Following the “rules of blog” – I sometimes share moments from then (we have 27 years of material to choose from) and I share moments from now. If I leave you with a question in this down syndrome blog, feel free to ask it. If I leave you with a revelation, feel free to share it. If I post a general rant or big news that has nothing to do with Marcus, well, that’s the blogger’s prerogative.
Here are some blogs or subjects to start with. Or just scroll down for our most recent adventures!
Don’t tell me it’s “just a show.” The threat that there are humans who desire to eliminate those who are, “nothing like the rest” is and always has been real.
It's that inclination to rant or work something out that leads me to what I now know is called "self-talk." I also work through questions and answers when I'm working on a tricky problem, be it in reality or fiction, and there's always a lot of self-talk going on in the car with my steering wheel. You don't even want to know what I say to my computer.
Marcus used to ask who I was talking to, now he doesn't bother.
So, when Marcus followed suit with his own self-talk, I wasn't alarmed. And I certainly never thought of it as part of Down syndrome.
The prompt today is “Love (a free-write)”. Free-writes are by nature personal and rambling.
Also, because my laptop is having issues, we’re going Avant Garde with punctuation. The question mark will be signified with /.
Enter at your own risk.
Of the 468 blogs currently on my website, the search term “love” brings up 233 results. Of those, 12 “headlines” include love in the title. So, yeah, I’ve been known to talk about love.
To start with, there’s “WHAT ONE YOUNG MAN WITH DOWN SYNDROME WANTS YOU TO UNDERSTAND.” The story of how Marcus helped me through a tough conversation way back in 2014. Before he gave speeches, before we had book tours, #Truth. #TheAnswerIsLove
“We can still come back and win. It’ll only take 2 touchdowns and a field goal,” I said to my grandfather during one of the many brutal football bowl games of my childhood.
“No. They won’t.” He sat with his arms crossed, defeat accepted, but he still watched the game to the end.
“You’re a pessimist.” I moved to the floor in front of the TV.
“I’m a realist,” he said.
A Pessimist, an Optimist, a Realist
“A realist,” he explained to me, “doesn’t think the worst will happen every time, as a pessimist does. A realist takes life for what it is and accepts the whole package. A realist doesn’t invest worry and emotion into a lost cause; a realist deals with what is real.”
The other day I