomer where Facebook is concerned, but I have met some fabulous people online who I count as true friends, even though I have never met them in person. These are folks who have helped me through a pregnancy loss, the death of my father, my son’s autism diagnosis, injuries, illnesses, my bouts of mental messed-up-ness, and a number of other things.

Not only has Facebook helped me forge new friendships, it has enabled me to keep in touch with family members, and with friends I have known for a long time.

It has also provided me with access to an entire autism community. On the days when I want to feel that I am not alone, all I have to do is turn on my laptop, and within a few clicks I am having virtual conversations with people who give me advice, information, encouragement, or whatever else I might be needing. If I’m having a really good day, I am able to use my social networks to help other people who might be feeling overwhelmed or discouraged.

Because I’m human, and humans are given to complaining, I do like to hate on Facebook from time to time. I gripe about having to constantly vet my privacy settings, I lament about unsubstantiated myths and rumours being perpetuated, I whine whenever my timeline’s appearance changes. But at the end of the day – as much as I hate to admit it – I have become reliant on Facebook. Because through Facebook, I can reach so many people who really and truly matter to me.

(Photo credit: jurvetson. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

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Autism Awareness: When The Puzzle Pieces Don’t Fit

In many countries around the world, April is designated as Autism Awareness Month. In the lead-up to it, I am starting to see more postings on Facebook offering autism awareness merchandise, providing little factual snippets about autism, and inviting people to “Light it up Blue”.

I am also seeing ranty posts about how awareness is NOT ENOUGH, action is NEEDED, and the Light it up Blue campaign is nothing more than a ploy to line the pockets of people working for Autism Speaks, who let’s face it, do not provide financial assistance to affected families.

Sigh. Here we go again.

I don’t have feelings one way or the other about Light it up Blue or Autism Speaks. I don’t care that they don’t give money to families, because they are an organization that funds research. I have a feeling that some of the people so vehemently opposed to them care less about whose pockets are being lined and more about the fact that Autism Speaks is not a proponent of the controversial vaccines-cause-autism theory.

Which is fine. I don’t expect people to support organizations with philosophies that differ from their own. I believe that the prime driver of autism is genetics – I wouldn’t throw my voice behind an organization that actively tries to prove otherwise.

I also wouldn’t say derogatory things about people who don’t share my views. I wouldn’t put up postings implying that those who don’t agree with me are stupid or uninformed. I wouldn’t make use of insulting terms like “sheeple”.

I would live and let live.

People tend to have reasons for their beliefs. I know for a fact that vaccines had squat to do with my son’s autism, and both of my children are up to date on all of their shots. But I would not presume to tell people that just because my kid came out of the womb with autism, theirs must have as well, and if they don’t agree with me – then, you know, they are “sheeple”.

I tend to use the phrase “autism community” a lot, as if we were all just one big happy family that just wants the rest of the world to accept our kids. At times, though, I question whether there is an autism community. Sometimes – particularly during Autism Awareness Month – it feels as if there are many different sects that are all divided. Each sect has members who are more than happy to leave others to their different beliefs, and each sect has those who are almost militant in their attempts to get other people to think the same way they do.

I am of the opinion that Autism Awareness Month should not be used to push agendas about what may or may not cause autism. I think it should focus more on the fact that our kids have autism, whatever the cause was, and they are individuals who have a lot to offer society. It should be about trying to make the world a better place for our kids – a place where they can grow and flourish and reach their full potential, whatever that might be.

How can autism parents hope to make the world accept their kids when we cannot even get along among ourselves? What kind of example are we setting for the society that we’re hoping will treat our kids with the respect they deserve?

If you want to Light it up Blue or promote awareness in any other visible way, go ahead. Whether you support Autism Speaks or any other organization, give them whatever support you feel comfortable with. Tell people about your views if you like, but graciously accept that they might think differently.

Autism parents, we’re all in this together. All of our kids have autism. Let’s be nice to each other for their sake.

(Photo credit: Ashtyn Renee . This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)
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To Serve And Protect

This morning, I got up extra-early – despite my body screaming at me in protest at being yanked out of bed at such an ungodly hour – and went to the gym. It was so early that, even with the recent time change that gives us an extra hour of daylight in the mornings, it was pitch-dark.

My drive to the gym was uneventful. It usually is. There’s not really a lot that can happen during a two-minute drive. By the time I got there the parking lot was already about half-full. I parked the car, grabbed my bag and got out. When I turned around I was surprised to find myself face-to-face with a large policeman who was standing beside his cruiser.

“Good morning!” he said.

I looked blankly around me for a few seconds before concluding that since no-one else was in the parking lot, the policeman was talking to me.

“Hi!” I said brightly. Remember that “bright” can be a relative term. It was just a smidgeon after five in the morning.

“This your car?” he asked.

Again, I looked around, this time at the other cars in the parking lot. Gesturing stupidly at my old Chevy van, I said, “This one?” as if the policemen could have been referring to any of the other fifteen cars that I had just gotten out of.

“Yes,” said the policeman, without showing any trace of impatience. He probably encounters a lot of dimwits early in the morning.

Cripes, I thought suddenly. Does he think I stole the car?

I assured the policeman of my status as the car’s rightful owner, and the conversation that ensued was very boring. It involved a headlight that was out, a promise (on my part) that it would be taken care of right away, and an assurance (on his part) that he would not write me up for the $110 ticket.

Coincidentally, when I was riding the subway to work about ninety minutes later, the pair of men sitting across from me were talking about the evil entity that is the police force. From what I could glean, one of them had received a speeding ticket over the weekend and was now fighting it. This story led to a rant about how policemen as a breed are awful money-grabbers who are rude to the public and never do anything useful.

As I listened to this, I thought back to my earlier encounter. The policeman had been very nice to me, even though I was displaying the intelligence of a dead tulip. Technically, he would have been within his rights to give me a ticket; instead, he had done me the service of telling me – helpfully and non-confrontationally – that my headlight needed fixing.

This all makes me think back to a day about two years ago when I was at our local coffee shop with James, who was then almost four. My two boys had been playing the back yard, and George had pushed James into a brick wall. James had ended up with a bleeding face and more than a few tears, so I left George with my mother-in-law and took James out for a donut.

We sat next to a window in the coffee shop, James proudly sporting the gauze patch on his cheek. When a police cruiser parked outside, James waved enthusiastically at the policeman, who waved back cheerfully. When the policeman entered the coffee shop, he came right up to our table and started chatting with James. He introduced himself as Larry, told James about his own little boy who was about the same age, and on James’ request, he took James outside to look at the police car. He capped off the exchange by pulling a Thomas the Train sticker out of his pocket and putting it onto the gauze patch.

James thought Christmas had come early that day. He spoke about Larry the policeman for weeks, and a couple of years later, he still remembers him. What I remember of that day is that a police officer took the time to speak to a child. He instilled in my son the idea that the police are there for the community, and that they are trusted sources of help.

There are exceptions, of course. There are the policemen who will  be rude and arrogant, and who will power-trip you right into the middle of next week. But it is important to note that the exceptions are just that – exceptions. It seems a bit harsh to diss the entire police force based on the actions of a few of its members.

I want my children to know that if they are ever in trouble, they can go to the police, and the police will help them.

I am truly grateful for everything the police do. These people, who willingly put themselves in dangerous situations in order to protect their communities, are heroes.

(Photo credit to grainger. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)