The Crab Chronicles

To Sleep Beneath the Sky

Today is not a typical day for us. My son went camping today. He is 26. He is a fully grown man, not a child. Yet, I was reminded of the first time he ever went camping, and all the feelings I had that day.

A little background. I adopted Michael when he was ten years old, from Kazakhstan. I already had adopted a little girl from Russia, and she needed a sibling, so I searched and searched on adoption agency websites until I found this little guy:

I wanted a special needs child. Michael is an amputee. His right hand was amputated when he was 5 years old, due to frostbite. His early life was filled with abuse, neglect, and violence. He was sent to the orphanage at age 8. The ladies there got to know what a smart, funny, kind little guy he was [and still is] and decided to help him find an American family. They knew in Kazakhstan he would have little chance at a normal life because no employer would hire him. So they reached out to an adoption agency and he was listed as adoptable and I saw the photo at left and knew he was my son.

When I went to Kazakhstan to meet him I had a unique advantage. A nonprofit, the Antares Foundation, worked in the area and I got to know two of the ladies who head up that organization and they got photos and information to me before I traveled.

Once I got to Kazakhstan and met him, I knew my instincts were right, and this little guy was my son. He is very smart. He is very loving. He was a leader among the kids. He had friends there. The caretakers truly cared about him. When I got him home in May of 2007 he cried several times, missing his friends. I couldn't do anything to comfort him, but he adjusted quickly. It helped that his older sister still spoke Russian and was able to translate for him.

I naively assumed there would be many things he couldn't do because he is an amputee. I was wrong. Over and over, he proved to me that having one hand was only an inconvenience, not a disability. He played soccer, tennis, and baseball. He loved games of all kinds, and sports. He was making jokes in English before he had been here six months.

In 2008, I was able to get him a prosthetic and we got to know the wonderful people in the Limb Difference Clinic at Children's Hospital. His physical therapist told him about the wonderful Adventure Amputee Camp that happens every summer. I registered Michael for camp and he was pleased about it. Kids with limb differences of all kinds get to have the same camp experience as non-disabled kids, and it's a wonderful place staffed by physical therapists, occupational therapists, and prosthetists -- in other words, adults not freaked out by being around a child missing a limb. The kids get to do all kinds of things, from hiking, water skiing, whitewater rafting, horseback riding, etc. I was sure Michael would have a blast.

The day came for him to go to camp. I woke him up and got his bag packed and we drove over to the hospital parking lot. There was a really nice bus, a top-of-the-line luxurious bus, not some crappy old school bus. We got out of the car and he saw Miss Colleen, his beloved Occupational Therapist. He saw the other kids. He decided he was NOT going to camp and I wasn't going to make him! He was showing me that he had bonded with me and the separation anxiety was getting the better of him. Now, that was very atypical behavior. We had very few discipline issues with him. He was a happy little guy, most of the time. I realized though that this wasn't about anything but separation anxiety. I sternly told him that he WAS going to camp. He WAS going to get on the bus. Period. No arguing. I was bigger and stronger and he knew I wasn't kidding.

Of course, he stomped on the bus, madder than dammit, and I got in the car and cried, wondering if I had made a huge mistake. I actually called Colleen later and she said "Dee he is FINE. He's made new friends. He's having a great time! Don't worry!" [below, Michael with Colleen and Brian, at Children's]

That did my heart good!

Five days after putting him on the bus to camp I was back in the hospital parking lot, anxiously watching for the bus, and when it got there I wondered if he would still be mad at me.

Nope.

Michael was the first one off the bus. Huge smile on his face. He was waving around a tennis racquet he had won in the camp tennis tournament. He had never shown any interest in tennis before but it became a game he loved to play and he was quite good at it, even playing on winning ALTA teams in his teenage years.

He gave me a big hug and was bubbling over with excitement about his time in camp. His biggest joy was in being around other limb difference kids, and feeling like a regular kid, for once in his life. He went back every summer for several years, and always had fun.

His teenage years and the early 20's were very difficult for us both, to be honest. He had no interest in school and got into some trouble, due to substance abuse issues. He is now fully sober and working hard to live a healthy, authentic life. Most importantly, he is able to face adult challenges with courage and grace.

This weekend the Catalyst Sports group is in Alabama, for an outdoor climbing/camping weekend. It's a terrific group that helps disabled kids and adults participate in sports they normally wouldn't be able to do like climbing and kayaking. Michael loves climbing and he has climbed Stone Mountain countless times, but this will be his first real climbing adventure involving climbing as a sport. He has been going indoor climbing weekly for months, and really enjoys the challenge. 

As I watched him put his gear in his backpack, and we joked about his "road trip," I was reminded of that scared little 11 year old guy who didn't want to get on the bus. Now he is a fit, healthy, confident 26 year old man who is a delight. He is not disabled. He works as a cook in an upscale local restaurant. I wrote about him recently and you can read that and see video of him here.

left, me and Michael in Kazakhstan in 2007

 

right, Michael today

How to Not Freak Out

When I was young I could go from calm to completely freaked out in a nanosecond. All my friends knew this about me. I once referred to myself as a laid back person and the friends I was with fell on the ground laughing and clutching their stomachs, howling with glee.

Well, not really. They did think I was dee-lusional, though.

I read a blog today and it reminded me of the terrible day 27 years ago when my father died, and I had to drive to Augusta where my parents lived. Talk about major freakout potential. My mom and my aunts were very worried about me driving all that way, crying. Everyone mourns differently. If I hear something very sad or upsetting [like someone has died] my reaction is to burst into tears, although I usually pull myself together as quickly as I need to, now. When Dad died, though, I was in my early 30's and still easily freaked out.

I ran back to my apartment and packed, and started driving to Augusta. It's about a 2.5 hour drive and rather boring. I tried not to cry but of course that made me really cry.

I held it together on I-285, which encircles Atlanta and is rather terrifying under the best of circumstances, but then I got onto I-20 which is a much smaller road, less traffic at midday, and just lost it. Even though my dad had been sick with cancer for months the diagnosis had come only a few weeks before he died. He was only 65, which I now think of as relatively young. I cried and cried, and drove, and I felt my dad in the car with me.

Up until that time I had honestly had my doubts about the whole afterlife concept. It seemed pretty far-fetched to me. After I lost my dad, though, I could feel his presence a lot of times, and I just knew his soul was still alive. That day in the car, that drive, changed my life forever.

I heard the other day about a cousin who has passed, and it was really sad because she was just a couple of years older than me. That's mind-boggling. Whenever I think about her, though, I try to focus on the idea that she is reunited with her parents in heaven, and out of all earthly pain and suffering. I believe that to be true.

I read a book a few years ago called Dying to Be Me, by Anita Moorjani. She had cancer years ago and clinically died, but came back to tell her story and bring comfort and enlightenment to many people, all over the world. I find NDE [near death experience] stories so compelling, because 99% of them say the same thing, that on the other side there is no judgment or punishment, only healing and love and beauty.

I have friends who are very skeptical of that. I feel sorry for them.

Anyway, back to freaking out.

I am writing a new novel and I realized the other day that when I am writing about a character I like getting freaked out I always put in that the character stops and takes deep breaths, to calm down. That's what I do! It always works. Always.

I also ask God to help me become calm and centered. Faith helps a lot.

Let's say you have no faith in God and you don't want to try meditative breathing. Another way to not freak out is to think THIS TOO SHALL PASS. Everything passes. You can let things freak you out, or realize that the only thing you can really count on in life is change.

Finally, remember that freaking out accomplishes nothing. It fills your heart and mind with negativity, and that's terrible for your emotional and even physical health.

I recently read this story about a man in New Jersey who is 109 and who still lives independently, drives, and is doing well despite his age. I love this quote from him:

“I keep positive. I never think any other way when something’s wrong,” Dransfield says.

Words to live by.

Bullying

I was watching a movie on Netflix called Where the Crawdads Sing last night and it triggered me, big time. In the movie the little "Marsh Girl" tries to go to school and the other kids make fun of her and say ugly things about her where she can hear them. They belittle her and make her feel awful. They verbally bully her. She finds it unbearable and runs away.

Left, me in 6th grade, 1974. I was verbally bullied throughout school. I remember wishing I could be invisible. School was social torture. I was bullied for being fat, because I was a little bit chubby. Not grossly obese. I was an outdoors kid. I like to shoot hoops, play tennis, swim, water ski, play kickball, etc.

After I grew up I forgot about it, honestly.

Every once in a while I remember, though. A TV show or movie or even a book will trigger bad memories.

The bullying stopped when I was a freshman in high school and my older brother and I were riding the bus home from school in the beginning of the year. I was a freshman and he was a senior. One of the bullies rode our bus and lived in the same neighborhood. He said something mean to me on the bus and my brother told him to shut up. The bully didn't shut up. Bruce got up, walked over to the kid, and punched him in the face. My brother got kicked off the bus and walked home. My parents weren't upset with him. In fact, they praised him. Mom called the school the next day and talked to the Vice Principal about it and he agreed not to do anything else to Bruce.

Most importantly, that boy never bullied me again, nor did any of his friends.

I don't really believe in karma, but I do agree with the bible verse that says "you reap what you sow." It makes sense. What goes around comes around. I am trying to make the point that all those little boys who bullied me and who were mean to me have disappeared.

I am Facebook friends with a lot of people I grew up with, and I have never seen a single profile or post by any of those boys who bullied me. There was one guy whose sister I saw on there pretty frequently. She posted that he had died of cancer a few years back. I won't say I was happy to see that, but I wasn't sad, either. I now realize that that particular guy had a very low IQ, in addition to being a rotten person. He never married or had children, which was a blessing. I firmly believe that bullies shouldn't have children, not unless they get some counseling.

You're probably wondering why I brought this up. Two reasons.

One, holding a grudge against a bully or anyone else who wrongs you does nothing to them. It poisons you, though. Your soul is filled with negative thoughts and ideas and that's corrosive. Forgiveness is what heals you. You don't have to approve of or agree with the behavior to forgive the person who wrongs you. You just have to forgive and let go.

Two, if your child is being bullied, make it stop. If I heard a kid had bullied one of my kids I would go to the school the next day and tell the child to point out the bullies. Then I would demand they be kicked out of school, and my child transferred to another class. The school would likely view me as a troublemaker and not want to do what I ask. I would assure them that failure to stop any future bullying would be met with consequences. If the bullying happened again I would pull my child out of school and go to the school board. I'd likely go to the local news station and ask them to do a story. You probably think that sounds like an overreaction but you would be wrong.

Verbal bullying can devastate a child and destroy their self-esteem. That's not just my opinion. It can also cause Depression and Anxiety, and affect a child's grades.

According to McLean Hospital:

The National Center for Education Statistics and the Bureau of Justice Statistics and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have published recent statistics, including:

• One out of every five students between the ages of 12 and 18 has experienced bullying at some point
• Students who reported being bullied stated it had an impact on how other students treated them
• Many children are bullied by peers who are larger or stronger than they are
• Some children are bullied because they have less money than their peers
• Fewer than half of all students who experienced bullying in school report it to authorities

Cyberbullying is also a terrible thing.

Cyberbullying is a significant concern. It can have a major impact on a young person’s mental health. Adolescents who are the victims of cyberbullying are more likely to experience depression, anxiety, and academic difficulties.

According to one study published by JAMA, young people exposed to cyberbullying are at a 50% increased risk of suicidal thoughts than their peers. Another recent study showed that children and young adults who experience cyberbullying are more than twice as likely to harm themselves and display suicidal behavior.

One study published by the Joint Research Center found that more than half of all children surveyed had experienced cyberbullying in some way. A survey published by Google indicated that teachers believe cyberbullying is their top safety concern in the classroom.

WHERE I DISAGREE WITH THE EXPERTS

Telling your child to ignore it doesn't work. Leaving it up to a teacher to stop it doesn't work. Schools usually do nothing until a child acts out violently or commits suicide. I am advocating a far more deliberate and profound set of actions. Threaten to sue. Pull your child out of school. I homeschooled my daughter for a year and it wasn't that difficult. Go to the news media. Confront the child or children who are doing the bullying and make their parents aware of what they are doing, most importantly. Hold the parents accountable. Most importantly, get the child away from the bullies. Never back down.

I adopted my son when he was 10 years old. When he was 5, a group of older boys bullied him and he fought back, and was beaten unconscious and left for dead. As a result, his right hand was frostbitten and had to be amputated. If his birthmom had been more vigilant it wouldn't have happened. She was an alcoholic. So now you know why I am such a zealot when it comes to bullying.

A Hundred Years Ago

I March of 2007 I went to Kazakhstan to adopt my son Michael, and when I learned the adoption hearing in court would take place on April 3rd, I saw it as a good omen. April 3, 1923 is the day my maternal grandparents, Bob Hasty and Wilma Butler, were married. Exactly one hundred years ago today!

In April 1923 Papa was touring with the Philadelphia A's but Connie Mack gave him a few days off for the honeymoon, and even paid for it!
The wedding was planned quickly, as Papa was in town for an exhibition game with the Crackers, and Memaw didn't have time to shop for a traditional dress. They just got married in the Butler family living room. Below is a description of her dress, from a newspaper story.

“She was exquisitely gowned in reindeer brown flat crepe, gorgeously embroidered in gold and bronze, in fashionable Oriental designs. She wore a beautiful imported hat of French blue, with ribbon trimming of bronze, and a combination of harmoniously blended colors, and carried a shower bouquet of orchids and cream roses.”

This is what the paper said about Papa:

“Mr. Hasty is the son of Mr. and Mrs. W.B. Hasty of Smyrna, and is well-known over the state, having been prominent in athletics. Choosing baseball as his profession, Mr. Hasty has risen to the top and has for the past three years been a winning pitcher on the Philadelphia American league baseball team. He is a Shriner and his friends and admirers are legion.”

Their early marriage was tumultuous, with Papa accused of a crime he didn't commit in November of 1923. That was the inspiration for my book Return to Marietta, available on Amazon.

Above, my grandparents in 1971, about a year before Papa died. They were married almost 50 years.

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