We've been an autism family for a long time now. Long before there was "autism awareness".
We've had insults and slurs spewed at us when out in public for more than two decades.
But that has never stopped us.
I've been in many, shall we say, heated discussions with unaccepting people over the years. Things are changing, but not fast enough. Autism families are still glared at, ridiculed, insulted, simply for going about their lives.
Part of the reason this happens is that the public at large, even if "aware" of autism, and outwardly accepting of diversity, tend to NOT see those autistic people with language impairments or more severe sensory or anxiety disorders as part of that diversity.
Society sees them as a problem to be solved.
My son isn't a problem to be solved.
He's Eric
He's 21, loves all things Disney or monster related, is quick to offer hugs and kisses to someone who is feeling down, is a whiz on YouTube and EBay (thankfully he doesn't know my credit card number) , he has an irresistible twinkle in his eye and a love for Crayola markers.
But most of all, Eric is a person.
A living breathing FEELING person.
Eric's anxiety disorders make it challenging for him to enjoy a night out for dinner. But his favourite foods are all "pub-style", best enjoyed out, in a pub. Fries, wings, ribs, chicken fingers.
Well yesterday Eric was incredibly sweet to his young niece. He noticed a craft project that was given to her was broken, so he got out his glue gun and fixed it for her. (did I mention how compassionate he is?). So this morning, with the sun shining brightly and the day promising to be a warm one, I told Eric I was taking him and my granddaughter out to get chicken and fries for dinner on a patio.
Eric loves restaurant patios.
The sounds do not bother him the way they do in a confined space. And if need be, he can get up and go sit in the car, within eye sight, for some respite from the stimuli.
But the weather turned.
It was too cool for a patio.
So I packed us up and headed out for an earlier dinner, knowing the pub we were going to would likely not get busy until the after work crowd.
We got there shortly after 4pm.
There was no one in the dining area, so we had our choice of table. We grabbed a booth as that ensures no one accidentally brushing up against Eric, a sensory trigger that can send him into meltdown.
I have a routine when we go to restaurants.
I know Eric's preferences, and we discuss before we go what he'd like to eat. So as we sit down I let the server know what Eric wants, and let them know its okay to put his order in right away while I , and whomever else is with us, peruse the menu.
Eric is not the most patient when it comes to food.
Have I mentioned Eric has a language impairment? Well, actually, he doesn't. He has a wonderful full scope language he has created in his own. I call it Disney-ese as the majority of the language is quotes from Disney movies. If you know Eric's language, you have no trouble understanding what he is saying to you. However, if a person isn't familiar with Eric's communication style they react in a very few, very specific ways. Ignore him completely, like he doesn't exist at all (the majority of people), condescend, that is talk to him like he's a newborn infant or a puppy, or try to figure it out, repeat back to him, look to me for cues.
Our server was thankfully one of the people who uses the latter method.
When our food came I asked her to bring the bill so I could pay right away ( I prefer to do this in case Eric gets over stimulated or goes into sensory overload and we have to leave quickly. That way we have no worries about the bill, because I've already paid it, so we can leave at any point) She didn't bat an eye. I can't tell you how many servers have acted huffy, inconvenienced by this simple request.
But our lovely lady did not.
She was aware of where she was placing my son's food, so that he wouldn't burn himself on the hot plate, but did so without treating him like a small child.
She left us alone.
Didn't hover.
But was there when we needed her.
This is extremely important when one of the guests has anxiety disorders. It may seem like a small thing, but could mean the difference between an enjoyable evening, or an evening ending in the emergency room.
She never once gave us one of those "looks".
Oh those looks.
The "pity" look. "that poor boy"; that poor mom".
The "pity me, why'd they have to sit at MY table" look.
The disgusted look.
We get one of those looks at least once a day.
My son is nearly 22 years old now.
Do the math.
That's a lot of nastiness sent our way through facial expressions.
But our fabulous lovely server never once gave us one of those looks.
Why?
She saw my son as a person.
Simple as that.
And because she did, it was our loveliest meal out as a family ever.
To the server at Fox and Fiddle in Toronto on St Clair West,
I quickly jotted down a note on a napkin, because I didn't want to cry and I knew if I told you in person I would.
Most people see my son as a problem, or a thing.
You saw him as a person.
With all my heart, and from the deepest reaches of my soul, I thank you for that.
And hopefully, just by being you, you'll inspire others to see their fellow humans as people as well.
Sincerely,
A well fed and happy Autism family
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