A Singer Gives His Voice To A Talk About Autism


I IMAGINE YOU TALKING TO ME
Memories of Learning to Listen
by Allison Moorer

Allison Moorer opened her new memoir “I Dream He Talks to Me” with a letter. his nonverbal autistic son John Henry. The Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter said, “I wasn’t sure how you would feel about me saying these things to people, so I wrote it here imagining you’re reading every single word over my shoulder.”

In doing so, Moorer touches on a question that has gained traction in certain circles: Is it ethical to write about your children, especially if they are disabled and unable to consent? Some argue that autistic stories should be written by autistic people, that parents have mastered the conversation long enough. What about those who are deeply autistic, who don’t have the tools – meaningful or intellectual – to tell their own stories? If we silence the parents of such children, who will tell these stories? In “I Dream He Talks with Me,” Allison Moorer proves that it can be done with respect.

Moorer was in the middle of a song when he first realized that his son was different. He hit a high note in his gospel song and the toddler burst into tears, overwhelmed by the feeling. He connected the dots: He used fewer words, stopped turning his head at anyone who said his name. A few months later, John Henry was diagnosed with autism.

Like many parents faced with uncertainty, Moorer sought medical guidance, read books, tried diets, and continued therapy—anything that could help her son regain his language. Her experience was complicated by John Henry’s divorce from his father, musician Steve Earle.

Moorer grapples with how to be a good mother, given her limited ability to understand John Henry and his discomfort. At one point, a doorman in his building looks at 6-year-old John Henry and says, “12 will be fine when you turn 13.” He ponders the meaning behind this well-meaning, well-meaning phrase: “Who decides where and where the line between good and not good?”

Moorer shows that caring for someone with a profound disability can be a relationship defined by duality. You can love your child right away and respect their unique point of view, and you wish them to have an easier, more expressive and even independent life.

“I would love for him to be able to sit around all day and flip a barrier between his hands because that seemed to be what made him feel good,” she writes. But unfortunately, this is “not the world of block spinners and I would have to do my best to get him off the block spinner island.”

And then there’s taking care of a kid pulling his hair and ass, like John Henry did. “We’ve been told to stay away from those who hurt us, but I can’t and don’t want to run away from this person,” Moorer writes. Although he didn’t discover it here, his father killed his mother before he killed himself, his first memory is a tragedy he wrote in “Blood”.

Parts of this book were written directly to John Henry, including the descriptions of the dreams that gave the book its name. Others write “Yes-I-I-Know-Woman-Dear Lady in the Locker Room” to strangers looking at her. Others, including “Grow up elephant-sized balls,” are written like a guidebook for parents who find themselves navigating these foreign lands.

At times, these shifts give the memory a disjointed appearance.

Still, Moorer brings shape and voice to what it means to love and support someone you may never understand: After all, “there’s no worse helplessness than the kind of helplessness felt by a parent who can’t make things right for their child.” Moorer shows the power of surrender and the importance of asking the right questions: “Where is the line between enough and too much? Between what he needs and what we want, between helping and hurting, between adequate and diminishing returns?”

It’s impossible to know whether John Henry would approve of his mother’s story or whether he would ever read it again. But in this heartwarming book, Moorer offers a resounding tribute to his powerful influence on his life.



Source link

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *