Fathers, Sons & Cars

This is a special Father's Day post written by The Husband aka Joseph Fontanez

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Over the years since his diagnosis, The Boy and I have connected on many levels with like interests. His love of The Peanuts Gang, the '67 collection Spider-Man cartoons, and my pancakes are an example of things that before I became a parent I had always wanted to share with my child.  

However, it's his love of cars, especially the movie Cars, that we share a bond that seems inherently ingrained in both of us.  I grew up in the era of muscle cars, behemoth coupes, roll down windows, and no AC. My Pop was a "wrencher." Any problems with the family car, and in the '70s there always were, my Pop was out front fixing it. I seemed to have bucked this trend as I have absolutely no knowledge of car repair. That does not mean I do not love cars.  I obsess over their lines, shapes, sounds and smells. As does The Boy.

A few months after The Boy was born, we were getting prepared to take the bus to visit my sister. With The Boy in tow we boarded at the first stop of the BX14. (We did not have a car, and living where we did where parking is as scarce as a Bigfoot sighting, we did not feel the need for one.)  It was 11am on a weekday and we were the only ones on board. The Boy was in his carriage and we proceeded to the back of the bus so that we would not be in anyone's way. Once we sat down the driver followed us and proceeded to berate because The Boy was still in his carriage and would be in someone's way. Still being new parents and feeling overprotective we tried to express our feeling more comfortable with his safety having him in the carriage. The Bus Driver refused to drive the bus until we took The Boy out and sat him on one of our laps. At that point we complied. 

The driver proceeded to drive and between the first stop and the stop where we got off, about 4 1/2 miles later, 3 people boarded the bus. Infuriated and annoyed we left the bus and gave the obligatory Bronx sarcastic, "Have a nice day", and continued on our way. At that moment I said to The Old Lady, "We're getting a car!" It was stated a little more colorfully at the time.

There was really only one car for me and that car was the Subaru Impreza WRX. I had obsessed over this car for years. When I was in Asia 90% of the photos I took were of WRXs. When we were finally able to we bought one in WR Blue, the only color acceptable to me, in April of 2006. I was so happy to not have to depend on public transportation or friends to get our family around. That feeling of independence filled me with pride. Funny how things this trivial can make someone feel so happy, when two years later we would be hit with the news that would leave a pit in my stomach that in some respects still exists today.

It's odd to state that a car could be part of the family. How can an inanimate object be considered a family member? Well, that car has shared in all the ups and downs we have had with The Boy.  It was in The Car where we first openly sobbed after The Boy's diagnosis.  It was in The Car through rain, sleet, and snow that I would take The Boy to therapy and The Old Lady to school. The Car was there for all of The Boy's first days of class. It was there for both of The Old Lady's Graduations, and I am hoping will be there for The Boy's future graduations.

You can tell that I am quite fond of The Car. Just as I had expectations for The Boy, I also had expectations for The Car.  When we purchased it I had hopes that when The Boy graduated High School the car would be his. In my mind it would have been like my Pop buying a '69 Mustang maintaining it and giving it to me at my High School graduation.  (Now I had five other siblings that probably would not be too happy with that sort of arrangement, but I am speaking hypothetically of course.) 

The day The Boy was diagnosed I felt as if that reality was taken away from me.  Crying in the front seat, I felt so uncertain about the future. When I glanced at The Boy sitting in the back, with his curly locks and his cheese smile, I thought to myself, "Screw This!", I was not going to let this bury me. 

It's been five years since his diagnosis and I continue to do my best in maintaining The Car.  It’s had its share of dents and dings, but for the most part it looks good for its age, like myself.
  

I still hold on to the hope of Norrin one day inheriting The Car from me, which adds to my obsessing over every little repair.  That's where The Mechanic (Vittorio Principe) comes in.  Or as Norrin calls him, "The Pit Stop."  Vittorio makes sure that The Car stays in great shape and more importantly, totally gets The Boy.  He has been more than accommodating to The Boy when he visits the shop.  Always willing to give him a tour as The Boy marvels at all the different tools hanging in the shop.  Meeting kind people is essential to The Boy's development, just as The Car is essential to our family. 

The Car at "The Pit Stop"

The Boy with Vittorio

Father's Day in The Bronx

We had a low key Father's Day.  We went for brunch at a local Bronx restaurant - Bruckner Bar & Grill.  Located in the South Bronx and part of an emerging artists neighborhood of loft apartments, quaint bars and cafes - I am always impressed by the charm of the place whenever I walk in.  Truly a Bronx original.      

We got there at quarter to 11, so we sat outside and waited for a few.  

They're in deep conversation...

His 2nd top tooth fell out this morning!

We just can't eat out at any ol place.  It needs to be planned.  We typically like to get to places early, when they are least likely to be crowded.  And we always make sure we have enough things to keep The Boy occupied.

And when he looks like he's ready to go.  We get and go.  Whether we're done eating or not.  

After brunch, we went shopping.  And that was it.  

We came home and I did laundry.  

Nothing exciting but we were together.  

How did you spend your Father's Day?  

What's a Sunday like in your City?   
Unknown Mami wants to know!   
Go on over to Sundays In My City.

  

Happy Father's Day

TTLG: My Three Sons by Joseph Fontanez aka The Husband

Raising a boy with autism these past years has been a challenging and daunting task.  Initial expectations have been replaced by new ones.  Skills that parents of  "typical" children take for granted are met with over ecstatic zeal.  Some fears that I had after the diagnosis have subsided, while new ones arise and I find myself with new trials to face and new triumphs to celebrate.

To parents like me these statements are just me beating the proverbial autistic dead horse.  I just hope I can provide some insight and help you see what I see.

A picture is worth a thousand words is an adage that holds true, especially when it comes to photos of The Boy.

If you didn't know anything about The Boy you would think I coached him to pose for this shot and asked him to pretend he is running from the Evil Emperor Zorg while dodging his ping pong ball gun.  When I look at this picture, I like to pretend this is the case.  And that we are enjoying a fun family moment.  The reality is that The Boy is stimming (hand flapping) because he's overstimulated and is in fact at a loss for control.  This is one of my sons.  This is the son that brings on the stares.  The kind that say, "what is wrong with that kid?"  The only thing wrong is a lack of understanding of his condition.

I have many shots of The Boy stimming.  They used to sadden me but no longer. They remind me of that famous Neil Leifer photo of Ali standing over Liston seemingly beating his chest.  The fact is that he just tapped his chest for a split second and that moment was frozen in time.  That is how I learned to deal with these photos.  As just moments in time that do not tell the entire story. 

Below, we see The Boy in another solitary moment. Looking off, contemplating, his little mind processing all to see in Downtown Disney.  Accompanied by Pooh, Piglet and Tigger, he seems disengaged and detached.  This is probably the biggest stereotype regarding children on the spectrum.  That they live their everyday in some type of inner solitary confinement.  There was an instance when a childcare provider told The Old Lady that she thought The Boy would just sit in a corner while at her center.  Now this was a woman who has run an after school/day care program for over thirty years.  So if she can be ill informed, imagine people who have little interaction with children.  There are times when The Boy becomes detached and super focused but it's really when he is reading or trying to figure out some  game.  This is the son that can't be bothered.  

I don't see his detachment as something negative.  I see it as The Boy's problem solving and introspection time.  We all become detached at times, and with children on the spectrum it seems to me an area that gets a great deal of attention.   Maybe because it's common character trait that everyone shares, and the condition exacerbates this.  Sometimes I can be a little overbearing in my attempts to "snap him out of it."  And more often than not, The Boy will push me away or respond almost like he is telling me "I got this" or "You sir, are annoying me."  And it's still okay because we all need our time.      

The Boy now on the Speeder bike looks like he is racing through the forests of Endor.  Looking like he is engaged in the shot, participating in make believe.  Just having fun the way any other 5 year old should.  This is the son like any other.  The interests he finds to be fun and entertaining make him smile.  He generally cracks up at any kind of slapstick mayhem.  He cracks up when contestants try to cross the big balls on Wipe Out. Sometimes he pretends to surf space when watching the Silver Surfer cartoon. He takes on the role of Little Critter and recites line from one his favorite book "Just me and my Dad"  

"There comes a time when the jewels cease to sparkle.  When the gold loses its luster.  When the throne room becomes a prison.  And all that is left is a father's love for his child." Conan the Barbarian

All three of my sons have traits that appear from time to time.  I embrace every solitary moment captured.  I know the story behind every photograph.  And I am happy and proud to share them. I love my three sons equally.  They all need different attention at different times.  But I make equal time for each of them because my three sons make up My Boy.