The clouds, the breeze

How does a parent tell their 14 year old non-verbal child that the world has changed? I’ve had to tell him about the deaths of Grandparents and other relatives and it is so hard to know what has registered. As a parent of a severely autistic child, I’ve been advised to assume he is aware of the world around him even if he behaves as if he’s separate from it. Gauging his reaction is always difficult and in the wake of a death or other Earth shattering event it’s frustrating for me.

“I have to tell you something important happened last night. You know how Daddy yells when something bad happens to Everton? Well it’s like that, but a bit bigger….”

Oh Hell I do not know what I’m doing but I’m even more fearful about his future now, and about the health care of so many special needs children and adults who are probably going to lose their benefits when the new administration erases the Affordable Care Act.

The new sheriff in town does not inspire confidence when he mocks a man with cerebral palsy onstage and his followers kick a child’s wheelchair.

It’s not a good time to live in this country unless you’re a straight white male with some means. I have no idea what the next four years will bring, even the stock market shocked me with a rally today. Yet I can’t seem to want to give up hope. Maybe when the guy leaves it will be better than it was? I can’t help but be cynical and frightened for my friends and coworkers who do not look like me though.

We're not addressing mental health this time either

An act of murder was committed when Jillian McCabe threw her six year old son London, off a bridge in Oregon. It is a terrible, criminal act that I cannot condone or defend.

London McCabe was severely autistic.

In addition, the McCabe family was in trouble, London's father was recently diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and was unable to work. He was the financial head of the household, so Mrs. McCabe had to juggle being a caregiver and seek out financial assistance for her family. A rather stressful undertaking.

Then Mrs. McCabe's father died and she and her husband separated.

It is not difficult to see why Jillian McCabe may have snapped, but that does not give her any excuses for her crime of murder.

We talk a lot after tragedies about how we have to address mental health. It's a lot of talk. Whatever Jillian McCabe's mental health treatment was, it was not enough, and her family is now suffering the consequences of her actions.

What a Local

There are a lot of bars in Glasgow and it's not hard finding a good one. I'd been looking through travel guides and online sources to see if there were some interesting ones I missed.



A number of sites recommended The Pot Still so I figured it would get a shot. When I walked in a dog was staring at me. It was not causing any trouble, other than getting behind the bar, then gently sent off by the bartender.

This was what I saw.



I am not sure I have ever seen this type of whiskey collection in a bar before. I said it would take awhile before making my first choice. Eventually selected the malt of the month, a Glen Garioch. A tasty highland malt from one of the oldest distilleries in the country.

The bartender knows his malts. Very friendly and easily answers questions.

When it came time for my second, I asked about a trio of whiskeys on a shelf. He brought them down to show me.



Kilchoman is the first distillery to be built on Islay in 124 years. It was established in 2005, which means they do not even have a 12 year old whiskey to sell. The one I tried was 100% Islay made, from the malt grown, to the malting process. An estate grown whiskey. I had found my wheelhouse on the second try, and the drink was fantastic. All the peat, malt and smoke in fantastic balance. Pricey, but I was on vacation and not spending $70 for a bottle.

Said my goodbyes, but told them I'd be back.

I returned on Wednesday, did not order the 1953 from a distillery I do not remember that went for 55 pounds a shot, but a modest one.



Took a seat, read the papers. Ordered a Jura Prophecy and got into a conversation with a couple of locals.

"You are American?"

"Yes."

"Where are you from?"

"Columbus."

"Ah, Jack Nicklaus country."

And we talked about America. They loved Myrtle Beach, would live there but hated our health care system.

No one brought up Thatcher.

The Pot Still kept me from another bar I love, The Horseshoe. That collection of malts is outstanding, and will bring me there again.

Over three minutes ten seconds, you go back to your seat. You feel shame

Last night was another IWPS qualifying slam at WB. There were two rounds, the first a three minute poem, the second a one minute.

I’d done the three minute so many times, and in so many places. I slowed it down, just a little too much and the time was 3:11. One second over the ten second grace period left me with a half point deduction. Such is the animal of slam. I would have finished first in the round instead of tied with two others.

My one minute was a brand new poem. A bit on the odd side; inspired in part when Hanif said there were no Tito Jackson poems in a Facebook comment. I used it. It went ok, but a couple poets sailed by me in the standings.

Turns out, I would have finished in third had I not had the time penalty. No one to blame but me. Congratulations to Ethan and Gina who tied for first place, and Vernell for coming in third.

Also a welcome to the fold to Aaron, who broke his Slam Cherry last night. He was so cute, doubled over in his chair all nervous before going on stage.

In other news the book I’m anthologized in came in the mail yesterday!



If you want to read the rest of the poem you can get the book HERE.

Also been watching the internet foam at the mouth over the ACA today.

Nine and a half years later

It was where my son spent the first fifty eight days of his life. No, I was not ready for his arrival. No one was. He was twelve weeks early, kicked his way out of his mother and has not slept since.

One of the early pictures.



We took a tour of the facility and birthing area and were supposed to start lamaze classes three days after he was born. Little of it made any sense to me at the time. He was not supposed to be done until Thanksgiving.

The one thing I was sure of, along with his mother, is that he was going to be ok. We had some rough patches in there, seeing him on the c-pap was very traumatic, but we knew we'd all come out of there at some point. And the nursing staff was wonderful, except for one of them. He did have quality care when he stopped breathing at 3AM several times during his stay.

It's not a place I want to stop at red lights, look in all directions, then plow through to get to at 1AM ever again. I do not want to run through the parking garage, be out of breath by the time I tell security what's happening as they send me through. An NICU is not a place I want anyone I know to ever be, unless they're taking their healthy child home.

A quick update on his eating: Last night I crumbled up half a graham cracker in my son's pudding and used the iPad as a reinforcement. For every bite he took, he would get some time with the iPad. He was not happy, tried pushing the bowl away, protesting but he did not turtle or stop eating. He finished the pudding. We did this last week in OT and I was stunned that he ate the pudding. It was the most solid food he's ever eaten. Last night was the first time it happened at home.

Tumbling Further into the Abyss

My son has got his energy back. He's worn me out to the point of illness. I think the recent temperature changes have done that to me as well. It was thirty degrees warmer than today on Sunday. Which was when I got some yard work done, and went on the roof to make sure the gutters were secure.

Who knows when I got sick? Was coughing all day yesterday, dealing with insurance bureaucracy, a school meeting and a busy day at work.

Day 12 - A Song from a Band You Hate.

Hate is such a powerful word. Keeping with the no repeat rule, since the band I hate has plenty of songs I hate let me present you with some more musical filth.

I was part of a crowd that booed these wanker poseurs off the stage at Rich Stadium back in 1981. These sing songy twerps somehow got their way into one of the opening slots on the Rolling Stones "Tattoo You" tour. After George Thorogood donned a raincoat and blew the clouds away, these middle of the road hacks came on with their smiley waving feel good tunes that no one gave a crap about.

They left, still thinking they were loved, but did not finish their set.

Once again, because I like my readers (and there are more of you now, even if you do not comment) I will not embed the song. But if you click HERE you will see a foul site. Just looking at the lead singer's outfit is cause for a terms of service violation. You've been warned.

Again, Four and a Half Years Later

This morning we took my son to a local hospital's feeding clinic so he could be evaluated concerning his eating issues. We did the same thing for him back in August of 2006, and many of the same doctors and therapists examined him today. Weird, I can't seem to find one LJ entry about this.

We found out why the clinic discontinued its in-patient program, because insurance companies would not cover it.

My son or I could develop a drug addiction and be treated for rehabilitation, but if an eight year old has an eating disorder, it is considered medically unnecessary.

You need me to go on about this?

He was looked at, observed, evaluated - the therapists watched him eat. Then they tried putting some finely crushed graham crackers into his pudding, to give it a little bit of texture. He took one bite and started saying, "Gotta get away."

We have our work cut out for us.

We're going to hear back from them in a couple of weeks with their full evaluation and recommendations. There's probably going to be some occupational feeding therapy involved. If insurance covers it there may be a conflict with his vision therapy in that there's a cap on visits during a year. He's got to start eating. If this is the case the vision therapy will have to be temporarily abandoned.

Hard, crazy choices we have to make in this modern world.

New Art on the Wall too!

My coworkers put on a pleasant little bash for us yesterday. They're good people, and there was an enormous cake. They wanted us to take some home, but there's still plenty of wedding cake left!

Been reading all kinds of articles on either a renaissance or the death of poetry slam.

I blame Obama on that silly little poetry jam he had at the White House that had such renowned slam poets as Michael Chabon and his wife. Joe Biden never would have hosted a poetry jam.

One thing I did notice in the stories is that there were few women poets mentioned.

And poetry in the news cycle is ending in three, two...

Wishing my Scottish wife luck today. She will be watching the boy for the next three days.



She'll do fine. He can be quite the handful though.

I see health care is coming back to the forefront again. How about this? Allow every American citizen to pay the same amount and into the same plan that congress gets. If our number one health care system is good enough for them, it's good enough for the rest of us.