TRAVEL

I have traveled many roads, lots of distances and through many states.  I travel to work each day, through rain and snow and gloom of night.  I traveled cross-country in a blinding snowstorm and rode from Maine to California in the heat of summer with no air-conditioning.  But the hardest trip I ever made was when my daughter went to school in Utah.  She bought a car to take out with her and I rode shotgun.  Or at least was supposed to.

Chelsea attended a business college in Utah and the first year I flew out with her to get her settled.  She enjoyed college and made many friends.  But public transportation was her undoing.  She hated taking the “Trax”, a tram system that is used as public transportation.  The frequent stops, starts and jerks made her sick.  And she didn’t like the bus system either.  Chelsea is a bit of a “germ-a-phobe” and doesn’t like to be around strangers because who knows where they’ve been or what they’ve touched.  So when my friend Mike said he had a car for sale, I jumped at buying it for Chelsea. 

Chelsea took out a personal loan and purchased the car.   Mike had taken good care of the car, so it should make it out to Utah, no problem.  Only the terrain from Maine to Utah wasn’t the same all the way out.  Chelsea’s roommate, Hannah, flew up from Tennessee and we packed the car for our exciting journey.  As we pulled out of the driveway, I thought, this won’t be so bad, we’ve got three drivers.  The beginning of our trip wasn’t too bad.  Through New York into Pennsylvania was quite enjoyable.  I always love to look at the scenery and the roads were good, the signs were clear.  We spent our first night at a “Holiday Inn Express” in Pennsylvania.  I told the girls we weren’t staying in any dives because we were putting in 10 -12 hours driving a day and I wanted a comfortable night’s sleep.

When we got into Nebraska, things started going wrong.  We spent the night in Lincoln, Nebraska, home to the Nebraska “Cornhuskers”.  There was a big football game that night and lots of partying.  The next morning, we started out, but the “check engine” light came on and we stopped at a gas station.  As I got out of the car; icy, blue radiator fluid gushed onto the ground.  I panicked.  Here I was in a strange city, and my car was leaking radiator fluid.  I couldn’t move the car from the gas pump and went inside to plead my desperate situation.  Luckily, the people in Nebraska are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.  They let me call my road service from their phone.  A man came out and looked at the car and discovered a kink in the radiator hose that probably caused the fluid to leak.  He got the air out and voila!  The car was fixed, I called AAA to cancel and we were off.

The next hazard was when we drove over the mountains of Wyoming.  When I say “we”, I mean me and Hannah.  Chelsea had little interstate driving experience and was anxious about driving in unfamiliar territory.  I probably drove about 8 hours a day and Hannah made up the rest.   I will NEVER drive in Wyoming again.  Usually, my motto is “never say never”;  but I can unequivocally affirm that I will NEVER drive through that God-forsaken state again.  The “check engine” light shone brightly as we traversed one mountain after another.  I prayed the whole way that we would make it out of the state.  The car protested by not going over 45 miles per hour up those mountains, so that relegated us to the breakdown lane.  And there is nothing great to look at in Wyoming, either.  Miles and miles of nothing.  Every once in a while, I would see a sign for “Little America”  which I think is some sort of tourist attraction, but I never saw anything when we reached the designated exit, so I don’t know.

Finally, we made it to Utah.  It took us three days to reach our destination.  Three exhausting days.  Three miserable, tiring, draining, grueling days.  But we made it.  The car got us there, and for all its complaints and objections, we made it to the Salt Lake valley.  My daughter’s dorm is part of a hotel in Salt Lake and she knew the desk clerk.  He gave me a great room rate while I was there.  What I thought would be an easy trip turned into a series of mishaps.  I think the car was trying to tell me that it was a Maine car and wanted to stay home.  But it made the trip and got us where we wanted to go.  And it got Chelsea around Salt Lake without having to take public transportation.  So the car fulfilled the measure of its creation and I flew home, grateful to for the miracle of flight.

Graf 20

If you notice, I did graf 21 before 20.  Because what started out as a paper about grafs and essays turned into a paper on my feelings about the class.  So this may repeat some of that.  I have always enjoyed writing; I can communicate better through the written word than orally.  My words become jumbled and I have a hard time speaking with others, but when I write, I feel free.  Some of the grafs and essays were hard to write, i.e., the ones concerning my family.  It is hard to lay bare your emotions and feel that you are being judged, even though it is on the structure and not content.  Well content too, but not about what you feel.  I really enjoyed the essays where I got to write about situations where I could interject some levity, such as the "Day in the Life" and "Hair" essay.  That was lots of fun.  I am glad I didn't try to clep this class as many had encouraged me to do.  I probably could have, the placement test proctor said she hardly ever saw a score as high as mine (not bragging, it is what it is).  But I would have lost out on so much if I had.  I've enjoyed your class, John.  (Looks like this one turned into a "21", too.

Graf 21

It has been very interesting writing the grafs and essays assigned.  When I took English in high school, one of the BIG NO-NOS was writing anything personal or in the first person.  My English teacher, Mr. Arnold cautioned against writing personal because when you write about things important to you and you get a grade not to your liking, you take it personally.  For example, I was a new member of the Mormon church and in my fervor, I thought writing a paper on the Church would convert the world.  Or at least Mr. Arnold.  I was devastated to get a "C".  But then, I understood what he meant.  So I was very leary of writing things that might be near and dear or might make me vulnerable.  But in a way, it was very carthartic.  I was able to exercise some guilt over the way I treated my grandfather, and some ambivalence towards my mother.  I enjoyed doing the writings using music lyrics as the essays using the Beatles and Cowsills, to name a few.  I often think in lyrics when reminded of something and it was fun to set those thoughts to words.  And the positive comments not too bad either.  I had an English professor at BYU who told my cousin he thought I had some promise in writing.  I don't know, but I do know this class has rekindled a desire to try.  I took a creative writing class through Adult Ed, and one of the things she told us was that we need to set aside time to write everyday, and foremost, to just write.  This class has inspired me to do just that.

I Search

Helping Eric

The Transition from Autistic

Child to Adult

By

Hope A. Page

ENG 101, College Composition

May 4, 2012

John Goldfine

Table of Contents

Summary………………………………………………………………..iii

Introduction……………………………………………………………...1

Why I Am Writing……………………………………………………….4

What I Know…………………………………………………………….5

The Search……………………………………………………………...7

What I Learned………………………………………………………….8

Occupations…………………………………………………………….10

School…………………………………………………………………...13

The Future………………………………………………………………14

Bibliography……………………………………………………………..17

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Summary

When I first learned that I would be assigned to do an iSearch paper on something that was important to me, I immediately thought of my grandson, Eric.  Eric is 9 years old, and was given a firm diagnosis of autism when he was three.  Eric has exceeded the expectations of some medical experts.  One doctor told my daughter he would never talk, yet Eric has good verbal skills.  Yet, there are areas where his autism is evident.  He fixates on certain subjects; his vocal pitch is monotone and he has trouble making eye contact with those he is not familiar with.  As Eric gets older, I wanted to know what kinds of jobs he could expect to hold.  As I found through my research, there are quite a few jobs he could excel at independently.  He may even chose to go to college.  I found that the possibilities are considerable.  Through my research, I found that Eric will have  many options available to him.  I am pleased that there is a bright future for Eric.

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INTRODUCTION

One winter evening, I was sitting in my recliner, watching my 8 month old grandson, Eric, playing with a puzzle.  He sat on the floor, took the puzzle pieces out of the wooden frame and methodically lined the pieces up, end to end.  My daughter remarked how smart he was.  I thought so, too, but the behavior seemed very precise and systematic for an 8 month old.  As the mother of 5 children, I know that typical behavior for an 8 month old is to empty the frame and immediately try to shove all the pieces that will fit into their mouths.  Other behaviors Eric exhibited concerned me as well.  When I spoke to him, he didn’t always look at me and he resisted when I picked him up.  In the back of my mind, I thought of several articles I read on autism in children.  Children who don’t like to be hugged, who avoid eye contact and sit for hours fixated on certain objects.  Could Eric be autistic?  I thrust the thought from my mind; he was only 8 months old, for Pete’s sake.  Most autistic children are diagnosed at about 2 years of age; what was my problem looking at Eric in this way?

I had only come in contact with two individuals who were autistic.  One child was about 5 years old.  An older woman in my church gave me some

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and-me-down dresses to my 3 year old daughter that her granddaughter

had outgrown.  The woman explained to me that her granddaughter was

 autistic.  When I went to the lady’s home I found out what she meant.  The little girl thrashed around; kicking and screaming.  The child’s grandmother told me that her daughter was unable or unwilling to care for the child, so the grandmother stepped in.  She told me how hard it was to manage the little girl and that the dresses she gave me was made especially for her granddaughter, but she hardly ever wore them because her behavior was so bad, she couldn’t be taken anywhere.

The next person I met was a young man about  20 years old.  He came into the Department of Health and Human Services to apply for food stamps.  His mother explained that he lost his job due to his “condition”.  The young man told me he had, what I understood him to say, “ass-burgers”.  I thought he must have Tourette’s Syndrome and he just blurted out whatever came to mind.  That would get him fired, right?  Later, I read the Time issue and discovered what he really said was “Asperger’s”.  He was quite different from the little girl I met years ago. 

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Now I sat, watching Eric so carefully line up those puzzle pieces, and I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Eric might be autistic, too.  I delicately mentioned it to my daughter, who told me someone else had broached the subject with her.  My daughter seemed unsure of how to proceed. I had little experience with autistic individuals, but Time magazine had recently featured autism in a special issue.  I suggested she read the Time issue. 

Several years later, my hunch turned to reality when Eric was officially diagnosed with “pervasive developmental disorder” which is on the autism spectrum.  Later he was diagnosed as autistic.  Eric is 9 years old now and is a very sweet, loving boy.  But as he gets older, I know he will face difficulties with his peers, who may not understand why he is different.  My daughter told me of one instance where a friend of Eric’s brought another boy over to Eric’s house to play.  The boy played in Eric’s house, but told Eric’s friend he didn’t want to play with Eric because Eric was “weird”. 

So this is why I decided to look into autism and what Eric may face as he reaches adulthood.  What sorts of jobs await him?  Will he be able to manage independently?

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WHY I AM WRITING

As I previously stated, I am researching the subject of adults with autism and how they navigate in society because my grandson is autistic.  At 9 years old, he has about 10 years before he enters society as an adult.  Already in his young life, he has faced some challenges in interacting with other children.  While his sister likes to have friends over for birthdays and play dates, Eric prefers to keep these occasions as family only.  He seems to like the security of his family as opposed to the uncertainty of people on the outside.  Eric goes to public school and does quite well in math.  English and reading is more of a challenge, but he has success there, too.  As he gets older, he will have more interactions outside his family.  I am concerned with how he will support himself.  What obstacles will he face as he becomes self-sufficient?   Will he hold an independent job?  If he chooses, can Eric expect go to college?  And most importantly, how will he interact with society at large.  I am concerned that anytime someone displays conduct that is outside the norm, that they are misunderstood and inappropriately labeled as a result.  So my purpose in writing this paper is to find out how adults with autism have handled these situations and thrived in society. 

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By finding out some of the answers to my questions, I hope to better assist Eric as he gets older.

WHAT I KNOW

As I began my research, one in every 110 children in the United States are diagnosed with autism.  This week, I read an on-line article that states a new report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that 1 in 88 American children have some form of autism.  This is an increase of 78% compared to a decade ago.¹  

 In researching this subject, I decided to focus on high functioning autism (HFA) and Asperger’s, since there is such a wide spectrum of behaviors under the umbrella of autism.  I found there are some things I do know about autism.  Autistic individuals develop interests that often become passions; that can be a strength in the work place. 

In the case of my grandson, Eric, he developed an interest in butterflies.

He explained to me about the pupa and the chrysalis.  I was amazed at his

^{1http://www.cdc.gov/Features/Counting/Autism}

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knowledge of the life cycle of the butterfly.  Because of his interest, I bought

him a butterfly farm.  This seemed to give him focus and encourage his

interest.  Eric may not go on to work in the butterfly field, but it may fuel his interest in the sciences.  I know that by inspiring an interest, it can help Eric as he gets older and begins to look at different occupations.

Individuals with autism often have trouble with interpersonal relationships.  They have a hard time understanding body language and subtleties of behavior that most of us take for granted.  I have read that many autistic individuals are able to focus on their vocations and are quite successful because of this ability to concentrate. 

 I know that some perceived weaknesses in personal interaction can be a strength in the job market.  I also know that attention to detail, which is another HFA trait could help Eric in the job market by emphasizing he quality of work he may engage in.  I hope by doing the research for this paper, I will be able to help Eric navigate the confusing, perplexing jumble that he will face in the adult world.

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THE SEARCH

In determining which direction to go in for my research, I first checked out the library.  There is next to nothing on high-functioning autistic (HFA) children transitioning into adulthood.  Most of the books I found deal with raising an autistic child.  One book focused on adult living situations, such as supported living in group homes and institutionalized settings. 

Since I feel that Eric will most likely be able to function independently, I am not interested in how he will manage in a group setting.  According to his teachers and evaluators, Eric is two points over the normal/spectrum scale.  It gives me hope that with the proper intervention and training, he will live and function independently.  Eric is a smart boy, he is at grade level in math and on the lower end of the reading scale, but he is working on that. 

I did find one book; aquamarine blue 5, which is a compilation of essays written by autistic college students.  I also called the local elementary school and spoke with the special education secretary.  I explained that I am doing a research paper on HFA and wanted to find out what resources are available to help children transition into adulthood and function

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independently in society.  She told me that the special education teacher was on vacation (school break).  She took my number and told me that she would have the teacher contact me after break.  She put me in contact with the autism specialist at Penquis.  I played “phone tag” with her for several days and then she gave me her email address.  I emailed several questions and have not heard back. 

Due to the constraints on my time, i.e., working full time, managing a home, etc., I have decided to confine my research to books, periodicals and the internet.  This way, I can have access to materials when it is convenient to me.  Much of what I found on the internet discusses the types of jobs best suited for HFA and the kinds of difficult situations they may encounter in the “real” world as adults. 

WHAT I LEARNED

In researching how adults with autism function in society, the most important question is “What is it like to be an adult with autism?  I found this question posed on the website; “Answers.com” with some responses such as:

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“Being an adult with Aspergers is like being from a foreign country. However, because I look the same and don't have a foreign accent people assume I'm a native (neurotypical) and expect me to be just like them. They don't allow for misunderstandings or me saying things in not "quite the right" way. If the Aspies made up the majority of the population, then the neurotypical people would feel odd, out of place, misunderstood, and experience the world in a way that is different from the way the majority do.”²

In many of the articles I read, HFA are misunderstood primarily because they react differently in social situations than the majority of the population. 

This creates a barrier in connecting with others.  For example, many people with autism have a hard time making friends.  For many people with autism, their interests can be extreme and they have a difficult time engaging in

other subjects that do not appeal to them.  For instance, someone who is

HFA may have an obsessive interest in trains.  They may study the train schedule for every train in the United States.  But such a fixation may seem weird to someone who is without an interest in trains. 

Autistic people may also have problems toning down their voices.  Eric

^{2  http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_life_like_for _an_adult_with_autism_or_Aspergers%27s_Syndrome}

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speaks in a particularly loud voice that can sometimes take people aback if they do not know him.  Therapists work with Eric to help him recognize appropriate tone of voice and he is in a regular classroom that helps him interact with other children his age.  Being involved with other children can help him understand how to communicate appropriately with others.  With additional supports such as speech and occupational therapy, Eric can learn how to associate with people in the workforce and society at large. 

OCCUPATIONS

I was surprised to learn that there are many occupations suitable for HFA people.  Temple Grandin, a famous person with autism is a specialist in humane euthanasia of farm animals.  She was diagnosed with autism at age 3 and her mother was advised to put her in an institution.  Her mother eschewed the advice and enrolled her in private schools.  My point in injecting this information into my research is Temple Grandin is autistic, has a PhD and is a noted scientist and lecturer. 

When my grandson Eric was first diagnosed, the doctor told my daughter

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that Eric would never talk.  Eric is 9 years old and is very verbal in his

communications.  Although not all autistic children may rise to this level of competence, it is important to give them a chance. 

There are some occupations that are particularly suited to those with autism.  The following quote was found online in the “Disability Resource Directory”:

“In terms of employment

, autistic adults usually are best suited to jobs that address their particular strengths. According to research, autistic adults generally have limited short-term memory, but excellent long-term memory compared to most people. In addition,

there are support groups and services that help autistic adults take care of themselves.”³   

In looking for occupations that are suitable for autistic personalities, I found there is quite a variety. 

“Many of the very same traits that can make fitting into society a challenge have become the foundation of successful careers for people with autism.

^{3 http://www.disabilty –resource.com/Autism/index.html}

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“Traits common to the autistic mind, such as the need for structure and intense focus on interests, can be an assets in the work force. Office politics and gossip, often the cause of workplace strife, tend to be of little interest to employees with autism, and complex systems that baffle many of us are often easily understood by individuals with autism.”⁴

As previously stated, being successful in employment first hinges on interests.  Temple Grandin’s  extreme interest in animals led her to her field of expertise in the humane treatment of farm animals.  Fields where human interaction or emotional communications are limited may be good areas of employment.  For example, an autistic individual may not make the best psychotherapist because of their lack of empathy or understanding of human emotions.  They may, however, find a job as, for example, a computer programmer  rewarding, and be successful at it because it deals with inanimate objects that do not require deciphering unpredictable situations.

 The web site, “lovetoknow.com” lists several areas where autistic individuals can find success in employment.  Most of these fields have several things in common.  Some of these things include, adherence to

^{4  http://autism.lovetoknow.com/Careers_for_People_with_Autism}

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routine, the ability to work autonomously and structure, all of which are essential to persons with autism.

SCHOOL

In doing my research, I was also concerned if Eric might be able to attend college or vocational studies, if he so chooses.  I read parts of a book called, aquamarine blue 5, which is a group of essays written by college students with autism.  Many of the students talk about the difficulties they had relating with other students and instructors.  Many of the students were diagnosed late in life, unlike many children today who may be diagnosed before they enter school.  For many, the diagnosis of autism was a relief in explaining the idiosyncrasies that permeated their personalities.  One such person in the book, known as “Gary” described his feelings in this way:

          “…I was so relieved to realize that I was not the only one with this

condition and that a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders.”⁵

Many of the students that wrote for this book expressed the same feelings. 

^{5  Prince-Hughes, Dawn, Aquamarineblue5.  Swallow Press/Ohio University Press, Athens, Ohio, 2002}

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However in describing their school experience, many did well in actual classes because there are many different types of individuals in college

and HFA individuals don’t stand out so much in a crowd.  Because they are in a setting where disparities are not as noticeable, as say, high school, they were able to assimilate more easily and achieve more success.  Not to say that they were not distinct in their mannerisms, but they were not as obvious being in a group where others were also different.  Because college is more specialized, they were able to study subjects that were of interest to them and have more success.

THE FUTURE

No one can predict the future, but this research has given me great hope for Eric.  Some of his interests may develop into strengths as he transitions into adulthood and the workforce.  His ability to study and focus on a subject will help him absorb the tasks and jobs that he may show an aptitude for.  He may choose to attend college and with the right supports, such as understanding teachers and peers, he can expect to excel at anything he puts his mind to.

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 One thing I learned that is important for everyone to know, just in the short time of starting my research, the incidence of autism increased from one in 110 diagnosed to one in 88.  The diagnosis of autism isn’t going away anytime soon and society at large will have a population of children becoming adults. 

There needs to be more programs available to help them achieve independence.  And more than anything, there needs to be more understanding.  Not all people come out of a cookie cutter mold and autistic persons want to have success like everyone else. 

I want to end with a quote that was in a movie I watched this winter called, “A Smile as Big as the Moon”.  This movie was based on a book written by a special education teacher and chronicled his efforts to help his class realize a goal to attend Space Camp, a program for gifted children. 

“I’ve worked with special needs kids for far too long to romanticize their accomplishments. There are no simple solutions for any of them. These are basically good kids who’ve been dealt a bad hand. They live their lives on the margins. Their classroom is a metaphor for their existence. It’s out of the way at the far end of the

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basement. It’s like a cell block with bad air, bad light,  no windows to the outside world. And outside the classroom, not much is asked of them nor is much expected. Can they try your patience? Yes, they can. And do they sometimes break your heart? Yes sir, they certainly do. But there are times – remarkable moments…when more is asked of them and more is expected of them. And they rise to the occasion, gratefully, gladly, just to remind you of the remarkable power of the human spirit.”⁶

^{6  Rossi, Tony.  A Smile as Big as the Moon.  26 January 2012, http://www.pathos.com}

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

http://autism.lovetoknow.com/Careers_for_People_with_Autism

Website discusses career strengths for people with autism, including why these careers are good choices and traits that make a person a good fit

http://www.cdc.gov/Features.CountingAutism/

Statistics regarding the increase in autism, also discusses incidences of autism in relation to sex, ethnicity

http://www.disability-resource.com/Autism/index/html

Clearinghouse for information regarding autism and resources available to families.  Also discusses traits and various interventions available to individuals desiring to enter the workforce

http://www.pathos.com/blogs/christophers/2012/01/a-smile-as-big -as-the-moon/

Review of made-for- television movie by the same name.  Movie features the struggles of a special education high school teacher who attempts to get his class accepted into Space Camp, a science camp specifically

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designed for gifted students.  Quote was the highlight of the movie, as the

teacher tries to get administration to understand life through the children’s eyes

Prince-Hughes, Dawn.  Aquamarineblue5.  Swallow Press/Ohio University Press, Athens, Ohio, 2002

Essays by several college students with autism spectrum disorder.  Details their triumphs and struggles with autism in college as well as society at large.

Essay 10

I reread the instructions for the essay 10 and realized it didn’t have to be about dirt, it could be about something dirty and disgusting.  Immediately, I thought of my dog.  Now PJ is a very nice dog.  She is part Labrador and part Newfoundland, at least the vet agrees with me that she probably is.  She is 15 years old and won’t live forever.  She is a patient dog who demands little attention.  But some of her care and upkeep are dirty and disgusting, as you will see.

PJ and I have some of the same ailments that plague people as we get older.  Whereas I am resigned to the fact that I have to take various pills and potions to maintain my health, PJ must be cajoled and coaxed.  She doesn’t take her pills willingly and I no longer want to fight with her.  Luckily, I found a nifty little product called “Pill Pockets”.  You put the pill in a tasty (to a dog) morsel and give it to the dog.  “Pill Pockets” come in different flavors.  She doesn’t like the chicken but likes the beef.  I went to the pet store to get her some pockets and all they had was chicken and duck.  Well, maybe she’ll like duck, I thought.  So I purchased a pack and took it home.

I remember a “20/20” episode that talked about how the stinkier and dirtier something was, the more dogs liked it.  Ain’t that the truth?  I opened the packet and the worst smell I have ever purchased immediately filled my nostrils.   Are you kidding me?  That’s disgusting!  But not to PJ.  She danced around and wolved down that pocket like it was some fine dining experience.  She looked to me like I'm the next "Iron Chef".  But I closed that bag as fast as I could. Now that I know what to expect each morning, I hold my breath as I open the bag and wash my hands as soon as I’m done.  That stuff permeates the air and penetrates my skin. 

Another of PJ’s revolting upkeep is her unmentionable toilet habits.  Gary Larson, of  “Far Side” fame had a cartoon that showed aliens watching a man pick up his dog’s excrement and they figured that the dog was the higher life form.  I tend to agree.  I take PJ out each morning and evening to relieve herself.  I carry a little freezer bag with me and scoop up her doo doo and take it back to the can I keep for storage it until I can get to the dump.  She is very particular about where she goes, I guess it must smell properly disgusting, but when the spot is right, there she goes.  I wonder what the Martians watching me must think.

Ever since I brought PJ home when she was three months old, she has a habit that is literally sickening.  About once a month, she throws up.  Now, I don’t feed her table scraps, only the finest dog food will do.  But she has done this ever since I got her.  One time, a friend was visiting and PJ deposited her lunch in front of my  friend’s feet.  My friend tried to keep from heaving as I ran for the dustpan.  Luckily, I only had to clean up after PJ and not my friend, too.

Yes, my dear dog PJ is one in a million.  She is good with the grandkids, putting up with their pulling her tail and running after her.  She has never offered to bite these rascals and seems to enjoy their company.  I will miss her when her time comes because she is an integral part of our family.   I may even miss the repugnant duties that are part of her upkeep.

Example Essay

Accessories

There’s an old saying; “clothes make the man”.  And if that is true of men, then perhaps accessories make the woman.  Accessories, frills, embellishments; all the things that deck out a woman.  Some women carry fancy bags, some wear elaborate hair trappings.  And some, like me, try to hide the effects of aging with make-up.  I read an essay by a woman who never wore make-up until she was 50.  As the lines in her face deepened, she hearkened to her niece who was a make-up artist.  When she saw the difference in her face, she became a convert.  She observed, rightly, that older women don’t need more make-up, just more coverage.  If you want proof, just compare Tammy Faye Bakker to Christie Brinkley.  The writer also remarked that none of us will ever look 25 again, but at least we can keep people guessing.  Not all make-up is created equal, though and I present some examples below.

I recently bought a popular brand of make-up, “Physician’s Formula”, that promised to make me look ten years younger.  Who could resist that?  Certainly not me.  I bought the brand and when I got home, I locked myself in the bathroom, make-up brushes at the ready.  I dotted on concealer and then slathered the foundation on top.  I don’t look ten years younger!  I look like a kabuki doll!  My face looks pasty and sick.  The wrinkles and pores are more prominent than before and the concealer didn’t conceal anything.  The powder sits on my face like dust on the refrigerator.  The physician who developed this should have his license revoke.  Talk about false advertising!  Throw this one in the trash.

In my quest to find the perfect make-up, I decided to try “Maybelline”.  Here is another example of false advertising.  Now, “Maybelline” has been around a long time.  I have tried their popular mascara, “Great Las” a couple of times, thinking that there must be something wrong with me that my lashes don’t look great like the advertisement promised.  But each time I use it, they remain mediocre.  But I have great hopes for the foundation, though.  This make-up is called “FIT ME” and is advertised as being light on your skin.  It is not supposed to settle in the wrinkles and crevices that make up my face.  It is supposed to be a perfect “fit” for my skin.  I apply it carefully with a make-up brush and scrutinize my face in the mirror.  Ack!  I have jaundice!  No, but I have a distinct yellow cast to my skin.  And the wrinkles and pores are clearly defined.  The make-up sets on my skin like a layer of icing.  I try to rub it into my skin, but there it sets.  And now my palms are covered.  I don’t have time to remove it, so all the way into work, I try to rub it in so it won’t be noticeable, but to no avail.  Another thud in the can.

Now, normally, I use a line of product by a company called “L’Oreal”.  Their claims aren’t too spectacular, “because you’re worth it”.   A little pricey, but it does the job.  You might ask why I try other brands if I have a product I am comfortable with.  Vanity, pure vanity.  “L’Oreal is a good brand.  I use the mousse make-up.  It is really light, not greasy and although it doesn’t cover all my wrinkles, it doesn’t claim it will.  It gives good coverage to the redness on my skin and covers the pores pretty well.  I think it is as close to perfect as I will get.

There are many types of foundation out there, all with their own claims to skin perfection.  And as I get older, I look in the mirror and sometimes don’t recognize the face looking back at me.  Can you blame me for wanting to preserve a little of the girl I use to know?  But as I said earlier, no one will ever mistake me for 25 again.  And I don’t think I want to be.  But when I put on my make-up and look in the mirror, I want to feel attractive and not repulse too many people.  And when my husband tells me I am more beautiful than when we first married, I know I’ve succeeded.

Essay 10

Dirt, Mother earth, soil, dust, mud.  I love the smell of fresh-turned dirt.  Of soil after a summer’s rain.  Of a freshly rototilled garden.  Children playing in the mud.  Feeling alive as I dig and dig to plant seedlings.  Dirt is what we came from.  The Bible says “for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”  Dirt is fun if you’re a little kid, not so fun if you are an adult cleaning the little kid.  But dirt is essential to life.

I had a friend whose mother was not like mine.  My mother was always worried about keeping things clean.  Wipe that up, don’t track that dirt in the house.  Disgusting.   But my friend’s mother was different.  After a morning rain, she took her children outside and encouraged them to play in the mud.  “Feel the dirt between your toes.  How does it feel?  Go ahead and get dirty, enjoy the feeling.  Your clothes will wash.”  She urged them to experience the soil.  Her family always had a big garden and they learned from their mother that dirt was not some disgusting thing to be avoided.  It has a vital purpose in this world and can be enjoyed without fear of repercussion.

Although I own numerous pairs of garden gloves, I almost never use them.  When I plant seedlings, I want to feel where I am planting them, so I use my bare hands.  I can feel the dirt and pick up the worms so they aren’t damaged by my trowel.  I love the feel of warm earth in my hands.  Earth is life.  It harbors living organisms that nourish the seeds I sow.  Dirt has nutrients that are vital to existence.

My children liked to play in the dirt.  I gave them spoons so they could dig.  Yes, they came into the house all sweaty and dirty, and of course, I didn’t want it all through the house.  But I was somewhere between my friend’s mother and my own.  I would strip the kids off and wash their clothes, but I didn’t fuss too much about the dirt they tracked in.  Dirt can be swept, washed, laundered and disposed of.  But children are only young once.  And God has given them skin that doesn’t stain permanently, fingernails that can be cleaned.  And so I let them play in the dirt.

Dirt is the foundation of this world.  It sustains life.  In the winter, plants die in the frozen ground,  but when spring comes and the earth warms under the sun, life revives.  It inspires little hands that dig for worms, construct makeshift roads, sow their first seeds.  Dirt is the essence of life.

Cause Essay II

Have you ever heard the saying, “The devil made me do it?”  If you have, you’re showing your age; if not, you’re culturally deprived.  This was a trendy catch phrase of the early ‘70’s, made popular by the comedian Flip Wilson.  Anyway, the jest of the saying was that any decision (primarily a bad one) was the responsibility of someone else.  It’s a good way to avoid accountability; to place the blame on others.  And so, without further ado, I am about to embark on some blaming for my move to Maine.  I intend to place blame on others, and a little on myself. 

Many years ago, my husband, Steve, served in the US Army.  Somewhere in the middle of his career, he permanently injured his back in the line of duty.  Whether it was from jumping out of airplanes or into foxholes, it matters not.  He injured his back.  Toward the end of his career, he faced a medical discharge and we faced a life-altering decision; where would we go.  At the time of his discharge, I was pregnant with our fifth child and more than a little worried about what would happen to our family.  No job, no home, no support.  We decided to move to Arizona; the Army would relocate us and Steve had been stationed in the area previously.  As I shared this information with my mother, she made a suggestion that would alter the course of our lives. It was because of her suggestion, my brother-in-law’s proposal and my own insecurities, that we abandon Arizona for Maine.

My mother suggested that we could come home and live with her and my father indefinitely in their big, old, four bedroom house.  This house was given to my parents by my grandfather before he died.  Well, maybe not given; he sold it to them for $25.00.  My parents had lived with my grandfather off and on through the years; the last stint being 6 years before his death.  Now, there was just my parents living in the house.  Because I hadn’t been home in 8 years and, as I  previously stated, was pregnant, I was anxious to be somewhere with familial support. 

But there were little things that made me uncomfortable.  My parents were pretty set in their ways.  For one, my father was tight with a dime; I half expected that he could squeeze it so tight, he could make two.  I knew that if the light bill was a nickel more than usual, or we used too much water, he would throw a fit.  My mother, on the other hand, often made assurances that she later regretted.  For example, my sister moved home with her family before we returned to Maine.  At first, my mother was all excited about having her grandchildren home, but as reality set in and a change to her routine developed, she began to look for ways to rid herself of them.  Eventually, she gave them a week to leave.  Luckily, my sister had supportive in-laws who had a house that they could rent.  Unlucky for me, I didn’t find out about my mother kicking my sister out until mom kicked my family out.  But my mother reassured me that everything would work out fine and I was persuaded that my parents had changed since I last saw them 8 years ago.   I convinced my husband that maybe it would be better to move back to Maine.

When my brother-in-law, Jere, found out we would be returning to the east coast, he became excited and offered to help my husband get a job with the State of Massachusetts.  My brother-in-law held a high-ranking position with MassHealth and just knew with his connections, and Steve’s military experience, he could get Steve a job in a matter of weeks.  One more reason to move back to Maine.  The kids and I could stay with my parents until Steve got a job and then relocate.  See all the support we had?  Why wouldn’t this be an ideal situation? 

Unfortunately, things didn’t work out as planned or promised.  My primary reason for moving home, familial support, started to ebb away.  Whereas initially, my mother poo-pooed my concerns about being a burden, she began to grumble about how much electricity we were using and how high the water bill was becoming.  Securing a job for Steve was much more difficult than Jere thought.  Veteran’s credentials are not as valued in the civilian community and the several jobs Steve might have acquired were filled by other candidates.  And he had that bad back thing.  I had my baby, but his presence didn’t help ease the tensions at home.  My father barely spoke to us and my mother was angry all the time.  I tried to make sure the kids were quiet and kept up mom’s housework, but she wanted her life back and set the wheels in motion.  By Labor Day weekend, she told us we had to be out of the house by “cold weather”. 

I was devastated.  The main reason we moved back to Maine were the promises made by my mother.  Before we moved back, it was she that said we would probably get tired of her, not the other way around, as I had alluded to her during the fateful telephone call.  And Jere started to get discouraged that he was unable to help Steve get a job and he began to back off from his offer.   And, of course, I began to panic.  What had I done, putting my little family in this position?  All because I was homesick?  We moved, ironically, into a house owned by my sister’s in-laws.  The house had been for sale for 15 years, we should be okay there, right?  The next month, the house sold.

Well, here I am, living in Maine for the last 17 years.  I still wonder what it would have been like to move to Arizona.  Would I be happier?  Richer?  Is the grass really greener on the other side?  I may never know.  But in the end, I blame myself because the warning signs were there.  But since my mother assured me that we would be no burden and could stay as long as we wanted, I jumped.  My brother-in-law’s confidence in helping Steve get a job added to the reasons to move.   But in the end, it was my own desire to be with family I hadn’t seen in years that was my downfall.  I hope I have learned a lesson:  that only I (and my husband) have our best interests at heart.