The Gadget Castle

I grew up believing that every home was like mine. I had no idea that my family was abnormal, no idea that other children weren't growing up in a situation like mine. The experts claim that children just believe that what they live is normal, and that certainly was my story. See, our family had an over-riding force that shaped its very being.

My Dad is an engineer.

Now, this may sound to you like it isn't a big deal, but then you didn't grow up thinking that it was normal to have a wire inside your mailbox that tripped a small flashing light in your living room to tell you that the mailman had arrived. You didn't know that people found it odd that you had a "keep warm" light that your mom set dinner under as she prepared to set the table. You probably didn't live with parents that were whole heartily committed to the electric knife concept because, well, it's electric, so it must work better than a regular knife despite the fact that it might actually dislocate a shoulder with excessive vibrating, and that it shot small flakes of turkey around the room.

Honestly, I thought everybody had one of those strings hanging from the garage ceiling with a cork tied to the end -- to tell you exactly how far into the garage you should pull the car. Also, let's not forget all the heat sensitive outside lights (that would flip on when an intruder might happen past) or the hours spent learning how to do things with our personal computer. Lest you forget, I'm talking about the 70s and 80s, so, really, for most people computers didn't do much. Ours didn't either, but I do remember my Dad sure liked to give me lessons about it.

"The computer can dial the phone for you!" He told me one night.

I was skeptical. Before you judge me, remember, it was the early 80s, and our computer monitor was also a television set if I remember correctly.

"Look, you type in the person's last name. Then you pull up their number. Then you enter the number here and hit enter. Then you wait (and wait and wait, I might add) and then you pick up the phone and it dials." I tried, vainly, to point out that that was no easier than actually dialing.

Interestingly enough, I have now replaced him with a husband who likes to do the same thing. In fact, some nights, when I see the spark creep into his eye, I just know, I know, that he wants to show me how to do something on the computer. My eyes glaze over and my teeth start a subtle grinding. But, my childhood did prepare me for this, so I'm always able to survive my evening tutorial.

Last week, we planned a camping trip to Watkins Glen, New York. A few days of the trip did happen, but due to inclement weather, we shortened the trip and stayed at my parents house. They were out of town, in Corning New York, attending an Intergenerational Elderhostel with Swimmer Girl.

After disarming the security system (of course-- something as basic as that is necessary for any gadget lover), we entered the garage. My Dad, in his retirement, I quickly found, has evolved. He now has a laser to show him how far to pull the car into the garage!

It was late when we arrived, so we dumped the kids in bed and used my parents room to sleep. I lay down in the bed, and Rob turned the lights off.

Instantly I shot of out bed!

"What is that?" I whispered.

On the ceiling was a large red blur. I placed my glasses on my face, and realized that the clock next to me was shining the time in large red numbers on the ceiling above my head.

My Dad strikes again.

Another of my favorite's is his caller id system. Not only caller id, but you can read it across the room.













A convenient favorite is his out-of-town plant watering system. The little green thing is his in-town watering system, a nice little frog gadget that sits in the plant and chirps when it dries out. It works well, and I know that because they bought me one for Christmas.








The mailbox indicator has appeared to morph and has become a garage door indicator, open or closed:














Just the sheer number of remote controls in the house is enough to make a grown woman shudder, but, of course, all my children know exactly how to work each one.

However, the best was this incredible can opener that you simply set on top of the can and push a button.



When all is said and done, I have to admit that the apple must not have fallen far from the tree, because he gave us his nifty can opener and we've eaten something from a can every day this past week. I can only say that it proves my thriftiness, because it provides both dinner and entertainment.

Jesse Jackson: Enough to Light My Fire to Blog Again

Well, it's been awhile since I've had the chance to blog, but Jesse Jackson has brought me out once again!

If you watch any TV at all, you're probably aware that Jesse Jackson is now the third Chicago pastor to pose a serious problem for Barack Obama's bid for the presidency. There's the Jeremiah Wright (who is a slippery snake) scandel, there's Pastor Michael Felger who used a sermon to attack Hillary Clinton, and now, not to be outdone, Jesse Jackson has appeared on the scene.

However, Jesse Jackson's derogatory comments shouldn't be surprising. Jackson has always been about one thing, and one thing only: Jesse Jackson. He wants to be president, so of course, in his angry bitter soul he's going to attack the one man who's arrived at the place where he's always wanted to be but could never obtain: the democratic nominee for president.

In addition to the immaturity of his comments, which were lewd enough to be banned from my blog, what's really sad about this is that it was in reaction to Obama's speeches addressing the need of black fathers to commit to their families. If Jackson actually spent any amount of time working with inner city children, he'd stick his foot directly in his mouth right now. Maybe Jackson would like to explain to a group of black children who have never had the benefit of an involved father that Obama was coming down too hard on black people?

Honestly, this incident reveals his character. If he wasn't a self-absorbed con artist, then he wouldn't have to watch his mouth when he thinks that camera's not there. How in the world someone who is as anti-family, anti-life, and anti-decency could even attempt to pretend to be a pastor is beyond me.

Of course, it happens on the right as well, as all these political "pastors" really need to get their heads rescrewed on. Using the pulpit to gain political power is straight from the pit of hell, and about as far away from a mustard seed revolution as anyone can get. They are aren't just missing the boat, they're at the wrong port.

Get Ready to Redefine Your Idea of an Athlete!

Swimmer Girl competed in her first swim meet!!!! It was held at the Rec Center on the Campus of Miami University in Oxford.











Saturday afternoon she swam in the 50 meter freestyle heat -- and timed in at 1:35.80.





Then on Sunday, she swam in the 50 meter backstroke heat with a time of 1:33.70!




We are so incredibly proud of Swimmer Girl, a little girl who was never even supposed to walk and has one less arm to propel herself through the water than all the other swimmers! Only God knew what a treasure was waiting for us in that little orphanage in Vinnitza, Ukraine...

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; be not frightened, neither be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

What Would You Do If Someone Told You...

My husband brought home a nice little children's picture book about the life of Elizabeth Cady Stanton (of the suffrage movement). It's been very interesting reading it to my girls because it has really shown a vast difference in personality.

Last week, Swimmer Girl and I read the book together. Snuggled nicely on the couch, I started to read the first page:

"What would you do if someone told you you couldn't be what you wanted to be because you were a girl --"

"What?!" Swimmer Girl shrieked. "That's insane! Who would think such an incredibly stupid thing? What would give them the right? I would just do what God called me to do anyway! I wouldn't listen to them, and if I did it would only be to tell them that they're wrong..."

I couldn't get a word in edge-wise, and after her indignation wore off, I finally finished reading the book. It's probably a good thing for the men in this country that the suffrage movement happened long before she arrived on the scene. She's a force I really wouldn't want to offend.

Then, yesterday, I was reading the book with my younger two, Nappy and Princess Ballerina. I started off again, "What would you do if someone told you you couldn't be what you wanted to be because you were a girl."

Then I waited for a reaction. None. Nappy was busy looking at the pictures and the Princess Ballerina was just sitting there with a completely docile look on her face.

"Well," I asked her, "What do you think?"

"What?" she replied.

"Well, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"A zoo keeper!! I really really really want to be a zoo keeper!" She emphatically answered.

I must admit I was a little shocked by this dramatic change from wanting to be a princess to wanting to be someone who cleaned up animal poo. Something tells me that she doesn't understand that being a zoo keeper means a bit more than snuggling cute baby animals.

"What if someone told you you couldn't be a zoo keeper because you were a girl?"

"Oh, well, then I'd just pick something else. I mean, maybe they're right. I don't know. I just know it's not worth arguing about. "

Needless to say we had a nice little discussion about how some things are worth arguing about.

Several days later, we were driving in the car, and the topic came up again. Nappy said, to the Princess Ballerina, "What would you do if someone told you you couldn't be what you wanted to be because you were a girl?"

"I know I know..." she replied with great resignation, "I'd have to argue with them, because some arguments are worth it, and I shouldn't do something different just because I'm a girl, even if I'd rather not argue and just pick a different job."

"Well," replied Nappy, "I'd just whap 'em and then be happy."

Three girls. Three different hair colors. Three different attitudes. And all three are mine!

First Adam, Now Alex

First Adam Race is told he can't participate in Mass and now Alex Barton is voted out of Kindergarten! What does this say about inclusion in our culture?

Alex Barton, a 5 year old who had been attending Kindergarten at Morningside Elementary School in Port St. Lucie Florida, was voted out of his class in an overwhelming 14-2 election, this past week. It would've been 12-4, but the teacher bullied two of his friends into voting against him.

Apparently, Alex, who is in the process of being diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (basically a high functioning form of Autism), has been a bit of a behavior problem in class. So, in an unprecedented act of classroom management, his teacher, Wendy Portillo, brought Alex up to the front of the classroom and proceeded to have each of the students tell him what they didn't like about him. Then she had them vote to determine if Alex could stay in the class.

Alex lost.

In my opinion, they all lost because no matter how difficult a child is, your child has to learn how to deal with him if you want your child to grow up into an adult that can handle the realities of living in a diverse culture. Apparently, Ms. Portillo never learned that lesson. I sure don't want my kids to grow up to be like her!

So, now Alex, who was so shaken up by the incident he was sent to the nurses office where his mother retrieved him, has been sitting around his house saying, "I'm not special". Apparently he was told he was "annoying" and "disgusting." I don't think the educational experts of Florida, really understand just how cruel and injurious being humiliated in front of your peers actually is.

When I was in 7th grade, my lovely school, Howland Junior High School (North Eastern Ohio), held a pep rally. The day before we were instructed to to wear orange and black, the school colors, or we would not be admitted to the rally. That night I laid out my clothes. I didn't own any orange clothes, so I laid out some that were blue and black. Blue and black were not good enough for our spirit-filled school. So, instead of denying me entrance to the rally, they had me and a handful of other kids walk in front of the entire junior high class body-- while the other 200-plus kids booed us. It was incredibly humiliating, and I have an inkling of understanding for what Alex is probably feeling.


Another incident it brought to mind was when I was doing my student teaching, many years ago, at Roberts Paideia Academy (a gem in the Cincinnati Public Schools). During recess one afternoon, I stood by and watched as the special education teachers laughed at a developmentally handicapped boy who was trying to figure out how to jump rope. His big brown eyes were just sparkling with excitement as he tried to figure out which way to move his arms over his head to move the rope. He looked at his teacher for encouragement.

"Come on, idiot" she said, "Just put your hands up and flip the rope over!"

Then she and the other teacher stood there and laughed at the "idiot" who was too much of a "dumb***" to figure out how to jump rope.

Yes, the very people who were supposed to be advocating him, encouraging him to try new things, and celebrating his successes were instead calling him names and making fun of him.

And, yet, people wonder why I won't send my kids to public school!


The school system should be all over this, but, of course, they won't be. In addition to the fact that if she's a NEA member, she's nearly impossible to fire (remember: there are no bad teachers -- not even one's that vote kids out of the class!), they won't be because the fact of the matter is that this teacher crossed this line because she hasn't had the training or support necessary to understand how to work with a student who has behavioral problems -- be it from a disability or for any other reason -- and they know it. It's the same thing as Adam Race's priest. Those working with these kids aren't equipped and no one in charge cares enough to equip them.

In the meantime, it would be beneficial for the Morningside School District to understand that some day cute little Alex will be a 13 year old boy who, hopefully, will have had the appropriate interventions necessary to have a healthy happy life. The current road they've sent him down is sure to produce the opposite, and somebody will be dealing with that.

Birthday Boy

Well, this is several days later than I planned. For Rob's birthday, we got to celebrate by taking Lawyer/Social Advocate Boy to the hopsital for a tonsillectimy/adnoidectomy. What a way to celebrate! Now, he's back at the ER with him because Lawyer/Social Advocate Boy has not been drinking water like he told us -- he didn't lie, he just took micro-sips of water so over the course of yesterday only drank about 2 ounces when we thought he drank several cups -- and woke up bleeding from his mouth. Ugh.

Anyway, my wonderful husband turned 39 on Friday. My mom turned 75 on that day too. But she's away touring the Middle East right now, so she doesn't get a birthday blog entry. People who get to tour the Middle East don't get featured on my blog for their birthdays, because they get the special treat of going to the Middle East. Although how much of a treat that is might be debatable in some circles. I, personally, would rather go to the Middle East than be on my blog.

So, for Rob's birthday we had our traditional birthday apple pie, which totally derailed Nappy because you're supposed to have birthday cake, not pie, and she doesn't like apple pie. This is an issue for her, because really, from her perspective, all birthdays are celebrated in her honor. Now, in his honor, I will tell you a bit about my wonderful husband, Rob.

When I met Rob he was in his 20s and I was still a teenager. Scandalous! Okay, I was just shy of turning 20 and he was 23. But still. Well, this might have been scandalous, but he was so shy that I hadn't even realized that I had met him. I told him, later, it was because of the beard, the flannel shirt, and the jean jacket he always wore. Being the kind of college student that was studying classical piano, I hadn't really pondered young men who dressed like they listened to heavy metal. I kind of had my head in the clouds, or more, precisely, in a practice room at CCM, and he just kept coming around.

"Oh well," I thought, "what harm... it's not like I'm going to marry him."

Fast forward three years later, and we were married. He might have been shy, but he was persistent.

So, Rob is a very quiet, persistent guy who has a history of listening to heavy metal. He's also very intelligent. Sometimes this is good -- like it made it possible for him to finish graduate school and get a job, and, even after nearly 13 years of marriage, I still enjoy having conversations with him. Sometimes this is bad -- like when we're arguing about something. I would find that much easier if he just weren't very smart. He also likes to read philosophy, history, fantasy and the occasional geeky sci-fi or action book. Because he likes to read history he's got me hooked on historical fiction, some history non-fiction reading. I even actually read an occasional Star Trek novel.

But, no matter how persuasive he can be, he will never get me to like "Dr. Who". Some things don't even deserve to be an acquired taste.

He does still like some heavy metal, and I do have to say that he has corrupted Lawyer/Social Advocate Boy, who used to be my prized piano student but is now spending his time (while avoiding drinking water) studying electric guitar. However, he also has acquired a taste for both classical and jazz, and most recently, this interesting kind of avant guard folk music that he brought home from the library.


I realized what a gem he was when we were dating and it was winter. He lived in a house full of guys. The guys were nice, the house wasn't. It was a real slum and his room was freezing cold. There was actually no heat in the room. I lived in a pretty nice house with my roommates, and had an attic bedroom. It did get chilly, but I was whiny and complained about how cold I was. I came home from class and found his space heater plugged in and heating my room. He's been consistently that thoughtful for our entire marriage.

He also really loves Jesus. He's been willing to follow God to orphanages in Ukraine and Kazakstan and didn't run out of the room screaming when we realized we'd be working with the secret police on our last adoption. In fact, all we could both do was sit there and laugh. The first time he flew, let alone ever left the country was when we traveled to Ukraine for our first adoption. You would just have to say, too, that he's very brave.

He's also quite good looking.

In addition to all that, he has a great sense of humor. Here you can see his annual beard removal tradition:

First the "Amish Beard." He actually tried to kiss me with his beard like this! It was like being pursued by Abraham Lincoln or Dwight Shrute's brother, Mose. Freaky. We contemplated video taping him running around the yard like Mose, but thought the neighbors already find us unusual enough.






Next came the goatee.













I challenged him to keep it like this for several days, but he didn't. Next year the progression will go: full beard, full goatee, handlebar moustache.





In the course of our marriage he's completed college, graduate school, worked as a librarian, traveled, adopted children, been with me while I birthed children (didn't even get woozy!) been a great dad, helped me with advocating adoption, researched things for our family, being a computer techie kind of guy, read volumes of books to our children and has always been my best friend.

And, he does the laundry.

Not bad for a guy who once told me his motto is, "Never be in a hurry unless you're on your way to relax."


So, Happy Birthday Honey!

That Child (Known to Christ as Adam Race)

In case you haven't yet heard, there is controversy swirling around the country regarding a Catholic priest in Minnesota that has filed a restraining order against a 13-year-old boy who is severely autistic. A full article can be found here, and I find this situation troubling to say the least.

The situation is still sketchy at best. For instance, the press has not detailed what kinds of accommodations that the church has offered to the family, and the family is claiming that there were no complaints until the day that the priest showed up at their house. Obviously, something is amiss here with information.

There are some facts that weigh in on the side of the church:

1) Adam Race has severe behavioral problems, far beyond what people normally experience in a crowd.
2) Adam Race is large and can be dangerous to the people around him
3) Some of Adam's problems can probably be remedied with certain accommodations, but, in general Adam will probably always have unpredictable behavior.

However, here are some facts that weigh in against the church:

1) Adam is a child of God
2) It is NOT Adam's fault that he is severely autistic
3) Even if some of Adam's behavior is poor parenting, it is, again, not his fault.
4) While church is a public place, whether protestant or catholic, it is more than that. For crying out loud, if a church can't be inclusive then what can be?

I've read blog posts where people are trying to compare this to taking him to the movie theaters, and all I can say to that is: it is not the same, and to even compare the two shows a real lack of understanding of what the purpose of church/worship is, let alone what Christianity is.

I've read blog posts and comments where people are claiming his parents haven't parented him. To that, I would respond: it doesn't matter. Shouldn't the church be seeking even more involvement if that's the case?

I've read blog posts and comments where people are claiming that the family should just go to mass separately. To that I would say that that does nothing to help the spiritual growth of the family, or the spiritual growth of his parent's marriage. There's already enough stress on the family, should they be split for church? Shouldn't their priest be concerned with the health of their family? I also don't think the entire family should be kept from mass. That's a sure way to lose the other 5 siblings from the faith!

I've read blog posts and comments where people are stating that the parents should simply control him better. To that, I would have to say that they probably don't understand his disability.

I'm not denying that his behavior is probably out of control and intervention is necessary. I'm also not doubting that he can function better at church. However, why is the church not willing to explicitly state the "accommodations" offered to the Race family unless those accommodations were not really realistic or useful? Why has the church not addressed the issue of how Adam got the car keys to get into a car and "rev" the engine? Has the church never had an elderly person wet their pants in a pew? What about a toddler or a preschooler? For that matter, has anyone ever vomited in the church? There are signs, many signs, that the church has not attempted to create an environment or situation Adam could be successful in.

Another thing that really bothers me with this situation is how the diocese refers to him as "that child" -- there's no grace, no mercy, no sadness over the fact that they can't meet their parishioner's need. He's not Adam Race, child of God, he's "that child" -- the bad one, the one that wets his pants in the pew, the one that behaves inappropriately. They are coming off as completely blind to the fact that he's the child that his parents are trying to teach to relate to God, something that must be an enormously difficult task considering that people with autism suffer socially and, often times, relationally.


It also strikes me as wrong (and unscriptural) to involve the police and the courts with this matter, especially when, from all appearances, the church has done little to work with the family. I happen to believe that getting involved would be the very thing that Jesus would do. If the church would present themselves, specifically, as having tried all avenues possible to help Adam connect with God and help nurture his family's spiritual growth and ability to worship together, if the church had done everything they could do to ensure a safe environment (that would mean the parishioners NOT leaving keys in the car), and Adam posed a safety threat, then it might merit involving the civil authorities. But as it stands, it really looks like this priest just wanted to wash his hands of an uncomfortable parishioner.

Yet, this is just a symptom of a greater problem. Something like only 5% of the disabled population attends church on a regular basis. Why is this? Christians misunderstanding of disabilities (God made you special!) and desire to see every person with a disability healed whether they want to or not, would probably play one of the biggest roles. Lack of respect for the abilities of the disabled also plays a part. However, discrimination like we're seeing here is certainly a key component of the problem. People will say that banning him from mass doesn't mean that you're not loving him, but all I can say to that is: bull-loney!!!!! Being excluded from something for reason's beyond your control is NOT love. If you think it is, I'd prefer you'd never love me or my family!

Here, after years of believing that everyone was valuable to God -- everyone: the prostitute, the demon-possessed, the poor, the cheater, the rapist, the pornographer, the drug dealer, the doctor, the pastor, the missionary, the engineer, the teacher, the nurse, etc. we're seeing a situation where one finds that you truly can be bad enough to get kicked out of church. For the sake of many parents out there, I hope that bored little boys who attend that parish don't find out about this -- they just might have found their ticket to a more interesting Sunday morning! Be really bad in Mass and then the priest will kick you out!

In many Christian's minds, not just this one priest, there is a hierarchy, and that makes not only the disabled feel unwelcome, but the parents of children who don't behave well unwelcome too.

I mean, how bad is "too bad"? Where is it appropriate to draw the line?

Despite the horrible behavior, despite his large size and despite the fact that he can be dangerous, Adam Race was still made in the image God. Adam Race's life has the ability to reflect God's glory, even though this corrupted creation has done everything it can to hide that. How incredibly sad that "that church" is not grieving over what they couldn't do, grieving over Adam's losses, and earnestly looking for a solution that serves him and his family rather than their convenience. And how embarrassing that they felt the need to involve civil authorities on a matter that they should've been able to solve on their own.

What is so incredibly sad about this, to me, is that the Catholic Church has always been such a beacon of light regarding the sanctity of life, both of the unborn and the disabled. Why would a priest seek to snuff that light out? I hope that the righteous in the Catholic Church will stand up to this priest, and I pray that those that love Jesus will out shine this one man who simply has a completely different agenda.