Joe's Sister: Lauren Calabrese
WINNER: 4th to 6th Grade
Age 11
Northvail School, Parsippany, NJ
My day begins when I am eating breakfast. Although I don’t eat together with my family, it still is, in a way, special. I am able to clear my head during this period of calm and silence. Today, I am eating a muffin. As usual, each member of my family is eating something different. I am eating alone, which is typical. My twin brother, Joe comes in an out of the kitchen to take bites of his bagel while he plays the Wii. Joe has autism. He has difficulty sitting at the kitchen table with the family, among many other difficulties. Throughout my essay, I will share these struggles as well as my own struggles with his autism.
I go bowling today. This is so much fun because for a short time, I don’t have to worry about Joe. I also don’t have to deal with my younger brother, Jason, because he is always fighting with Joe. I get stuck in the middle and I need a break! Bowling is something that I like doing and I am good at it, too. Today I saw my friends. They all bowl with me. We talk about Webkinz and other girl stuff. The other nice thing about bowling today is that my mom drove me. In the past, Joe never wanted to stay with my dad. This kept me from having any “mom time”. He finally got used to dad, so now I can spend a little more time with mom.
I also play softball. I don’t mind Joe coming because he keeps himself busy. He walks on rocks, plays on the playground, and sometimes glances over at me. He will talk to me while I’m playing, but I got used to it. It doesn’t bother me because he is actually watching me when he talks to me and that makes me happy. Some people may glance at him, but that’s normal to me. It’s no big deal.
I also have to do homework. This can be difficult. Joe and Jason fight all the time. If I get involved, Joe will actually tackle me to protect me. I actually brag about this. He is like my bodyguard. This gets Jason mad beyond all reason! Then I have to try to reason with Jason and explain Joe’s behavior. Too much!! I also have Joe asking me to repeat phrases while I am trying to get my work done. For example, he’ll say, “Lauren, Say, Look out for that lava rock!”. I have to have the perfect pitch and say it in the exact way he wants. He is trying to socialize, but he feeds me my lines.
Last but not least, today I celebrate my birthday. Since Joe is my twin brother, we celebrate with him, too. Even though we are twins, we don’t get the same cake. My family and I eat ice cream cake and Joe eats his usual crumb cake. I enjoy celebrating my birthday with Joe. I enforce that we are twins all of the time. Joe is a wiz at computers, Wii, and other video games. That’s his talent! Even though he may embarrass me at times, he is my twin and I love him!
Dan's Brother: Alex Patrick
WINNER: 7th to 9th Grade
8th Grade
Timberlane Middle School, Princeton, NJ
As a sibling to an autistic child, my brother Dan, life has certainly never been easy, as a simple day in my life could prove. The day that would most exemplify my life’s oddities would be on a Saturday, when my parents and I visit my brother at his residential home.
The day begins with me waking up in my bed, tired but determined to get up. I have breakfast and get my daily exercise in. I shower quickly, scarf down a lunch, and pack the car for the visit. My parents fill a cooler with a varied assortment of drinks, fruits, and sweets, while I collect tapes for Dan, which we give to him at the dreaded end of each visit.
After all is packed, we get in our car, a golden minivan, and start the hour long trip to my brother’s residential home. I am excited again, as I always am, but I stick my nose into a book to try to hide my anticipation.
We arrive. I put in my bookmark and bolt for the door, excited to see my brother again. I use the door knocker, and knock loudly three times. If I’m particularly lucky, my brother Dan will answer the door. After entering, I will make my way to Dan’s room, where I began rewinding his collection of Disney and Muppets tapes. Hopefully, none of the tapes will be broken that week. Sometimes, we’re not that lucky.
After the working tapes are rewound, and the broken tapes discarded, we all go to the car, parked just outside of the house, and head out. Throughout the car ride, Dan stares at his picture books, enjoying the pictures of Sesame Street or Disney characters in funny situations, while being unable to read and ultimately unaware of the text underneath the pictures.
Usually we make our first stop at a Dunk’N Donuts, buying a blue-berry bagel for Dan, while everyone else gets a drink of their choice. Following that, we make a trip with Dan to the nearby park, by his school. We take him on the swings, the slides, and the see-saw. We can spend as long as three hours, or as little as 20 minutes, depending on the mood he is in at the time.
After we leave from the park, we head back to the residential home. We give Dan some tapes for the week, and happiness quickly is evident in his eyes. I go around to his room and make sure everything is ready for him. We say our goodbyes to Dan as we walk out to the car, with tears in our eyes.
And so, my one day in the week to see my brother ends, and my life at home as an only child begins again. But always, when I’m eating dinner with my parents, studying for a test, or hanging out with my friends, my brother Dan’s absence is present.
Thomas' Brother: Patrick Fasano
WINNER: 10th to 12th Grade
11th Grade
Regis High School, New York, NY
Anyone familiar with the cell phone understands the frustration and annoyance of a dropped call. Usually it occurs when you are recounting a juicy piece of gossip or a vital piece of information. “Can you hear me now?” made famous by the man in the Verizon commercial crisscrossing the continent trying to pick up a cell phone signal. I realized watching this commercial that this simple question summed up my childhood perfectly. Being the older brother of an autistic brother, I had to vie for my parent’s attention all the time. Their lives were devoted to my brother who had been diagnosed with a form of autism at the age of two. After the diagnosis, my parents were consumed with trying to rescue their little son, my baby brother, from this dreaded monster. They were told that there might be a small window of opportunity to pull him out from the ugly grips of the autistic world. If there was a mere chance, my parents were going to try to help him. They devoted countless hours, days, months and years doing Applied Behavior Analysis therapy, play therapy, speech therapy and keeping Thomas on a very rigid schedule. Daily, a parade of ABA therapists, speech therapists and special education teachers filled in when my parents had to work. My brother received constant attention, never a moment left on his own so that the autistic world could lure him further into its grips. But I was jealous of all the attention that he got. “What about me?” “Can you hear me now?” I felt like shouting out loud. I was unaware how essential all this attention was for him. While I tried to understand that my brother needed my parents more, I found myself to be angry, mystified and dumfounded when I wanted their attention too. I would feel guilty for not understanding the importance of the immediate praise and acknowledgement that my brother received when he initiated or engaged in an interaction appropriately.
When I went to elementary school, I soon realized that other families did not have all these teachers in their home and that their siblings did not act like my brother. For many years, I pretended that I was the only child, not telling anyone that I had a little brother. Thomas’ behavior was erratic and inappropriate. He embarrassed me when he would act out in public and I just did not want him around.
Today, I am a junior in High School and am a “big brother” to an incoming freshman who is the same age as my brother. I am astounded at how delayed my brother is when I compare him to this freshman. Despite the fact that I enjoy being a “big brother” to this student and showing him ways to navigate through high school, I am saddened by the fact that I can never do this with my own brother. I will never be able share and to discuss sports, school, friends, our parents and even girls with him. My job as a “big brother” to Thomas is very different than other brothers. When I come home from school, I engage him in conversation, encouraging him to talk. When he gets all his points on his behavior sheet, we celebrate with a high five. I know that for him achieving all his points is like me getting a 100 on my calculus test. It is extremely hard and something he has to work hard at to achieve. I explain to him the necessity of showering daily and using deodorant. I show him how to use his cell phone, send text messages and I challenge him to a game on his Nintendo WII. I was overjoyed when he graduated from middle school and marched down the aisle to get his diploma. Thomas worked very hard the last fourteen years battling this autistic monster. He seems to be winning. There are still many things that Thomas cannot do, but I hope that with continual hard work and dedication my brother will okay.
Over the years, I was fortunate to meet siblings of autistic children and we bonded instantly. For once, we don’t have to explain away the actions of our siblings or be embarrassed when they act inappropriately. We don’t have to feel guilty about our feelings towards our siblings. We understand, just because we have been there. My reasons for starting this newsletter and support group is to have a forum for the siblings of autistic children to talk, laugh and cry without being judged. I don’t have an alphabet soup of letters following my name, professing various academic degrees. I am only the brother of an autistic child that can share my experiences, trials and tribulations with you. We are part of an elite club that participated in a grueling, lifelong initiation process to become members in this “for members only club”. Our experience of living with an autistic sibling is a bond that exists forever even if a single word is never spoken about it.
Can you hear me now? Yes, I can.