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Y’all knew from our August letter that Cathy and I moved ourselves this time. We reasoned that if people were going to bust up our junk, it shouldn’t be strangers. We couldn’t fit the autistic family’s collection in a 24 ft Ryder, so we loaded Big Red with the bulky items. These we later donated to motorists along I40 between Tijeras Canyon and Tucumcari. The easy part of the move was knowing exactly were to put everything in the “new” house (out at the curb, mostly).
Luke and Kate are back at Eagleton Elementary. Kate’s Mark Twain Elementary send off was a pleasant surprise. We tend to think of Luke as social and Kate as aloof. However, the “what to miss about Kate” poster from her Special Ed and “regular” second grade classes showed that she made a positive impression out West. Muscle and bone tired as I was from three days of packing, the image of Kate as a butterfly almost made me weep.
We got back in the Southeast in time for Bubba and the Butterfly to complete another softball season. Luke actually fielded a few pops to right field while ol’ Kate played in the grass and dirt. They finished out the school year with familiar teachers, but started 1999/2000 with new ones.
We acquired a retired racing greyhound shortly after returning to the “greenest state in the land of the free.” Cimarron (named after a pass and town in New Mexico, as fate would have it) came house broken and (since he turned 7 in August) well over the puppy cute nuisance stuff. He’s a super-mellow dog. So in October, when a mate became available, we got Fawn. She’s 8 and wasn’t a racer very long; it wasn’t a stellar career, we hear. They tolerate Kate beautifully and give Luke another reason to exercise. Of course, Cathy is autistic family pack “alpha.”
Luke (like his father) doesn’t talk unless he absolutely has to. Like when his cousin was sleeping over and talking into the night until he finally said, “Shup!” (that’s “shut up” as one word). He stopped cutting up our shoe laces, but the latest fads are pointing all knobs in the house to 12 o’clock and locking all doors. He reminds us of Jack Nicholson’s character in “As Good As It Gets.” Even so, he’s not as impulsive as he used to be.
Unfortunately Kate’s the runner now (ambler, truthfully). Whenever the Blount County Deputies and blood hounds need to practice road gang retrieval, Sheriff Berrong calls us.
Kate’s still a main entrée dinner eater, subsisting on meat, popsicles, and sometimes poptarts. She talks a lot and babbles almost constantly when she’s in a good mood. Saying “two” after someone says “one” is the latest, though she still says “Kate” and “Good girl” and sometimes says the names of classmates. She’s making progress on the toileting, too, and this is good because diapers for an 8-year-old are a budget buster.
Point of clarification on the brain donations mentioned last letter. Some of the cousins were concerned that Cathy and I would so easily give away Luke and Kate’s brains. If it wasn’t obvious last letter, I did mean once they weren’t using them anymore.
Something feels right about East Tennessee. Albuquerque was convenient. We lived and I worked right in the city itself. A mall was within walking distance, and the state’s autism chapter was there. But Cathy’s side of the family is here and, flaming introverts that we are, driving to see people isn’t such a hardship. I met my 92 year old grandmother-in-law for the first time and she told me I look 16. Then she had to ruin it by saying she thinks she looks 50.
Is 2000 really here?
Have a great year.
- The Autistic Family
lukate@charter.net