JACKSON — My son John and I recently attended a packed book signing at Millsaps recital hall.
“In a Different Key: The Story of Autism” is written by two accomplished journalists, John Donvan and Caren Zucker. At 650 pages, it is by far the most comprehensive popular book on autism.
As it turned out, sitting next to us was Donald Triplett, age 82, from Forest, Miss. He is the first person in the world to be diagnosed with autism.
As a young child, Triplett’s parents agonized about what to do. They were confused. There were no answers to their child’s condition. At one point, they sent him to an institution before rejecting this solution. They never gave up, and their effort became the start of a world movement to understand autism.
Over time, Donald learned to drive, was graduated from Millsaps, has traveled to dozens of countries and loves golf. He is well known and popular in Forest.
Afterward, John and I were able to talk to Donald Triplett. At the end of the conversation, my son John shook his hand, looked him in the eye and said, “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Your life has been an inspiration to me.”
It was a perfect moment, coming together in a way that seemed providential. You see, the Emmerich family knows the word autism in a very personal way.
I asked John several times if it was OK to tell our story. “Sure, go ahead,” he said. “Just be sure to get the diagnosis right.”
Indeed, understanding the nature of autism is what this outstanding book is all about. Autism, after centuries of being swept under the rug and misunderstood, is finally coming out into the open. As the diagnosis has expanded, now as many as one in 50 children is considered to be on the autistic spectrum.
The key is the word spectrum. Autism is a different way the brain works. Its pattern is clearly diagnosable, yet it manifests itself in as many ways as there are people. In its worst forms, it is a horror, leading to low intelligence, inability to speak and violent seizures. In its best form, it is a gift, leading to some of the greatest advances of mankind.
For centuries, severely autistic children were locked away and forgotten. Parents were told to think of their other children and move on with their lives. Mildly autistic children were labeled nerds, eccentrics or geniuses. Einstein exhibited classic autistic symptoms, not speaking until age 4.
Autism comes from the Greek word “autos,” meaning self. Autistic children seem to lack the normal ability to interact naturally with others. Instead, they are in a world of their own. Some never come back.
For decades, this was blamed on the mothers, termed “refrigerator moms.” The prevailing psychiatric wisdom was that cold-hearted mothers caused the syndrome. Tragically, mothers were required to undergo therapy as well as the children. Later research proved this to be nonsense.
The book does an excellent job of charting the world’s progress in understanding autism, using poignant examples of children and parents refusing to surrender to the prevailing attitudes of ignorance.
In the end, the greatest advances have come in the last 20 years, dovetailing the rise of the Internet, which allowed parents from all over the world to share stories and resources. Humanity is better for this.
Like many people, I had almost no understanding of autism when John was born.
As so often is the case, he progressed normally until about 18 months, at which point he seemed to forget the 20 or so normal words he had learned and quit speaking entirely.
For the next two years, he would point and grunt. He seemed transfixed by shapes and lights and sounds. He was unaware of others around him and would stare out into space.
My wife Ginny was devastated. Being ever the optimist, I kept telling her that some kids develop differently and not to worry.
I remember speaking of John optimistically to a dear friend. As I spoke, tears began streaming down her face. She thought I was in total denial.
Then one day, we were driving down the road and John spoke for the first time in years. “Turn right on Meadowbrook Road,” he said perfectly.
Ginny and I looked at each other in shock. Then John proceeded to read all the street signs as we passed. He could not only speak, he had somehow taught himself to read. That was the beginning of the most strange and remarkable behavior.
He would spin for 30 minutes at a time. He talked like a little professor. He could hardly bear direct sunlight. He ran screaming at the sound of flushing toilets. He would hide under tables rather than leave the house. No amount of discipline could alter his behavior. He had no interest in other children. His ability to memorize was unbelievable. He would become mesmerized by inanimate objects. His hearing was off the charts.
And there were the excruciating meltdowns. Only parents of autistic children can ever truly understand.
As he grew older, he would be obsessed with various subjects. At age 7, he started learning everything he could about physics. After riding on a big roller coaster, I came home to find 100 pages of physics equations on a notepad. He had looked up the roller coaster on Wikipedia and calculated the momentum, force, speed and every other physical aspect of his ride by applying physics equations.
He taught himself ancient Gaelic and would speak it to us. At age 10, he read and memorized a medical textbook on biochemistry. His visual IQ tested genius level. His sense of direction was uncanny. I could write a book on his bizarre and unbelievable abilities and behavior.
All the while, I was constantly having to correct him in public, “John, please stop the inappropriate vocalizations,” as a variety of weird sounds would come from his mouth, seemingly oblivious to those around him.
Once a member of my church took me aside. “You know,” he said. “Most fathers would have written off a child like John.” I was both hurt and challenged by his comment.
Thank God for New Summit School. When we were politely but firmly asked to withdraw John from his private school at age 7, New Summit joyfully embraced his uniqueness and gave him a great education.
During puberty, John decided he didn’t want to grow up and would walk around with his legs bent trying to pretend to be smaller. Then he decided he wanted to join the Boy Scouts. I could see the fear in the scoutmaster’s eyes the first day we showed up. In the end, Scoutmaster Neil Payne and the entire Troop 302 became crucial to bringing John out of his shell. They befriended John and became some of his biggest fans.
When John finally desired social interaction, he was hopelessly behind. So everywhere I went, I dragged John along — dinners, parties, newspaper conferences, the Rotary Club, work, any place he could interact with people. Slowly but surely, his conceptual abilities were able to compensate for his lack of intuitive social skills. We turned a vicious downward cycle into a positive upward cycle.
I am running out of space. Suffice to say, John learned to swing, ride a bike, drive and even ski.
A big part of this miracle were the many people in this community who, like Ginny and me, embraced and encouraged John, just like the community of Forest did for Donald Triplett. Equally as important is John’s God-given spirit, which I believe is distinct from the unique structural attributes of his brain. It is a spirit of determination, curiosity, faith, kindness and love.
Autistic brains are simply wired differently. At its worst, autism is a terrible condition. But in its milder forms, it is a gift. I wouldn’t change one thing about John nor would he. It is this attitude and understanding of autism that the book promotes. As a society, we need to celebrate our diversity, not condemn it.
Just a few weeks ago, John received a four-year academic scholarship to Millsaps. The boy that wouldn’t talk won’t shut up. To me, it is nothing short of a miracle.
Emmerich is editor and publisher of The Northside Sun in Jackson and president of Emmerich Newspapers.
