Hardship, Hope, and Family

HARDSHIP, FAMILY, AND HOPE
Spark of Hope
A beacon of rope was anchored from the top,
As the challenge of climbing a steep mountain seem insurmountable.
To accomplish my mission of my life,
I was provided with the support to make me able.
Just when the tunnel of an underpass got too dark to see,
A spark of light began to glimmer from the opening on the other side.
No matter how tough things may get,
Things could change to put the worries aside.
Being without the means to communicate,
And not being able to respond to the words of others,
It would had been very unbearable,
Without any loving support of family and others.
It was the persistence from my loving family members,
To provide supports, opportunities, and rewards,
Which encouraged me to crack the shell of my inner prison,
And develop hope to move forward.
To compensate for my lack of language before I became verbal, I developed my visual sense to take in information about my world and learn about my environment.  I have an excellent memory and remember a lot from my early childhood on.  My loving family helped instill a great deal of hope in me, which sustain me through my challenges.
My earliest memories in my life are very vague, as would be expected.  It felt like as if all at sudden, somebody grabbed hold of my head facing up and pulled me out of my dark comfort zone shelter.  As I was being born, I looked up at the ceiling lights and felt very awesome.  The lights, spanks, and vaccinations were scary.  I came into the world as Deborah Ivy Myers in New York City.  My mother told me that I had a weak cry at birth, as if I was somewhat withdrawn already.  Both my mother and I were stressed out--it was a very hot and humid day, which was miserable for her.
From one perspective, I was an easy baby--I wasn't too demanding.  I didn't ask for a lot of attention.  But, my mother felt that I was more withdrawn than her other children.  My mother was also concerned that I didn't have as much eye contact with others as I should have.

With my superior visual memory, I remember doing a few things in our duplex unit in the West Bronx, where we lived until I was two years old.  I recall waking up in the middle of the night in my crib crying for a bottle.  The couple of minutes it took for my mother to bring my bottle seemed like a long while to me.  I recall crawling everywhere within the apartment, and grabbing hold of chairs and an ottoman as support for standing myself up.
I also have memories of playing with some toys in the unit--animals of laminated wood on wheels that I pulled along, and building things with sets of blocks.  The former, especially the duck, made a quacking type of noise.  These toys enabled me to gain a sense of control and mastery of new skills which were good for me in an environment where I had no control without communication skills.
I remember going in and out of our place through the porch with red cement flooring.  Even though I wasn't able to communicate yet, I was very aware of my surroundings--much more than anyone could have imagined.  It was much easier to process information from the environs than from other people.  Whenever we traveled by bus or car I enjoyed looking out the windows and watching the change of scenery.

When I was around nine months old, I began to provide my folks some more hope, which was unfortunately short-lived--I babbled and giggled for only a short period in my infancy, until I stopped when I was about a year old.  I became less responsive and more withdrawn.  I had yet to learn to walk.  This was when my family started to suspect that something was wrong with me.  I remember the frustration of my inability of learning what others would say to me.  Though I heard speech sounds, my brain wasn't able to process them (central auditory processing deficit).  The auditory area in my brain was like a poorly adjusted antenna of a radio where the signals received become static or sounds indistinguishable.  It was though people were speaking in a foreign language that I could never learn.
I became so discouraged that it was much easier for me to withdraw into my private world than to face the struggle of trying to learn to communicate.  So whenever I wanted something, I resorted to screaming for it.  It was frustrating for me whenever it would take a while for others to figure out my needs--since I wasn't able to express them effectively.
Since I couldn't learn the language through listening, my family initially thought maybe I was deaf--so I was taken to the doctor for testing.  This was ruled out, since I did respond to noise.  In addition, based on my creations of elaborate designs with crayons, blocks, and other toys--it was determined that I wasn't mentally retarded.

In addition to my learning difficulty, I exhibited several bizarre behaviors--mostly repetitious, such as rocking and pacing.  I used to rock back and forth a lot, since I was about a year old.  When I learned to walk, I paced diagonally across the living room for long periods.  These activities were meditative and made me calmer.  As I performed, I remain in my trances continuously.  While I was in my trances my mind wandered into various objects that were in my environment (home), such as furniture and toys, and the shadows that were formed by the sunshine.  I also looked out the window to watch the clouds form various shapes, the trees rustle in the breeze, and the other children play outside.  I also made repetitious sound over and over again--"dah, dah,...dah".
When I was about two and a half years old, I was diagnosed with infantile autism--due to a lack of communicative skills and my stereotypic repetitious behaviors.  Autism is a neurological disorder in which there is a lack of communicative and socialization skills, and problems with sensory processing.  Apparently, I inherited this from my father who had autistic characteristics.  The brain functions differently by taking in and processing information from either of the senses differently.  The auditory sense is usually the most affected--as in me.  I had always had a slight sensitivity to high-pitch sounds, but it was never too bad unless the noise was loud.  It is common in autism and related disorders that the infant doesn't demand enough--even when there is distress as was characteristic during my infancy.
Common to autism and related disorders, I was delayed in developing gross motors skills, such as walking and toilet training.  I didn't learn to walk until I was well over a year old.  I was already over three years old until I was potty trained.  Even after I was trained, I often had accidents when we would go out, since I was not able to communicate the need for a rest room.

In an attempt to help me, my parents hired a woman to come to our place a few days each week to work with me.  She took out various toys, including block sets and puzzles to determine my skills.  I also did some drawings and coloring with crayons.  I exhibited extraordinary artistic talent for my age in block design and drawing.  I lacked good eye-contact skills with other people since I wasn't able to relate to them and I focused my attention on things.  This social worker was nice to me.  But unfortunately, she was not able to get me to develop language skills.  All I remember of her was that she had dark hair and that she had a pleasant voice.
From the fall of 1960 to the spring of 1962, I went to a special preschool program for non-verbal children at the Jacobi Hospital in the Bronx.  My mother took me there by bus three mornings a week.  She used to stay and wait in the lobby until it was time to take me home.  My class was racially integrated with about ten children.  There were a few blacks and Hispanics, along with several whites including me.  But, I ignored all of my classmates, regardless of race, since I couldn't interact with them.  It was much easier to focus on the toys since they didn't demand any socialization.
In the class room, I played with all sorts of toys that were there, such as painted rubber hand puppets, puzzles, blocks, and a doll house with furniture and dolls.  The last was my favorite. I loved to play with toys that I could manipulate with my hands and utilize my creativity.

When I was about two years old, we moved into another apartment in a very old building.  It was blocks away from the Bronx Zoo.  My paternal grandparents lived in that apartment for years, and then moved out.  While we lived there, I remember taking naps on our love-seat--during a period in my growth when my height filled up its length of the seats.  This opened up to a bed that was used for company.  It was on this block where my parents met each other years earlier and found out that they had a common great-grandfather.  Their respective maternal grandmothers were half-sisters.
Often on our family walks, in our Italian neighborhood, we stopped to get Italian dessert ices of which chocolate were my favorite.  We went to the zoo and the Bronx Botanical Gardens and Park sometimes when the weather was nice.  Walking enabled me to reduce nervous tension from the frustrations of dealing with my disability.

I was born into a loving and highly intelligent family of an Ashkenazi Jewish background.  I was the third and youngest child of the family.  My sister, Gail, was six and a half years old.  My brother, Bobby, was almost four.  Gail was very close to me, since I was the same gender as her and besides I was very cute.  She kissed and caressed me a lot.  She took me almost everywhere in a stroller, usually with her friends.  I have fond memories of being pulled along in a baby carriage and a stroller with colorful plastic beads that I remember playing with.  Though I enjoyed hugs and back massages, I used to bite or push people away when there was too much closeness--especially too many kisses and tickles.  For example, when Gail kissed me too long, I bit her lips shut with my teeth.
Gail would often take me out with her friends.  We got together almost all the time with her best friend who was very cute and blonde.  Whenever Gail wasn't able to take me along, I used to cry and scream to express my disappointment of being left behind at home.  When I was a few years of age I began to feel lonely whenever my siblings went out to play without me, especially Gail since she often took me along.  Even though I wasn't able to communicate I enjoyed being with other children.  I sensed the love, warmth, and acceptance of my siblings and their friends.  Gail selected only girls who accepted me since she wanted to include me along in her outings.  Since I wasn't able to socialize and make friends on my own, I was dependant on my siblings for company.  In addition, when we were home, Gail played clapping games with me, such as "Pat-a-Cake," and a few others.
I have memories during the summer, occasionally, of a mobile amusement park and carnival on wheels parked on our street.  I was too afraid to go on any of the rides.  I was too out of it to participate in the carnival.  But, I still enjoyed the excitement and festivities around me.  I watched all the neighborhood kids have fun. I felt the jubilation in the air.  At other times, Gail and her friends played outside a lot.  They played jump-rope, hula hoops, and hopscotch.  I watched them a little bit.  Bobby also played outside with his friends, but played mostly ball games.
I played with a few of  Bobby's toys, which included brightly painted metal tops, a blue metal gyroscope, wooden yo-yos, and a rector set.  The rector set consists of all metal sheets in various sizes with holes in these and nuts and bolts to hold them together.  Bob also had a nice electric racing car set with an eight-shaped track.  I played with him with this toy occasionally for fun only, not for competition.
When Bob was in first grade, he loved animals and wanted a dog very much.  So, one winter day, my mother took Bob and I to the animal shelter for a dog.  We picked out a  medium sized, golden brown female dog.  She was around ten months old.  She was believed to be of a collie/ spits mixture.  She responded to us with warmth and excitement.  We named her "Honey" because of her color.  She also had some little white areas on her tail and on her abdominal area.  This was Bob's gift.  He agreed to take on the responsibilities of raising a dog, such as feeding it and taking it out for walks.  He was very responsible for his age.  Honey was very smart.
She must have sensed my disability.  Even though I played too rough with her, such as poking her with pencils and pulling her tail, she tolerated me.  She never growled nor bit me. I loved her and used to pet her often.  I had a greater affinity towards her than other people since it was much easier to relate to her as she didn't command understanding of complex social skills.  I felt that she loved me unconditionally no matter how disabled I was.  I also felt a release of nervous tension whenever I petted her. 
Grandma Rae, my maternal grandmother, helped out our family very often with baby-sitting and cooking.  Once a month, she came and stayed with us for a week.      Whenever she planned to go away, she prepared plenty of meals beforehand for her husband, Grandpa Aaron, since he didn't cook.  Grandma Rae was very loving and caring.  She loved to feed us.  She was very good to me as well to others.  I remember when I was little; she fed me cod liver oil, for vitamins A and D, through a dropper.  Unlike most other children, I liked the taste.  She was very broad boned and short with a tiny lap.  Her growth was stinted from rickets she had as a child from malnourishment.  She grew up in a large family in a Jewish ghetto (shetl) in Poland.
We often had Jewish ethnic foods including gefilte fish that consisted of ground up fish (pike, carp, and cod) that is cooked in its broth with carrots and celery.  It is served chilled with beet-colored horseradish and matzo.  A Jewish spread that my family had often was chopped liver salad--made of chicken livers, hard boiled egg, little bit of onion, and mayonnaise.  We took out hot-dogs and cold cuts from the delicatessen quite often.  We had chicken much more than beef.  Whenever Grandma Rae stayed with us, she always made home-made chicken soup with matzo balls (dumplings).  Occasionally, she made a flour product with beef filling (kreplach) to put in the soup, all from scratch--similar to ravioli.  We occasionally had a beet soup recipe (borscht) which was often served cold with sour cream.  Another Jewish dish we had regularly was Kasha (buckwheat) with flank steak--prepared like beef stew.  Closer to a beef stew, she made a meat dish with potatoes and vegetables (cholent) that was cooked over a slow heat for 24 hours.  We also had some sweet dishes such as; crepe-like product with a cottage cheese filling with apples, raisins, and cinnamon (blintzes), noodle pudding (kugel), and sweet potatoes cooked with prunes, raisins, and pie spices (tsimmes).  In addition, Grandma Rae used to bake ethnic products, such as sponge cake and egg bread rolls (challah).

I remember in the early 1960's, when my mother went back to school to take up early childhood education that Grandma Rae took care of me during the day.  Grandma used to bring doll-making kits, which involved the body to be cut out, sewed together, and stuffed.  The hair was made of braided yarn and glued on to the head.  Despite not being able to understand verbal cues and appeared to be in a world of my own I felt the warmth of my grandmother's love and that she cared for me very much.
She also took me out on walks to grocery stores for a little shopping.  I recall all the stores back in those days having wood floors.  Whenever, we went shopping, she always picked up cookies for me, such as Nabisco's Lorna Doones, Oreos, and Animal Crackers.  Sometimes we picked up food for ethnic things, such as freshly killed fish at a fish market for home-made gefilte fish that Grandma made from scratch.  We also used to buy whole cod, to be cut up for pan-grilling, and whitefish, that was marinated and served cold as a whole fish.  I loved her cooking.  Not only did she nourished my physically with food but also spiritually just as well with her soul and love.

Grandpa Aaron had brain damage from a bad fall on his head, when he was about three years old.  But, he was able to work in the shipping department in a clothing business, owned by members of his side of the family.  He used to act childish.  He never came to our place.  Occasionally, we visited them for the weekend, so we could see him too.  I had empathy for him as both he and I had disabilities though of a completely different nature.

Just across the street, my mother's uncle, Max Chasen and his wife, Ann lived in another very old apartment. Their fourth child, only about a year older than Gail, was nicknamed "Big Bob" to ease confusion as having the same name as my brother. Their second daughter, Gertrude,"Gitty" and granddaughter, Rose Ellen moved in with them when her husband deserted them.  Rose Ellen was born only three months before I was.  We were very close to them.  We joined them in all the Jewish holiday gatherings.
A few trips with my family were etched in my early childhood memories.  For example, I remember, faintly, when I was about four years old, we went to New Jersey for a large family reunion of the Chasen family.  Another outing that I remembered vaguely was when we stopped, on our way home from somewhere, and walked into a large building with huge rooms that contained a lot of tables or desks.  The walls were a pale blue-green.  We were there for only a few minutes for my father to pick up something.  It must have been his work place during that time.

My father had some autistic characteristics, although he was never diagnosed as a child.  He displayed autistic behaviors--nose picking in public, poor table manners, compulsive behaviors, imbalanced emotions, and social ineptitude.  Whenever he picked his nose at home, he rolled his fingers around and flicked them over an ashtray.  We would all get grossed out by this habit, especially when I was older and learned that this was socially unacceptable.  Right after he would be done eating at the table, he licked his plate or bowl.  This used to irk my mother, but any deviation of proper table manners never bothered me.  I inherited some of the things from him such as compulsions, poor table manners, and a lack of confidence in social situations.
He also exhibited some compulsive behaviors, such as persistence in finishing reading the newspaper or a chapter in a book, even if it would lead to leaving late to go places.  In addition, he felt that he had to do several last minute things, such as polishing shoes and ironing clothes.  This would make him or us even later to events or visiting people.  Both my mother and I used to get impatient with him when we were all ready to go and he still had many things to do yet.  My mother always wanted to get someplace early.
His speech was stuttery.  He was deficient in good social judgment.  Whenever we got together with people, he would monopolize a conversation in his field of interest and wouldn't give others a chance to talk.  He wasn't able to sense when people have heard enough of the topic.  He tended to talk excessively about a subject that nobody else is interested in.  His listening skills were very poor.
Like me, he also had a learning difference as a child.  Although he had superior math and engineering skills, he had a hard time in school with subjects that utilized verbal skills since he was weak in those areas.  In college, it took him as long as eleven years to complete all the requirements for the bachelors degree in electrical engineering from having to repeat some of the basic required courses in addition to working full time to support our family.  When he was employed as an engineer with the federal government, he stayed at the same grade for years and years.
He had never received promotions along with the other engineers who put in the same number of years of service as him.  It was his deficiency in his communicative skills that got in the way of making favorable impressions upon the employer that he could take on more responsibility.  He would have difficulty in supervising other employees as would be expected with positions with greater responsibilities.
Beneath his disability, I felt his love for the family, including me.  He had difficulty raising us children.  But, he tutored Gail in math and played ball games with Bob.  It was basically my mother who raised us since she didn't have autism.

Occasionally, my family and I went to visit my paternal grandparents, in their apartment in high rise housing project in Manhattan.  Sometimes, we had a family gathering of my father's side of the family with both of his brothers and their families.  Other times, we all met at the oldest brother's fancy apartment in an up scale area in Manhattan.  His name was Al.  He was twelve years older than my father, so they weren't that close.  He and his wife had only one daughter who was much older than Gail, so they didn't have any children close to our ages to play with.
My father's other brother, Jack, was nine years older than he and also lived in Queens.  He and his wife had three children close in ages to Gail, Bob, and me.  They had boy, girl, then another boy.  We got together with them a little bit more often.  When I was older, I played dolls with the girl who was two years older than me.  Bob played with the boys.

In spring 1962, we moved in to a two-bedroom apartment in Forest Hills, Queens.  The main reason for that move was so that we would live close enough for me to start a special school in Brooklyn the following school year.  The apartment, with only one bathroom, was cramped for five of us plus a dog.  Sometimes, there were even six of us whenever Grandma Rae stayed with us.  But, we managed since that was what we could afford back in those days.
Forest Hills was a Jewish neighborhood, which was nicer for us.  Our area was full of moderately tall apartment (mostly six to eight stories), including ours which had six.  There were a lot of Jewish bakeries and delicatessens within blocks away of which we often patronized.
One day when Gail took me shopping for groceries, which was around a half mile from our place--I walked out of the store as she was looking for something.  I wandered all over the neighborhood for hours.  I had already been through the area and the store several times with my family, so I knew my way around by then.  In addition, I had already an excellent sense of direction at the age of five years when this happened.  I also learned how to cross the streets from the family walks, in which we crossed numerous streets.  Luckily, I didn't need to deal with very busy streets and major intersections.  Moreover, I wandered into several apartment buildings and knocked on doors.  One woman who was very friendly let me in her unit and served me milk and cookies.  Then, I walked out and continued towards home.  It felt good to have the freedom to walk anywhere I wanted with any constraints by family members.  I was just happy-go-lucky to go along on my own without any concerns of the world.   
When I was just across the street from our building, my mother spotted me and ran to get me.  She yelled at me hysterically:  Since I lacked communication, everyone was even more concerned about my disappearance.  They all assumed that I was lost and didn't learn to watch out for cars while crossing streets.  There was no way of knowing since I didn't talk yet.  The police were called to search all over the area for me.  Everyone was so relieved when I finally came home.  I didn't feel lost since all of the streets were familiar.  Unfortunately, I wasn't able to foresee the great deal of worry this would cause my family and the community.

In addition, I got into some more mischief, such as throwing books out the window in our apartment that was all the way up in the sixth floor.  I did this my first time, just before our move, where there was only two floors.  Everyone was angry with me.  From then on, I learned not to do it again.
Not only did I throw books, I also threw Gail's brand new watch out the window, but from Grandma Rae's apartment that was much higher up (twelve stories).  Gail got this watch as a nice gift from graduating sixth grade or elementary school.  I was just fooling around.  The whole family was even angrier at me that time, since the loss was much greater.  I really felt remorseful, so that I have not thrown anything out the window since then.

During the summer, we used to take the bus to the Far Rockaway Beach on the Atlantic Ocean several times each season.  We took along our blankets and lay out in the sun for a few hours.  I enjoyed playing in the sand--building castles and other sculptures, drawing pictures, and burying my legs.  Whenever I got hot from the warm sun, I waded in the ocean to cool off.  I never went too far out into the water--I feared that the big waves would swallow me up.  So I wasn't interested in learning to swim, like most of the other children my age.
For a while, we had frequent get together with good friends, Rolly and Anita, of my folks.  They had three daughters--the oldest one was just a year older than me, and the other two were two and four years younger than me respectively.  I played mostly with the smallest girl who was a toddler then.  I related to her the most since I was closer to her level socially and her older sisters were already ahead of me.  The one-year-old girl and I felt a special affinity to each another on a level of the early stages of acquiring language skills.  We had picnics in a park together.
With the increased demands from raising a child with a disability it is very imperative that all of the family members receive adequate supports.  The challenges of caring for a person with a difference when very little was known about it, tended to effect the dynamics of the entire family including mine.  It was emotionally draining for my entire family, especially when I exhibited enigmatic behaviors and wasn't able to communicate.  Things would have been much tougher if we didn't get the generous supports from my grandmother, close friends, and community programs.  This enabled me to light the flames of my hope for progressing into other stages of my life.
“Which hope we have as an anchor at the soul, both sure and steadfast and which entereth into that within the veil.”  Hebrews 6:19