IDSC Down Syndrome Awareness Photo Challenge - Day 9 (Best Friend)

Day 9 of the @theidsc ‪#‎idsc2015‬ photo challenge (best friend) 

‪#‎downsyndromeawareness‬ ‪#‎photchallenge‬ #idsc2015 ‪#‎dsawareness‬‪#‎downsyndromelove‬ ‪#‎tagsforlike‬

Charley and Chris have been best friends since they attended Gibbs High School.

#IDSC Photo Challenge Day 8

Day 8 of the @theidsc ‪#‎idsc2015‬ photo challenge (a favorite activity)

Charley is playing basketball at "Hoops for Hope" with the University of Tennessee Basketball Team and the Lady Vols. This is an activity he thoroughly enjoys once a year, sponsored by Down Syndrome Awareness Group of East Tennessee (DSAG).

‪#‎downsyndromeawareness‬ ‪#‎photchallenge‬ #idsc2015 ‪#‎dsawareness‬‪#‎downsyndromelove‬ ‪#‎tagsforlikes‬

Angels in Disguise

In my book, Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome, I have a chapter where I talk about angels. In the chapter, titled "Pwomp and Circumstance," we are shopping for a suit for Charley to wear to the prom. Brad and I had little money to spend, so we found ourselves at Goodwill looking around. Out of nowhere, a man approaches and starts holding up clothing items for Charley to try. At the end of this post, I will include a portion of the chapter...

I've been thinking about Angels lately, and how they touch us. Angels kind of come out of nowhere, to tap us on the shoulder and remind us that life is precious. 

I've always thought of people with Down syndrome to special angels. They touch us in ways other people cannot. 

These are some of the fantastic folks from Angels in Disguise. 

Just to show you what kind of people they are...

Charley and I contacted them and let them know we were in Louisville. My mother was in the hospital, and we were in need of some serious cheering up. Before we knew it, we were having breakfast together, and Charley had a slew of new friends. 

Later, when Charley put his head on the pillow in the hotel room, he said, "Mom, I like my more fwents."

I said, "How could you not?" 

He wasn't alone. I like them too. Charley knows who likes him and who doesn't. He knows who tolerates him and who wants to be his friend. 

We found a restaurant full of friends that day.

Today we are celebrating our new friends, by posting some photos and adding their Angels in Disguise link to our sidebar. Please give them a visit, won't you? This is a fabulous group of people who celebrate the gift of Down syndrome. 

Thanks Angels in Disguise, for making us feel so welcome...you made Charley very happy! And well, you know the drill...when Mama's happy, everybody's happy!

As promised, here is an excerpt from Life with Charley. 

Charley’s Angel 

You know how some things keep coming back to you long after they’ve happened? That’s what happened to me, and I’ve played it over and over in my mind. I thought I was hearing things when Jordan said she’d been the one to ask Charley to the prom. “But Jordan, you can go with anyone,” I’d said to her. “I don’t want to go with anyone,” she’d said. 

Oh, me of little faith. How could I have doubted him? What gives me the right to assume he can’t get a date just because he has DS? Why wouldn’t someone be thrilled to be with him? He’s the most fun person I know. Apparently, Jordan thought so too. 

It’s been nearly six months since that day. Since Jordan asked him to her junior prom. Since she became his reason to breathe. And now, here we are, just three weeks from the big day. But first we have to make it through spring break, and I can’t think of a better way than to take him shopping for a tuxedo. Problem is, we can’t afford one. There’s a Goodwill store down the road, and I’ve seen some suits there, so off we go. As his luck would have it, there are no tuxes. As my luck would have it, Charley doesn’t care if it’s a tux or not. 

Brad’s at work this morning, unable to join us for this outing, but that’s okay. He’s elected to take Charley shoe shopping later in the week. Meanwhile, Charley and I are standing at the coat rack in the back of the store. “I don’t know, Son, you’ll just have to try them all.” 

He tries on three or four, but nothing works, when out of nowhere there’s a man standing next to us. He’s a tall man, well over six feet I’m sure, and he’s dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. I have no idea where he came from, but there he is, picking items off the rack, though barely looking at them. I notice he’s watching Charley. 

“I go pwomp,” Charley says to the man, like he’s known him for years. “Oh?” “Yeah. Me, Jordan.”

I tell the man Charley’s looking for a coat to wear to the prom.

The man takes a blazer off the rack and hands it to me. “Have him try this one,” he says. 

Charley puts it on but the sleeves come down past his hands. The man hands us another. Then another. They are all too long. Until the last one. It turns out to be Charley’s size but, oops, there’s a skirt with it. 

“Oh for pity’s sake, it’s a girl’s suit,” I say to Charley. 

“I like it,” he says, and sure enough it’s a perfect fit. 

The man says, “Just don’t tell anyone and they’ll never know.”

The next thing I know the man is helping us look for a shirt and tie, and Charley is all set with a “tussado” for the prom. 

“I like him,” Charley says. “Tell the man thank you.” Charley says, “Can I keep him?” 

I look at Charley for a split second. “He’s not a puppy.” The two of us laugh, but when I turn my head back so see the man’s reaction, he’s gone. 

“Where’d he go?” I ask Charley. Charley shrugs his shoulders. “I no know. Wheh is he?”

“Son, tell me the truth. There was a man here, just a second ago. Right?”

***

This is where I’ll stop for now. If you want to know what happens you’ll need to read the book. You can find it here:

Life With Charley

***Thanks for visiting our Life With Charley blog. Please, come back often! 

Stranger Danger

Have you ever known someone so sweet that they have no fear?

That’s Charley.

Everybody’s friend

And, as far as he’s concerned, everybody is his friend, too.

Here’s how things work at my house…

Charley is the neighborhood greeter. He stands out on the front step and waves to everyone. "Hey fwent!" 

Sometimes they wave back. Sometimes they ignore him properly.

He watches everyone.

“Look Mom, dat guy over dere.” Meaning, that guy is mowing lawn.

“Dat guy got da mail.” And so should he.

“Dat guy work da house.” Meaning, that guy has power tools. They make lots of noise. That makes him cool. Maybe he’d like to come to our house and tell us all about it.

And so it was.

I’m busy doing laundry, and sit down to take a break. I’m bending over, rummaging in my knitting bag for my latest project, and better hurry with it, or Mom’s birthday will be here before I’m finished.

“See? Dat my Mom,” he says.

I look up. There’s a man with long curly hair standing in the living room.

Oh Lord.

The man introduces himself as “Ron,” and squats down to pet the cat.

We chat for a moment, but inside I’m freaking out.

A man in the living room.

A man I’ve never seen before.

The man tells me he is working on the house across the street, building a play room for the new neighbors.

He seems nice enough, but he’s in my living room and I’ve never seen him before.

“See?” Charley says to me after the man leaves.

“Charley, you know better than to invite some stranger into the house like that.”

Or does he?

I remember telling him over and over not to open the door to strangers if they knock.

But did I ever tell him not to invite someone in?

How many times has he been in the living room and I’ve brought a friend home. Someone he didn’t know? True, I didn’t flag them in from off the street, but still, he didn’t know them. And what did I do? I introduced them. "Say hi, Charley."

Charley has a dilemma. He sees what I do. Then I tell him not to do it.

He’s 24. Should he be able to invite a friend in?

He has no concept of my-stranger-is-ok, but-yours-is-not.

As Charley gets older, I admit I let my guard down more than I used to.

I let him go outside by himself more. He empties the garbage. Most of the time he comes back. When he doesn’t, we go fetch him.

Sometimes he takes a detour, such as to the house across the street to invite “Ron” to the house.

It’s scary to see a stranger in your house.

Now, you must understand, I’m not afraid when Charley’s around. At least, I try not to be.

He’s strong and even though he is smaller than that guy, I have no doubt he could beat him up and leave him begging for mercy if provoked. All those years of carrying the TV from his room to the living room and back again every 15 minutes because he couldn't decide where he wanted to watch it didn't leave my son without muscles. 

Not that I want him inviting the neighborhood into the house, but if he decides they are all to come calling, then so be it.

The thing that gives me pause is this…Charley has no fear. No filter. No what-if?

What if that guy isn't a good guy?

What if Mom doesn't want to entertain right now?

What if I get in trouble for bringing ol’ Ron into the house unannounced? 

It's not a good situation, this open house, come-on-in. This Ya'll-com-back-now-ya-hear? No, it's downright dangerous. I've spent countless times explaining how he could get hurt. How I could get hurt. It's not that he doesn't care, it's that it doesn't register. 

I'll say, "Charley, inviting someone to the house that you don't know is dangerous."

He looks at me and grins, like, Dat guy? Can't you see how nice dat guy is? And he says, "Come on..."

It makes no sense to him. Such is the communication gap. The schism of reasoning that sets Charley apart from other thinkers. He wants to be regarded as a man, and most of the time he is. But it is times like these when the innocence of that 21st chromosome gets in the way. 

That being said, stranger danger and all, I have to admit that even though he sometimes scares me to death, I try to remind myself to look for the good. There has to be something good about this, and there is. He sets an example with his neighborliness. His unconditional acceptance of his fellow man.

 I admire him. 

I often wonder what it must be like to be Charley. To live your life as if everyone has your best interest at heart.

What if we all lived our lives like that?

What if we all treated strangers as if they were our new best friend? 

What if we brought them fried chicken on the first night in their new house? Brad did that the night they moved in.

What if we invited people in?

Most of us keep the world out.

We keep ourselves closed.

What if we were a little more neighborly? What if we approached the other guy like Charley does...why can't we be fwents?

What if we walked across the lawn and said, “Hi” ?

If we did that, the stranger in our house wouldn't be so strange after all.

And just to clear this up, no, I don’t particularly want a strange guy in my living room.

Charley and I will have a little chat about that.

Right after I walk across the lawn and meet the new neighbors.

*  *  *

Sherry Palmer is the author of Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption, available on Amazon.com

A Circle Unbroken - A Special Olympics Post

When I saw this on Facebook today, I thought immediately of Special Olympics.

Sad to say, but few of us in this world understand this message. But happy to say, Special Olympians do.

There's a group of special needs students from Knoxville at Ober Gatlinburg right this very minute. They may not be sitting in a circle with their feet together, but their arms are around their buddies.

Special Olympians understand the concept of the circle..."what's good for the group." They know that in order to cross the finish line, their buddies have to cross it too. They know that in order for a circle to encompass a spirit, it must be unbroken.

I've seen it. Even wrote about it on this very blog. Here's the original blog, written nearly two years ago. I'm rerunning this post not because I'm too lazy to write a new one, but simply because even though it refers to an outdoor sport, if I wrote it again for the winter games, the message would be the same.

Here it is...

The last time I saw Charley compete in Special Olympics, he was standing in the middle of a circle. Right in the middle of a volleyball court, crying. Not because he didn’t win. Everyone’s a winner at the Special Olympics. It’s about standing shoulder to shoulder with your fellow teammates, and mostly, having fun.

He was excited that day, putting on his official Special Olympics T-shirt, and he would have had a good time too, if I hadn’t fouled things up.

I can’t always go to his Special Olympics events, but that morning he put his arm around me and said, “Mom, you comin’?”

I started to blurt, “I can’t. I have to work.” Seems I'm always working on the important days. But the fact is, I didn’t have to work that day, so, Brad and I were there to cheer him on.

As we entered the gym he came running up to us. “Guys, dis my Daddy, dis my Mom,” he grinned and pointed us out to anyone who would listen. I don’t know who was prouder, him or us.

Brad and I made our way to the bleachers and sat down, when moments later Yvette (Charley's teacher) suggested we move.

“You can’t sit here,” she said, “Families sit in the upper level out of harm’s way.”

Even Brad pleaded with me to move to a safer seat, “Let’s move to the no kill zone,” he said.

But I had picked my spot and my fat little rear end wasn’t about to budge. “I can see better here,” I insisted, when, five, four, three, two, one. BLAM. A volleyball right in the kisser. After that, the only thing I saw was stars.

My face was bleeding, my nose was smashed, and my lip was cut. I tried not to cry as Brad escorted me to the hallway and helped me find the ladies room where I wiped my face with a wet paper towel and collected myself. 

 I considered leaving and going home. I couldn't see the game anyway; my glasses were a twisted mess. Besides, I didn't want to embarrass Charley any more than I already had. But Charley wouldn't understand if he looked up and we weren't there, so we went back to the gym.

As I opened the door I expected to see a volleyball game in progress. Instead, I saw a circle. There, in the middle of the floor, beside the volleyball net, was my son, surrounded by a circle. A circle that included not only his team, but the opponents as well. He was crying, and his buddies had turned their attention from their own moment of glory to make sure Charley was okay.

"It's okay, Charley," I heard one of them say.

"Your Mom be alright," Another said.

I walked over to him and he threw his arms around me and cried some more. I assured him that I was okay, his teammates (and yes, the opponents) slapped him high-fives, the excitement returned, and the game resumed.

I learned several things that day. First, if you are going to bend the rules, you might end up being the one who’s bent. Even Moms are supposed to respect boundaries. Including me.

Second, there’s a reason they call it Special Olympics. It’s called sportsmanship and there’s so much more to it than beating the other guy. It’s all about the dream and the team. The dream to be a winner, and the team that loves the sport, but more importantly, the team that loves each other.

Above all, it’s about helping a teammate find his smile so he can get back in the game. Because when you help someone else win, you win too.

And third. Isn’t it ironic? Those who are often considered the least of us because of their special needs are often the ones who teach us the most.

Somewhere in Ober Gatlinburg there's a group of athletes racing toward the finish line. Whooping and hollering and cheering each other on. Slapping high-fives when they win, and more importantly, when they don't.

I borrowed this image from Pinterest 

Special Olympics gets it right.

In a world where reality TV encourages and captures a 
"me-ism" mentality, isn't it nice to know there's a group at Ober practicing "we-ism?"

Will the circle be unbroken? It will if our Special Olympians have anything to say about it.

******                                     *****                                       *****

Sherry McCaulley Palmer is the author of Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption.

Available on Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Life-With-Charley-Sherry-Palmer/dp/1937365700/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

Follow Sherry's board Life with Charley and Down syndrome on Pinterest.

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Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption

By Sherry McCaulley Palmer

Look for it here:

http://www.amazon.com/Life-With-Charley-Syndrome-Adoption-ebook/dp/B00O29FJB0