the small journey of John Big John

Summer Movie List 2010 volume 1

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-07-22T01:51:00Z

This blog entry will represent two things:

#1

My love for movies....especially summer movies. I try to see them all...even the ones the critics have sliced open and left to die on the beaches of pop culture.

and...

#2

That I am too apathetic to actually write out any detailed reviews of my thoughts on the many movies I see.

So to bridge the gap between those two things I am going to give a one sentence movie review for each of the summer movies I sat and munched popcorn during. I realize that some of you will feel the need to argue with me about some of these movies. Please don't. You are wrong. I am right.   At least the voices in my head tell me I am...

Actually if you have any disagreements or thoughts on any of the films please share!

Here goes:

IRON MAN 2 - Not as good as the first because it is a lot less fun and carries more emotional baggage than any mother-in-law you may know. GRADE: B -

SPLICE - I have no Earthly Clue how most movie critics came to like this repeat "jump the mutant shark" offender...it's creepy in all the ways a horror movie should not be. GRADE: D

DATE NIGHT - Really funny once, but not so funny the second time, which means it is no classic...but still it' is a refreshing change of pace from all the other comedies that have been coming out lately. GRADE: B

A-TEAM - Took me by the hand and brought me back to the mid 80's with impossible action and really fun characters! GRADE: B +

GET HIM TO THE GREEK - Reminded why I am so sick of Seth Rogan Lite, (aka Jonah Hill) and how audiences have to be beaten over the head with unoriginal drug humor. GRADE: C

CLASH OF THE TITANS - Almost made me rip my eyes and ears off to stop the pain of witnessing one of my favorite stories be treated with such sacrilege in what became the worst movie I have seen in a looooong time. GRADE: F

THE KARATE KIT - Much better than I thought it was going to be and made my children want to learn how to kick me in the face! GRADE: B-

SHREK FOREVER AFTER - Good Lord....please stop making these movies.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......   GRADE: C - - -

KNIGHT AND DAY - It was a pretty fun movie with two good looking and charismatic stars, so why is it so forgettable? GRADE :C +

PREDATORS - My high hopes for this movie was assaulted with a truly terrible script and a hero in Adrian Brody who was really unbelievable.   GRADE: D +

DESPICABLE ME - It's no Toy Story 3, but it's not bad either thanks to Steve C,his Minions, and a cool soundtrack! GRADE: B

THE SORCERERS APPRENTICE - It has a very predictable formula that managed to keep me engage throughout with a smattering of nice effects and good chemistry between Cage and Baruchel. GRADE: C+

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON - Really funny with a good story and has more of a message in it than any after school special I have ever watched! GRADE B +

INCEPTION - Easily one of my favorite movies this summer because it challenged me, entertained me, and left me on the edge of my seat waiting on the outcome of a spinning top....loooooved it! GRADE: A

TOY STORY 3 - Met the all the hype and then some while extending the streak of amazing films that Pixar releases. GRADE: A

Here are some movies that came out a while ago that I finally got around to seeing:

VALENTINES DAY - Hollywood, here is a hint....don't have so many characters that you want me to care about because there is a limit and you ruined this film by thinking I wanted to see love from 45 different points of view...I just want it from one!!!! Jerks!! ( I know I broke my rule for the one sentence thing...but...this deserved it) GRADE: D

THE INVENTION OF LYING - As a Ricky G fan I am sad that this did not end up being as good as it could have been...left me kind of down in the dumps and not really caring about the outcome of the story. GRADE C- - -

THE ROAD - Was the most depressing end of the world movie ever with it's hopeless characters, ash covered landscape, and periods of slow and painful dialog.....if the makes of this movie wanted me to feel bad they did a good job. GRADE: C

INVICTUS - I was expecting to be swept of my feet but who cares when the story is blandly told and edited in a manner that makes me hate the sport I am being asked to cheer for. B - (only because Washington and Damon do a really nice job)

So it looks like the big winners are:

and

With the two losers being:

and

A Return To Walking

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-07-21T23:33:00Z

                                                 Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake. ~Wallace Stevens

I have not walked much this summer.   I can't really pinpoint the reason why that is. Last summer I would often find myself walking twice a day around Cheyenne's biggest lake. Which I understand is akin to pointing out who Snow White's toughest Dwarf...Cheyenne is not know for their large bodies of water. What we are known for is rodeo's, bored teenagers, pot holes, and the fact that we are surrounded by enough nukes to, if launched, to possibly put a dent in Donald Trumps ego. The path around the lake is pretty small, but for me, it is rancid with memories of my youth. With each nook, cranny, grove of trees, and bend in the path I am stolen back to my childhood. That is why the path around Sloans Lake is my walk of choice.

Sloans Lake.   Where Jimmy Hoffa came to rest...and where John comes to walk.

When I was walking...but I have not been walking much this summer...

There are probably hundreds of little tiny excuses I could provide you with to explain my absence from the path. To be sure, on top of the list should be the fact that I am, in fact, remarkably lazy. I have the ambition of a dead rabbit...which is an insult to dead rabbits everywhere because they at least have enough get up and go to decompose. I think that if today were my last spin around the Earth I would not even have the energy to melt into worm chum. The simple thought of stomping my Bilbo Baggins-ish legs around the lake lately has the same appeal of having my liver chewed on my zombie trucker while being forced to listen to the music of The Steve Miller Band. (it should be noted for anyone who needs reminding that The Steve Miller Band scores a 10 on the Suck-a-meter ™. )

I can also place some of the blame on why I have not been walking on my missing IPOD. My sweet little IPOD was my walking buddy. Without my IPOD (which I believe was stolen by Russian Special Forces to try and ensure that I don't walk and thereby gain an extra ten pounds, which will make me useless in combat when the Red Army hits us like they did in Red Dawn. WOLVERINES!!!!) I am unwilling and perhaps semi-unable to walk without my IPOD. Like a villain in a Daytime Soap Opera I need a soundtrack. While the whispers of wind sifting through the giant elms, the singing of birds, and the sounds of children playing is good enough audio background for most Sloans Lake Walkers, for me it serves a distraction. When I walk I am not interested in spending my time outward listening to the world...I like to fall inward and listen to my own conscience.

Walking was my one time (sometimes twice) a day that I could spend in reflection, and in meditation. With each jumbled step from my uneven and waddled gape I would help pound out the worries of the day on the concrete below. My walks would give me the time to make decisions on the issues that were firmly implanted on the fence of my mental congress. Without my daily walks I am finding myself stuck on the worry...without my daily walks I am finding myself not making any decisions. I feel immobile in a non-walking funk.

Which I realize sounds like a bad thing, and maybe it is. Lately I have been feeling without a strong sense of purpose, and with more doubts that the Public Relations Director of The Vatican. I have felt like I am going nowhere in a world where everybody seems to be going somewhere. Everyone is trying to catch their metaphorical trains, and I am just sitting on the platform eating my ice cream cone and content watching everyone hustle around me. When I was walking I felt like I was at least going somewhere...even if it was just in a big circle around a lake.

With all those feelings swimming in my Orca-sized emotional dunk tank that is my heart I decided it was time to start walking again today. Did my first jaunt around under the canopy of grand trees cure me of my lack of motivation? Nope. Not in the slightest. Which kind of makes me glad. Right now I am perfectly content watching everyone catch their trains. Instead my walk gave me a rare moment of clarity where two thoughts came racing in my head from what, I am sure was a divine source:

1) I am out of shape. Like Paul Blart: Mall Cop kind of out of shape. I am convinced that I would lose in a foot race to a donut.

2) Ducks are loud. Really loud. The other walkers found it endearing, I found it arrogant. We get it...you can be loud. I can dance the Lambada, (THE FORBIDDEN DANCE!) that doesn't mean I am going to subject anyone else at the Park to it. Get over yourselves ducks.

Like Samuel L. Jackson, who informed the other passengers on the ill fated plane ride that it was time to get t"he something-something snakes off of the something-something plane", I too came to the realization that it is time to get my Oompa Loompa tush in gear. If nothing else but to work off the daily breakfast burrito's that hibernate in my belly at around 8:45 every morning. So if you'll excuse me I am off to walk again. Before I go has anyone noticed that Geese seem to be pooping more these days? I know I have been gone for a year...but sheesh...maybe it is time for them to visit a dietician.

Walk On.

I Hate Preston But I Love The DLI

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-07-13T04:10:00Z

Most of the time when I start a blog entry I only get through a few sentences before I decide to flush down into the cyber-sewer. It seems like this has been happening a lot for frequently with me whenever I sit down and try to write something.

The problem is I have a jerk of an editor in my head. He is quick to tell me that my post is either too snarky, too lame, too pollical, too self-grandizing, too bland, too risky, or too suck-tacular to post for other people to read. I use the "he" in referring to my editor because I envision it as a sour-faced dude wearing a bow tie who likes to shake his head and sigh with disapproval with each snap of the keypad. He looks like his name should be Preston...so I will call him Preston from now on.

Here is what I imagine Preston looks like:

Creepy Huh?

Preston is the ultra-lord of all pricks. If there were a convention of all pricks in the known universe he would give the keynote that would be entitled "How to ruin the lives of anyone and smile doing, while on a budget, for dummies".

I didn't have Preston rolling around in my head when I was younger. (Holy cow that sentence makes it look like I need to be seeking some professional help. I don't think there is a problem...but if I am arrested for burning down Cheyenne because "Preston told me to" then maybe direct the investigators to this entry) I used to be able to sit down and write without constant worry. I wish I could go back to those days.

The real problem is that I think Preston is expanding his influence over the part of my brain that secretes self-doubt. I have begun living my life with that blasted editor whispering in my ear every five seconds. My concern over what other people think about me has reached an all-time high. It seems like I am fixated on everybody liking me.  I hate doing that. I wish Preston would choke on some invisible sea bass and leave me the hell alone. I censure, omit, and obscure parts of who I am from people because I feel like I should be coming in with a high score on he Daily Likeability Index. (DLI)

The Daily Likeability Index (DLI) is the way how I rate how "liked" (thank you Facebook for making the word "liked part of our vocab) myself, someone else, an object, an idea, etc is by other people. Everyday the DLI can shift and move based on events in the world...so it is a very fluid thing. In my head I keep a running tally on The Daily Likeability Index. Apparently I keep this index right next to Preston's little studio apartment.   Things must be getting crowded in there....

My goal has always been to try an register at around 60 % on the DLI. This means that 60 % of the people who know me like me, while the other 40 % either dislike me or have no opinion on me. (If you are on the fence on me I would rather have you hate me then to ignore me.) Scoring a 60 % would put me just ahead of Judge Judy, but just behind The McRib. Here is a quick sample of what today's DLI looks like. These numbers have been crunched by a very reputable accounting firm. I could tell you the name of the firm, but you would never have heard of them. So don't ask. Please.

DAILY LIKEABILITY INDEX (DLI) FOR JULY 12th, 2010

Δ   Denotes a score that has been rising lately

V   Denotes a score that has been sinking lately

100 %   ( Means Everybody (even you) Likes It!)

Tax Refunds
Rainbows
Betty White Δ
Putting on socks that just came out of the dryer
Smooth Airplane rides
Getting off with a warning from a police officer
Neil Armstrong
Being Loved

90 % ( Most Everyone Likes It! If You Don't, You Are Probably Sick)

Fuzzy Kittens
Rice Krispie Treats
Pixar Movies
Catching Someone Picking their nose
Nelson Mandela
Snow on Christmas Morning
Jimmy Buffet
Getting Flowers
The Queen of England
Habitat for Humanity
The Opening Ceremony of The Olympics Δ
Eating Breakfast for Dinner
Call for, and then riding "Shotgun" on a long car trip
30 + year old people being told they look much younger
Dr. Suess

80 % (A great deal of people like these things. Don't argue with them, they are right, and you are wrong)

Jumbotrons
Early Elvis Presley
Issac from The Love Boat
Stop Signs
Fart Jokes
Morgan Freeman
Watching Superbowl Commercials
Sleeping In
The Muppets
Maya Angelou
Ice Cream
Water Parks
Watching High Speed Chases
Pizza
Meryl Streep Δ
Getting a Massage
Chocolate
Sunny Weather
Singing in the shower
Water Parks

70 % ( Not as many people like this stuff )

Movie Theater Popcorn
Facebook V
Roller Coasters
Underdogs
Natalie Portman
Salt
Old Spice Commercials Δ
Owning a puppy
Firemen
Sunrises and Sunsets
Bob Costas
Fletch
Homecooked Meals
Wearing Underwear
Cool Breezes
Movies directed by Martin Scorcazie
The Internet      V (Prince said the internet is dying...so...it has been downgraded)
Simon Cowell
Procrastinating
Going to Weddings
Steve Carrel
Having Dinner with friends
Monet Paintings
Run DMC
Coke
Ellen Degeneres On Her Own Show
80's Music
Re-runs of Cheers
William Shatner as "Captain Kirk"
The Barenaked Ladies

60 % ( Uh-Oh. Only a slight majority of people like these selections. One slip up and they could go under the 50 % mark)

Chick-Filet Δ Δ
Riding a bike
The Bible
Checking Email Every Five Minutes
Bubblewrap V
The Scarecrow
Having Brunch
Hugh Grant
Faking Cell Phone Calls To Get Out of Awkward Social Situations
Not Asking For Directions
Oprah V V
The Lochness Monster V
Wi-Fi Δ Δ
Mr. Clean Magic Erasers
Second Guessing Other People's Decisions
David Letterman
The McRib
Episodes of Scooby Doo without Scrappy Doo
Using Crosswalks
Jim Carrey
Price Is Right Models
Stephen King Books
Wearing Contacts
The Music of Madonna
Watching The Homerun Derby in Baseball
Filtered or Bottled Water
Signing the National Anthem During Sporting Events
Kevin Costner
Cameron Diaz
Parades
Chapstick

50 % ( The Biggest list. These represent the frontlines to arguments between friends and family)

Starbucks
Seinfeld
Judge Judy
Texting Δ
Pink Floyd
Family Reunions
Actually Watching The Superbowl
Jim Belushi
Lawn Work
Our Significant Others
Tina Fey
Motorcycles
Going Camping
Wearing Seat belts
Love at First Sight
Canada
Taking Baths
Carnival Games
Johnny Cash
Broccoli
Tattoo's Δ
The Thundercats
Cable News V V
Laura Bush
Movies based on novels about whiny, lovesick, mopey, self-absorbed vampires, and the mortal depressive women who unashamedly stalk them Δ Δ Δ
Conan O'Brien
Glee
Making Eye Contact
Paula Abdul
Talking During Movies
Sushi
Michael Moore Documentaries
Plaid
The Lilith Fair Δ Δ

40 % ( These things are only liked by a slight minority. If you like one of these, you know something the rest of us don't)

Your Local News (Outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming)
Wood Allen Movies
Miley Cyrus V V V
Ramen Noodles
Shaving
The Tinman
Country Music Δ
The View
Eminem Δ Δ Δ
Intentionally Slowing Down When Someone Behind Us Is Tailgating us
Skiing
Twitter Δ
Voting
Driving A Stickshift
The Number 7
Zombies Δ Δ
3D Movies Δ Δ Δ Δ
Van Halen With David Lee Roth
Yogurt
Ellen Degeneres On American Idol V V V
Mixed Martial Arts Δ Δ
Bigfoot
Being Our Own Worst Critic
International Travel
Playing Video Games
Flossing V
Angelina Jolie Adoption Stories V V V V
Thor Δ Δ
Spiderman V V

30 % ( Only 3 of 10 people like these things. I just did that math in my head!)

MySpace
The Census
Fletch Lives
Actually Watching The Olympics
Pokemon
Rush Limbaugh
Doing Math In Your Head ( Sweet!)
The Clapper
Showing Up On Time
2012 V V
Reading For Fun V
The Word "Bling" V V
Skydiving
Michael Moore
The Phrase "Fair and Balanced" V
Traveling by Train
Coldplay V
Going to Your Prom
Making Yourself Vomit All Over Your Screen Every time Someone Uses "LOL" Δ Δ
Getting Eight Hours Of Sleep V V V
The Barenaked Ladies Without Stephen Page
Watching Reality TV Δ
Being Told How Amazing Kurt Cobain Was And How If You Don't Agree You Don't Understand Music
Voldermort Δ
Parallel Parking V V
Knock Knock Jokes
TMZ
USC Football
The NRA Δ ( um..yikes)
Fancy Moustaches Δ (um...woo hoo!)

20 %   (If you like anyone these things it is promised that your friends and neighbors talk about you in a hushed whisper)

Episodes of Scooby Doo With Scrappy Doo in Them
Preventive Medicine
Writing With a Pencil
Celebrity Opinions on Anything V V V
Dane Cook
Watching Golf
Imitation Cheese
Putting Together Furniture
Kathy Griffith Δ Δ
Movies With Talking Babies
Julie From The Love Boat
Michael Landon Jokes ( I have personally researched this one)
The Feeling You Get An Hour After You Eat At McDonalds
Mel Gibson V V V V
Owning and Caring For A Dog Once it is no Longer a Puppy
Timeless Expressions Like "Even a Busted Watch is Right Twice a Day!" V
The Cowardly Lion
Analog TV     V V V
Helping Someone Move
The Music Of Don Johnson
Praying
Long Division
The Idea That Debbie Gibson and Tiffany Will Star Together In Monster Movie Δ Δ Δ Δ
Lebron James V V V
The Local News In Cheyenne Wyoming! V V

10 %   ( This is reserved for the radical and crazy members of our society)

Snookie and The Situation From Jersey Shore
Movies With Slyvester Stalone does not kill somebody, blow something up, or train really hard.
Olive Garden V
Beets
Smiling Δ
Lance Armstrong Now That He Is Not Going To Win Another Tour De France V
Lucy From The Peanuts
Watching Re-runs of Webster
Traveling By Burro
Musak
Reading Other People's Blogs
Going to Class Reunions
The French Δ
Watching Baseball
Republicans V
Democrats V
Eating Healthy
Having A Sense Of Humor About Yourself
Elvis Presley - The Later Years
Political Statements on Facebook V V
Rabid Monkey Attacks Δ
Taking Drivers Ed
Paperwork
Blind Dates
Washing the Feet Of The Poor
Checking Voicemail
Lindsay Lohan Fingernail Polish Δ Δ
The Federal Govt. V V

0 % ( If nobody in the world likes something does it still exist?)

The Music Of Celine Dion V
Being Eaten By Sharks V
Being Abducted By Aliens Who Are Curious How Our Colon Works V
Watching QVC V
Tap Water In Mexico City
The Prospect of More SAW Movies V
BP Oil V V V V V V V V V V V V
Roadkill
People Who Cheat At Senior Citizen Bingo
News Stories About Jordan Vanderslout ( I don't care enough to even google it to check if I spelled it right!)
Discovering Hubba Bubba Gum Stuck To The Bottom Of Your Shoe
Preston

That is just a sample of the DLI. I am always worried if I start sinking down below 50 % likeability. So I make sure I don't make waves, speak up, serve passionately, write anything compelling, or any other activity that can affect my ranking on the DLI. Which is a pretty sissy way of living. If there is anything I have learned in my four months of intensive writing classes it is to become more true to my own voice without worrying about what anyone else may think. I need to start applying that to my everyday life.

I was once told by someone I greatly respect that if 50 % of the people dislike you it means you are doing something right. So I need to piss off 10 % more people than I typically do. While I work on that I would like to ask Preston to please go straight to imaginary person hell. Which I think may be where Yo Gabba Gabba is filmed.

Goodnight.

Oh, Preston says "Goodnight" too.

Thats not weird. Right? Right....

AC 2010: DAY FIVE "Homeward"

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-06-26T03:36:00Z

Tomorrow is the last day for us up here in the mountains. After having a final meeting with the team of specialists we will begin our trip back down to a much lower elevation.

Though our bodies will be further away from the heavens our hearts and souls will remain high up in the clouds.

Our family is so very thankful to our good friends who introduced us to Adam's Camp over seven years ago. It is amazing how one simple conversation can cause such a positive impact.

I am grateful for the men and women who have donated their hearts and expertise to help these autistic children that made their pilgrimage up here to Snowy Mountain Ranch.

I also want to thank people for the many messages of support that my family and I received while up here. For those of you who are interested in finding out more about Adams Camp please visit:

Adams Camp Website

If you know family who is caring for a child living with autism I cannot recommend this experience enough. It has changed the course of our lives forever.

I know that people sometimes get tired of me going on and on about Autism. I get it. I am frankly sometimes tired of doing it. The sad truth is Autism is not going away. It is going to become a major part of our national discussion over the next ten years. The scores of young people who are diagnosed today are growing up and are going to have a pretty strong voice that will be demanded to be heard. Plus the rates of those diagnosed keeps skyrocketing year after year. Not because this is some sort of neurological fad...but because there is something going on.

1 in evert 110 children is being hit with Autism. That is a 600 % increase over the past twenty years.

Sigh...maybe that will be something that will become as newsworthy as Lindsay Lohan missing her court date.

Oh well.

This week has been an amazing one for us. I am aware enough to understand that the trials that will come our way over the next year will try to erode these memories from our minds. I will try not to let the hope and fire that I renewed over the past five days fade away. At the very least these past five wondrous days has given me a reason to still believe.

I still believe that we are doing the right things for our son.

I still believe....

been in a cave
For forty days
Only a spark
To light my way
I wanna give out
I wanna give in
This is our crime
This is our sin

But I still believe
I still believe
Through the pain
And the grief
Through the lives
Through the storms
Through the cries
And through the wars
Oh, I still believe

Flat on my back
Out at sea
Hopin' these waves
Don't cover me
I'm turned and tossed
Upon the waves
When the darkness comes
I feel the grave

But I still believe
I still believe
Through the cold
And through heat
Through the rain
And through the tears
Through the crowds
And through the cheers
Oh, I still believe

I'll march this road
I'll climb this hill
Upon on my knees if I have to
I'll take my place
Up on this stage
I'll wait 'til the end of time
for you like everybody else

I'm out on my own
Walkin' the streets
Look at the faces
That I meet
I feel like I Like I want to go home
What do I feel
What do I know

But I still believe
I still believe
Through the shame
And through the grief
Through the heartache
Through the tears
Through the waiting
Through the years

For people like us
In places like this
We need all the hope
That we can get
Oh, I still believe

AC 2010: DAY FOUR "Love is all I am - A letter from Mr. Noah to you."

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-06-25T04:09:00Z

"Hey Mr. Noah, how was your night?" asked Noah Roedel's extremely attractive and intelligent Father asked him as they drove back to their cabin as the setting sun splashed it's final rays through the gaps in the passing trees.

Noah, who was soaked from head to toe and covered in dirt,mud, and other various natural gunk flashed a look at his two younger brothers who were similarly blanketed in filth and water and smiled a smile bigger than Texas. "My night? My night was the best night ever!!!!" His voice was flooded with conviction to what he was saying. His incredibly macho Father (who looked amazing in his bright orange swordfish shirt) knew that he was listening to his son's sacred testimony. Not only did Noah believe that was he was shouting to be true, his body shone with a joy that would make an archangel a little jealous.

For the rest of the drive home Noah's brilliant and humble father did not say a word. He didn't have to. He just listened to the giggling of his three half-exhausted, half-blissdrunk children as they recounted their adventures from the past few hours.   Noah's Father closed his smoldering eyes and rested his head against the leather back of the passenger chair of the car he was sitting and made a note of how happy he was.

He was happy because he was reminded how amazing the simple things in life can be.   It started out as a water gun fight...but it turned into a breakthrough he had been praying for. His autistic son, Noah was able to, at least for one night, get to be just "one of the boys". This was going to be a night Noah or anyone else in the family would never ever forget.

It was one of those moments of pure raw emotional sweetness that Noah's hypnotically charming father knew was going to pass quickly. He tried to find a way to make an emotional stamp on his heart of this moment so when in the future things seemed hopeless he could draw upon it for strength and comfort. There are many times that Noah's Father, whose skin is smoother than a hand model, needs to connect to past inprints on his heart to find solace...so this was not going to be a new trick for him.

He decided that once he got home to their cabin and he got his still laughing children to sleep,(after an intensive power-shower to wash off the 14 layers of dirt and mountain mucus off their legs) he was going to sit down at the computer and type out a blog...you know...a blog....the thing that Doogie Howser MD invented.

The problem is, once Noah's freakishly sexy father sat down in front of the computer to type about the event that caused his smile to be painted on his perfectly shaped face he found himself at a loss for words. Well...that is not exactly true. He was just a loss for his own words. The words that he could find were from the heart of his son, Noah. So he wrote his blog as if Noah did it. He felt comfortable doing this because just by staring into the eyes of his son that evening he could tell the story that Noah wanted to tell, but was unable to.

Here is what Noah's Daddy wrote on his behalf with eyes flooded with a pool of tears who were waiting to make their slalom.

Hello. I am Noah Andrew Roedel.
I am ten years old and I am going into the fourth grade.
Love is all I am.

I love my Mommy, and my Daddy, and my brother's Riley, and Logan.
I also love my dog Monty. He is a good dog and I like to feed him my Mc'Donald's hamburger when my parents aren't looking.
I also love my old dog Molly who died a couple of years ago. I really miss her. She was kind of fat and made the house smell funny, but I still miss her a lot.

Sometimes I fight with my brothers. They take my stuff sometimes. But you know what my mommy always says? She says "You need to have patience when it comes to being a big brother". Being patient with them is hard sometimes.   But I love my brothers. They are my best friends and they help me when I am sad. And when I am happy it is usually when they are around.

I also love Pokemon'. It's pretty fun to learn all about Pokemon. My daddy kind of looks like a Pokemon. But my daddy doesn't have any special powers, except for the power of growing a really uneven beard. Maybe my daddy should think about re-trying puberty again...I am not sure the first one stuck.

Oh, I also love horses and babies. I am really good with both of them. I love horses because I ride them once a week and they love me a lot too. I love babies because they are so small and cute and I take care of them, and because they love me a lot too.

I don't like tornado's or villains. I think both of those things are stupid. My parent's don't like it when I call things stupid. But I think both of those things are stupid regardless of my parents feelings on the matter. I say what I mean. Sometimes I don't filter the things I say and I am trying to get better at that. It's hard not to say what I think all the time. I mean why should I make it a secret about what I am thinking? That does not make any sense to me. I think keeping secrets is ~~stupid~~ a bad choice.

I think I am a great kid. My daddy tells me and my brothers how awesome we are every night before bed. But sometimes I get really mad at myself. Sometimes I wonder outl loud why my brain does not work like everyone else's. Whenever I say that it freaks my parents out.   I wish my brain was like everyone elses....

I also don't like losing, or when people are mean to me. Those things make me mad and sad at the same time. I wish I never lost a game, ever. But sometimes I lose and it makes my heart hurt. I wish that everyone was nice to me and wanted to play with me.
But sometimes people don't invite me to play with them and it makes my heart hurt. Bad.

I told my mom I wanted to be a doctor when I grow up.

I am having the best week ever!
I have done a lot of really fun things.
I have gone horseback riding, and boat riding, and wall climbing, and go-kart racing, and swimming, and hiking to waterfalls, and meeting a lot of new and really cool people.
I am trying my best to make friends with other kids.
Sometimes that is really hard for me to do that. I have a really hard time understanding them. That sometimes makes me mad.
Making friends with adults is easier than making friends with other kids.
Adults are always very nice to me. Well..they usually are.
Other kids can sometimes be mean to me. Not all kids...just a few of them.
Instead of getting mad at them I have learned to say "Oh Well".
That seems to keep them quiet.
But do you really want to know what makes me the maddest and saddest of all?

It's when other kids forget that I am a kid too.

Sometimes I am too serious and I am afraid to be silly.
So I think that is why other kids sometimes ignore me or never ask me to play.
That makes my heart really really sad.
Like really sad.
It's hard for me to make friends. I am not sure why but it really is.
Kids are usually nice to me for a while. But then they kind of leave me alone and go off with each other.
They seem like they are all having a good time.
But I would at least rather have people be my enemy than for them to just act like I was invisible.
I hate being invisible.

The problem is that when I am invited to play I can't quite understand what the rules of the game are.
Plus I get really excited and kind of do my own thing, which makes it hard for me to follow along with what is going on.
I bet if I could just figure and understand the games that other children play I would be really good at them.

Have I ever told you that french fries are my favorite food?

Just last week I asked my mommy and daddy why I never get asked to sleepovers like the other kids in my class do.
They both looked really sad when I asked them this.
They said it would happen soon.
I didn't really believe them.
I asked my parents why I don't have playdates like my younger brothers do.
They both looked really sad when I asked them this.
They said it would happen soon.
Yeah right.

My daddy asked me yesterday if I was making friends.
I said "I don't know. It's hard to make friends. So maybe I won't have friends".
My daddy stopped asking me about it after that.
Which is okay, because I don't really like being asked a lot of questions.

I saw a movie once when my arm was broken about a little puppet boy who only wanted to become a "real boy".
Sometimes I dream about being a "real boy" too.
I want to play football with my classmates. I want to be invited to the birthday parties.
I want to get dirty playing in the mud.
I want to to be able to understand the punchlines of all the jokes my silly classmate in my school always tries to tell me.
But I never do.

Remember how I was telling you that I was having a really fun week?
Well! I want to tell you about tonight!
MY NIGHT??
MY NIGHT WAS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE!!
I got to be a real boy!

My parents took us to a big party in another cabin where there were a lot of other people.
I played with a big group of other kids..and my little brothers.
We had a huge water gun fight in the woods.
We rolled down dirt hills and chased each other all night.
There were times I had to sit down because I was laughing so hard.
I don't remember ever laughing so much.

The best part was that I wasn't invisible.
Everyone saw me and they wanted to play with me!
Isn't that great???!!!
I think it is!
I dove through bushes while chasing the other children with the coolest water gun anyone has ever had!
Then when my water ran out they would chase me back!
I think I like being chased more than I like chasing.
Because if they are chasing me that means they like me!

Do you know what it is like to play with people?
It's the funnest thing in the world!
I felt like Woody from Toy Story who just wants to be played with!
When other kids are playing with me I feel the most real!
And boy did we play tonight!

My parents even let me and my brothers stay up way past our bedtime!
And they let us get dirty! Like really really dirty!
It was sooooo cool!
They were watching me play in the woods from a deck that looked over the trees.
They looked so happy.
They looked like they were breathing easier.
That made me smile.

At the end of the night I was filthy and wet.
But I couldn't stop laughing.
The whole drive back to our cabin I kept thinking about how much fun it was to be able to play with other kids.
That doesn't happen to me everyday.
But I think it should.
I think I will try harder to make it happen.
Because other people should get to know me.
I am really cool and I am a really good artist too!

I love feeling like this!
Have you ever felt so happy that you are shaking?
If you need a reminder of what it looks like you should look at me.
I hope you can be as happy as I am.

I also hope my daddy asks me again if I have made any friends.
I want to tell him that I did.
I want to tell him that I really did.
And it feels so good.

My name is Noah Andrew Roedel.
I am 10 years old and I am going into fourth grade.
Love is all I am .

Dirt don't hurt. Especially when it produces smiles like this.

A DIRT BAPTISM! AMEN! AMEN! I BELIEVE!

LOVE IS ALL I AM
BY DAWES

I need a silent true-way to admire.
Like you as a sunset, and I as a wildfire.
And I can let the day go...

I've locked up these words, in fear that I'd say them wrong.
Is it love as a mountain, or love as a simple song?
And the moment that the two meet
has now laid itself at your feet.

And love is not convenient; it does not cease at your command.
You might take and leave it, but love is all I am.
Love is all I am.

I need a boundless, soft way to commend
Like you as a temper, and I as it's tender end.
And however long your fits last
I will live within your shadow cast.

And love is still your stranger; it does not respect how much you'll stand
You might be love's reminder, but love is all I am.
Love is all am.

I need a graceful, proud way to let go
To smile and accept the things that you don't know
The losses and the gains blurred
The weight of these as last words

And love is not excitement; it's not kissing, or holding hands
I'm not some assignment; no, love is all I am
Love is all I am.
Love is all I am.

AC 2010: DAY THREE "Starlight"

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-06-24T03:51:00Z

Unfocused Blog Entry Alert!!!!!!!

I am blogging by starlight tonight. Above me hanging in the blackness is one clear 3/4's of a moon and a thousand little sparkles. I forget how beautiful the night sky can be when I am not in a place that is polluted by the light of mankind. I am rapidly becoming a space geek. I love the mystery and the infinite vastness of the evergrowing universe that our little marble of a planet floats in. Just recently NASA release data gained by The Kepler Telescope (that has 33,000 times of a wider range than the Hubble), which is their newest space toy. In just a small study that only lasted 43 days and covering just a speck of the space that surrounds is it began to examine 156,000 sun-like stars in a region that hosts around 4.5 million various stars. Think about that a bit. This telescope zoomed in on a indistingushable drop in our sky and found there to be millions of stars that it can detect. The Kelpler plans on examining this small slice of space for the next couple of years. The goal of the Kepler is to search out planets that are comparable to Earth in size and in distance from their own star.

Detecting stars is a pretty easy task, compared to the one of trying to locate other planets. After only 43 days the Kepler identified some where between 400 and 700 new planets. Which has been called by NASA to be the tip of the iceberg. In November of 2011 the full results of this study are expected to reveal tens of thousands of newly discovered planets...out of this little speck in space!!! In the next ten years or so it appears that we are going to get a pretty good start to our education on how large the universe is, and in turn, how small we are. In a couple years another telescope is launching to take a very detailed snapshot on each of these new planets we are becoming aware of. My space geek meter will be spiked. Pocket protectors and tinfoil hats for everyone!

For more info on The Kepler Telescope visit: http://kepler.nasa.gov/

Or for a good video to keep things in perspective watch this:

And yes sitting here among the stars I feel pretty small. My problems seem small. My worries seem small. My war with my childs autism seems small. Tonight Noah is taking part in his very first sleepover. For the past seven years a lot of our work with Noah has focused on the theraputic side of things. We have focused on speech, and motor skills and other developmental delays. Over those last years he has made incredible progress...but now we are moving into the scarier realm: The Social. Gulp. A lot of Noah's week is being put into teambuilding and social situations to help him connect with his fellow human. It's not that he doesn't like people, because he does! He is the most friendly and loving mother-scratcher there is. But...he has a hard time understanding the motivations, feelings, and personalities of others. This week he is getting a baptism by social fire...and I think it will be great for him. His group of kids he is with is taking part in rafting, archery, hiking, wall climbing, go-kart racing, etc in replacement for some of the other therapies he has grown customed to getting. Noah, like the Kepler telescope is going to be studying things (in his case other people) who are completley foriegn to him and going to be looking for similarities. I have zero dount that this week will make a large impact on him. He is going where Noah has never gone before: Building relationships with peers. I really want him to have friends....it has been so hard on him to make any real connections with people. What breaks my heart is that he is begining to notice that he just can't seem to fit in. I want to tell him "screw fitting in!" I tried fitting in for years and it just delayed my personal development...plus it made me wear a lot of denim in the 90's.

So tonight he is at a big sleepover. This is not the first night he has ever slept away from his parents, but it is the first night he has ever slept away from his little brother, Riley, since he came home from the hospital almost eight years ago. Tomorrow night I will be giving some blog-love to Riley for all he has done for his big brother. I was going to do that tonight but I can't. To sit under this brillant canapy of stars and not just stare up into it with my mouth wide open in awe would be a sin. I am going to spend my night in silence and thought instead of the clacking of the keyboard. I am going to remind myself that all of my worries and the dozens of my material concerns are really really small in comparison to the what is going on above me.

Tonight grab a glass of wine or milk and step out onto your lawn and look up into the sky and give a wink to the billions of galaxies that fill up the dark ceiling above you. Think about all the crap that weighs you down and remember that when you put those issues in proper perspective they can appear quite small and insignificant. Even if you worries, like mine, break your heart.

AC 2010: DAY TWO "Help is not really a four lettered word. Yes, it kind of is...but not really"

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-06-23T02:10:00Z

Quick note to self before posting blog entry:

Make it brief and for the love of all that is sacred please don't force the people reading your blog to actually picture you in a speedo. From the emails I have received that image may have cost me a few subscribers...

Here is my quick reflection on my Adam's Camp 2010 Day Two:

Asking for help is a skill I have not mastered and I often refuse to do it. Even if I was at the hardware store trying to desperately and quickly find the right screwdriver for McGyver who needed it to defuse a bomb that was going to blow up a van full of cancer curing puppy/kitten hybrids in the next several minutes I still wouldn't ask for help. My aversion to asking for some assistance is not because I am some tough dude that carries a hunting knife wherever he goes and drives a truck that is adorned with imitation cow nuts (Tangent alert: Have you seen those things?? what the hell does driving around with animal chew-chew's have to do with anything? why does someone think that I need to see those while driving? I have enough problems just seeing over the steering wheel and reaching the brake at the same time. I don't need to be seeing Ole' Blue's twins swaying in the-not-so gentle wyoming wind.) who is afraid to show weakness. I refuse to ask for help because I hate bothering people. Yes, I know that people in customer service are actually paid to help me...but still it is part of the neuroses that make me the half man I am today.

That is one of the two reasons I always 'earned" such horrible scores in math during my school years. I was terrible at it and I hated having to go back to the teacher every five minutes to try and get my brain around a problem. The other reason I was terrible at math was because I, at a very early age, choose watching glorious prime-time network shows like Fantasy Island, Riptide, Remington Steele, St. Elsewhere, and many others instead of actually trying to figure it out. I blame the writers of Falcons Crest for the fact that I never could quite figure out long division. Anyway asking for help was something I never did even when I was younger...and that was a personality tick that I carried over into adulthood.

So when Noah was diagnosed seven years ago with Autism my immediate reaction was to close my family off to the outside world. To not let anyone know what was going on, but to try and handle this on our own. I could not expect anyone else to understand what was happening to us when I sure as shit had no clue about what to think. For a brief moment my stupid pride took the helm and it convinced me that asking the world for help "raising my own son" would be the ultimate intrusion, and the ultimate sign of failure. I remembered the fun old saying my 700 year old Algebra teacher (who happened to be a nun...very nice lady...hate my guts...) used to tell me "God helps those who help themselves". Also, keep in mind that seven years ago the topic of autism was not as mainstream as it is today. Back then there was no big "Autism Awareness Month" or Autism Speaks. My wife and I had never met anyone who was autistic, nor did we know a thing about it. Nowadays the level of understanding about it (especially in Wyoming) has blossomed immeasurably.

My internal plan on keeping my son's journey through the maze of autism on the down low only lasted a short time. Soon after his diagnosis we found out about Adam's Camp. I remember driving up thinking that I was going to be extremely uncomfortable talking to the therapists about how much help my little Noah needed. At that time he was so deeply lost inside himself and I was afraid of asking for help on things that seemed impossible.

What I found when I got here is a collection of people who have come to work with my child out of love and nothing else. I found a group of therapists, teachers, and living saints who took my family by the hand and helped us dream again about the future of our angel boy. They made it impossible to not ask for their help. For the past seven years we have been touched by these amazing men and women who make the pilgrimage every summer up the mountain to pour their hearts and skills into our children. They are selfless, tireless, and some of the most humble and loving people I have ever met. I have learned that in order for this incredible therapists and specialists to fulfill their vocation and their passion to serve I must get over myself and simply whisper the words "Please help us..."

Right now as you are reading this there are a bunch of families sitting on a mountain with their hands reaching out for help because they feel so helpless. And right now as you are reading this there are a bunch of servants sitting on a mountain putting their hands on top of the hands of the those people and giving them a squeeze to let them know that help is on the way. Lives will be changed up here. Miracles will happen. Children will breakthrough the walls that capture them. And the reason that is happening is because people like me learned to ask for help, and also, because there were people here willing to serve us.

The people here who serve my family are the hands of God. They are the best example to me of what unconditional love looks like. I sit by the glow of my computer light in absolute awe of them.

I pray that I continue to wake up to the fact that sometimes the greatest harm I can ever cause my children is to believe that I have all the answers and stand in the way of those who do. I don't have many answers. I need help. Today I am reminded that I have it. I just have to have the courage to climb the mountain here to camp every year and be willing to ask for help. The people who serve can't help our family climb this mountain every year...but when we do they will great us with warm embraces and hope that replaces our sense of helplessness.

Don't be like me. Don't let your ego stand in your way. Ask for help when you need it. You might be surprised at the quality of people who answer it. I was.

If you don't believe me that you need to ask for help in life please watch this video by this blinkly, uncomfortable man, who may or may not be some sort of metaphysical con man. But...he brings up a couple good points:

Yikes...I feel like he is staring right into my soul...or even worse...my wallet. Still...he kind of makes sense.

So much for a quick entry, huh? Someone needs an editor...

AC 2010 DAY ONE: Forget the journey. It's the destination that counts.

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-06-22T03:37:00Z

Road trips are the best. I love them like I love breakfast burritos, and if you have seen me in nothing but a speedo lately you can tell by my chubby (and highly exotic) frame how much I love to gobble down eggs, bacon, and cheese that have been tucked neatly into a delicious bed of floury tortilla. I am a road trip addict. The longer the car drive for me, the better. There is nothing like locking a bunch of folks into a car and forcing them to spend time together blazing a path down the open road. I have heard it said that some people hate long car trips. I don't understand why everyone doesn't embrace road trips like a life sized teddy bear made out of cashmere and kitten eye lashes. What is there not to like? The great music, the deep conversations, the road-side diners, and the passing landscape can be, for me, a spiritual experience. And to be certain that eating any special from an all night truck stop restaurant can lend itself to an intense and profound spiritual moment. There was once a truck top in Wright, Wyoming that served really suspicious looking Monte Carlo Sandwiches. I, of course, had to eat one. My insides exploded like the Death Star.  While I watched myself twitch convulse in the bathroom of the truck stop for a bit, I decided to visit Heaven for a while. Heavens cool, I think you are going to like it. Especially the thousands of Cool Whip fountains they have there...those are a really nice touch. Don't worry if you don't like Cool Whip, you probably aren't going there anyway. Cool Whip is the food of the Saints...and another product that keeps me looking like I have eaten a Kardashian.

For many years I would take yearly 13 hour road trips to Vegas with a group of friends. Those trips were a blast. Not just because of where we were headed ( thats not to say I don't like Vegas. I really do. You give me a Gin and Tonic, a fun blackjack dealer, and a belly full of yummy food and I will be as content as Anderson Cooper at a telethon)  but because of the amount of time we would all be forced to spend with each other in the vehicle. It wasn't so much the drive out to Vegas that I enjoyed the most. A lot of that time was spent talking about how much money we were going to win, how many celebrities we were going to meet, and how the Casino owner was going to "comp" our crew of fellass with a luxury suite when they would catch a gander of us and our visible and flowing aura of machismo. The drive out to Sin City is full of excitement and hope of what crazy adventures are awaiting us.

The drive back is something very different. Because the trip never quite lives up to all of the hype that we produced for it, the vibe for the car ride home is much more somber and serious. Gone is the excitement of the destination. People are grouchier and more apt to stare at their watches and wonder outloud why in the "Holy Hell" did we decide to drive out anyway. I loved to embrace that energy with silliness and conversation. I always thought that if I could make those car ride homes entertaining than I would be able to handle any kind of crowd when performing. It usually worked. I am not skilled at many things, (aside from filling out the aforementioned speedo) but one thing I am good at is changing the mood of a given room.

So, for the first half of the 13 hours on the return trip home I would make it my goal to make it as fun as possible. It usually was. Sure people got sick of me. Hell I would get sick of me. But it was better than people staring out their windows acting like they were being driven to their own execution, or even worse, like they they were being taken to a viewing of the remake of Clash of the Titans which is the suckest suckhole of a suckass movie ever to suck on the big screen. My God....it was bad....like Spoiled Mayo on a piece of moldy bread bad. The second half of the car trip would be spent talking about things that were profound and meaningful to all of us. It takes a certain amount of forced time together to make a group of guys to start sharing things that they truly believe. I learned as much from my traveling companions during those few hours of talking than I had through the many years I had known them before.

For me the journey to and from Las Vegas were much more important then the destination. I would say that there are no long road trips out there that would ever make me feel like the journey was secondary to the place we were headed...well except for one:

The one I took today.

Today me and the whole Fama-lama-ding-dong (translated from Roedelese mean: Family) took a little road trip into the deep center of the Colorado Rocky Mountains to take part in a seven year family tradition: Adams Camp. For those of you new to my blog scene, Adams Camp is a camp that is woven together with love for children with disabilities and their families. It runs for much of the summer outside of Winter Park, Colorado, and for us has become the place we retreat to every year to calm the raging seas of our hearts. I have only been in a brief time and I can already feel the toxic emotions that I schlep around with me start to melt.

I cannot believe that we have been coming here for seven years. This is a place of true respite for us, as it has been for many families like us. This is a place of true healing, like it has been for many families like us. This is a place were we have been witness to miracles, like it has been for many families like us. It is a place where I breathe easier and feel more connected to my family...it is also a place where I can let the weight of our struggle slide off of my back. It could not have come at a better time for us. Our journey with autism has been particulary hard on us the last couple of months...at least it has been for me. My wife is a rock. I am a sponge. I let all the negative crap infect me. I am tired of people (whether it be at school, on the playground, at church, or where ever we might be discount and write off my sweet boy. I amazed at despite how amazing he is doing how many doubters there exist in the world for him. If I had the power I would make them all watch Clash of The Titans over and over....

On our car trip through the winding and mountainous roads of Colorado I was not focused on the beautiful scenery that passed by my window. Nor was I enthralled by the perfect CD Mixes I made just for the drive. I wasn't even trying to make my wife life. I was impatient for the journey to end. I wanted to be at our destination.   I could not wait any longer to get up here. To hell with the journey...I need to be at the destination!

Tonight we sat in a room full of other parents of Autistic children who walk the same path we do. It was a nodding head convention. Each time a parent spoke about their child the other parents nodded in complete understanding. We all shared the same experiences, the same joys, and the same wounds. Some people come from across the country, some from just a few miles away...but we all share the same voice when we shout to remind the world:

Our Children Are Not Broken. So kindly quit acting like they are.

Right now I am sitting in a quiet cabin. If I listen carefully enough I can hear the gentle snores of my family coming from their rooms. I am for the first time, in a long time, at peace. Despite my blood feud with Mother Nature and all of her germy, buggy, razor teethed minions, I am happy to be back here, a year later in the wild. The journey to get back here over the past year has been a long one....but for at least tonight the journey does not matter.

The only thing that matters is the destination. And I am so deeply grateful that a destination like this exists.

It's going to be a long and wonderful week. It is time for some sleep.

Goodnight readers.

Goodnight Mountains.

Goodnight Roedel Boys.

Sigh.

Peace.

LAST YEARS ADAMS CAMP DAY ONE ENTRY

Blogcation

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-06-01T03:50:00Z

Yeah I know. I am a super sucka. I have gotten a couple emails over the past week wondering why I am not blogging. I don't think that the two people were asking because they love my writing, I think it was because I provide people with a good barometer on their own life. I am a good measuring stick for you to discover how much of a schlep-o you are! My emotional pain is your gain so to speak....

I am on another Blog-cation. I am taking some time off to work on a larger writing project that I have been wanting to work on for years. I am really excited about what I have written so far, so for the next few weeks I am going to focus my limited attention span on it. I am certain that you will all survive without my litany of awkward experiences that I go on about on here for a while. Besides, I think I have gone on about my life on here for long enough. I mean what else is there really for anyone to know about me that I haven't blathered on here about before. Except for the time I was convinced to jump out of a cake for a bachelor party to the horrified screams of the party-goers. But that will be for a NC-17 rated blog entry...be warned...if I do ever write about that you will have to start seeing a mental health professional right away!

So, no I have not died. (yet...even though Gary Coleman's passing hit a little close to home) Nor have I given up blogging. It's just that I will be spending my time working on something very meaningful to me that is requiring me to crack open parts of my pork skin artery hardened heart that I have never done before. I am working on something that is at times a lot of fun to write and at others very very difficult...so send me some of your prayers/good thoughts/cookies. The writing I am doing now is going to demand all of my heart and neurosis for a while.

In case I don't return to tend to this blog garden for a long time here is one parting thought:

I am constantly amazed at who I am today, when I compare it to the guy I was even a five years ago when I started blogging on Myspace. I am a vastly different person. I am not sure I would be friends with who I was. Not that I am in any way some amazing dude now, or that I am a "better" person today than I was yesterday. Thats not it. It's just that my perspective on my life, my family, and the world is in the midst of a serious pole change. A lot of the things and the worries I had in my past don't even register as a minor concern anymore...even though they really should. The 2010 model of the J-Roe is far more at peace with the storms of life than the 2005 model ever was. I am a much simpler fella now. I have been able to let go of a lot of the shit that wears on a person, and I am certain that I was able to do so because of my joy of blogging and the thousands of supportive comments, emails, messages, and phone calls I have received from so many of you. I have connected with so many amazing parents, caregivers, and teachers of autistic children over the past five years. Your stories have inspired me to be a better father. Thank you.

And Thank you for putting up with all of those blog entries that made you question why in the holy hell you ever laid eyes upon it in the first place. For those who have been with me for the past five years (both here and at the MySpaceorama) you have been able to witness me coming slowly to the truth you had probably figured out from the onset. I am the guy who did not know he was losing his mind. I hope I don't get it back. For the years of blogging I have served up for you here is my anthem:

Goodbye for a while, I am going down the rabbit hole....

First Crush

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-05-12T04:15:00Z

KEVIN, CHUCK, AND MY NEWFOUND WORRY

New worries can come to me like lyrics to Bono. I can be just sitting there minding my own business when all of the sudden I get an unannounced and not-very-friendly emotional prostate exam. Suddenly something that just a few moments ago was not even on my worry radar has suddenly shown up in my heart with a sterile white glove and an attitude.

He is going into fourth grade for God sakes.  I am not ready to hear this...

"I have a crush...and I want her to have one on me too". - Noah

Crap. Too soon. Too freaking soon. No crushes allowed until you are 30 and you have a job and a dog and your dog has a job. What the heck Noah???  I mean I must have been in High School before I started talking like that.....actually it was fourth grade too. Her name was Stacey B. and she smelled like fruit rolls ups and had a smile so radiant that it could melt the skin off your face.

So when Noah whispered this to me the only thoughts that came into my head were:

Damn you Kevin Arnold.

Charlie Brown, you can bite me.

You two melodramatic chumps are making me worry tonight. Yes, I know neither of you really exist. But if you did I would  glove slap both of you and make you go ten paces with me at dawn while holding civil war pistols. Just to complete my vision I would look like Richard Gere in Sommersby.

As if I didn't have enough to worry about, you two show up in my brain like drunk roommates the night before a big final.

Sigh. I will get back to this.

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


A LITTLE SNOW, A LITTLE WHISKEY, AND A WHOLE LOTTA INTROSPECTION

A May winter storm is raging beyond my walls.

I am sitting in a dark room typing my the white light of my computer screen, and my breath smells like Jameson Whiskey and chocolate whiskey. Tonight I won't share a funny half-made up story, or some special life lesson I learned while sipping on coffee. I think if I tried to write anything like that right now I believe my soul would exit my body and scissor kick me so hard that the force of my body hitting the wall would create a wormhole portal between our dimension and another one where disco not only refused to die but eventually caused the entire world to be bathed in polyester and shag.

While the Cheyenne landscape is being covered in a few coats of deep wet snow I am in no mood to spin a happy blog entry tonight. Five years ago when I began blogging I swore in my initial post that I was not going to make this some sort of vanity project. I was going to do this in hopes that I could give the millions of worries in my heart a chance to vent in hopes that would cause them to vanish like MC Hammer. It was my own brand of psycho therapy...I would share the joys, heartaches, victories, ass-kickings, the moments of truth, the moments of incredible doubt, and the other craziness of being John Roedel ( a lost soul, father of a child with autism, husband, and overall schlep) in hopes that I would learn more about myself.   To dig in my own dirt for a while and see what lies underneath the top soil.

What I have discovered through my hundreds of blog entries is a dude who is scared.  If you were to break down my entries one by one you would find a guy who is afraid of bugs, deer, clowns, green food, social interactions, the future, the past, the present, falling space debris, people who own exotic animals, class reunions, job interviews, movies with talking babies, chain link fences, my lack of machoness, earthquakes, Lady GaGa, conflict, becoming grown up, folks who use "LOL", lawn care, and autism.

The list of my fears is like a flowing river that is fed by a vast sea of deep neurosis. If I ever laid my head down on the not-too-soft leather couch in a therapist's office I am certain I would have enough material to put their children through college.

What blogging has taught me is that I am a mess.  I am hot mess that smells like BBQ, apparently Irish Whiskey, woman's deodorant, and coke. (the drink, not the Belushi killer) Through the many blog entries you would think that I would solve the riddles of my life and move on. I haven't. Even though I have found some direct answers to some of my greatest obstacles I am still haunted by one demon fear.

Autism.

In my past Autism-related entries I have dealt with the subject by using humor, sharing experiences that inspired me, or at least acting like I have all my shit together and putting on a brave face.

Tonight there will be no brave face or inspirational story. Just my new fear and one prayer....

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


AUTISM IS ALWAYS HERE

It's always here. Like a never passing cloud that looms over our home....or like the rash you picked up in Hong Kong. It is always here and I will always be afraid of it.

I have come to grips with the fact that no matter what happens I will always be afraid of autism. It is a theme that comes up often in my writing. It shows up because I cannot control it. I cannot control that my son has it. I cannot control how the world will receive him. I cannot control the way it tries to keep him locked up from the world. I cannot control how helpless it can make me feel at times.

Yes, I have found peace through our families journey into the wilds of Autismland. I have been witness to miracles and moments of breakthrough that are soaked with more hope than any homily I have ever sat through. I have seen my son flourish in ways that I never had expected and I have been able to be lucky enough to be able to watch my little boy work so incredibly hard to pull himself out of the stone well he finds himself so deeply in. I have seen the light at the end of the autism tunnel.

The problem is just like our universe the autism tunnel our family walks down continues to expand. Just when I feel like we have made it over the last hurdle there is another dozen of them waiting for my Middle-Earth like legs to try and leap over.   There have been cognitive hurdles, verbal hurdles, and academic hurdles. They never end. There is always a next hurdle....and the next one that is heading my way scares me to my 5'3 core.

The hurdle is not one I can help him over. It's one that he will have to leap on his own. In the past it has been a team effort. The one that casts a shadow in front of Noah is imposing and covered in a thousand little razorblades. He has to jump it, alone. No daddy's are allowed to help. I should have known it was coming...but I was too busy looking behind us at the ones we had just jumped. This newest hurdle didn't make itself known to me until Noah whispered " "I have a crush...and I want her to have one on me too".

The new fear tonight is not "my son is girl crazy". Because he isn't.   I am not worried that he is turning into a the Fonzi of Sunrise Elementary. Although that would be kind of cool if he could drive me around town in a motorcycle....This isn't a girl/boy thing. It is a boy living with autism/rest of society thing.

My greatest fear is I am starting to become aware now that my son is going to always be in a position to have his heart broken. Noah will always be standing under a dangling piano that is hanging by a string. The fact is, he is going to ask this little girl he has a crush on if she has a crush on him. He is going to do so because he wears his heart on his sleeve. He is going to do so because he is brave. This is going to be a theme of his for his entire life. Noah is a lover and he will put himself out there and ask the world what they think of him. He loves people like it is his job...but that job comes with serious risks.

Sonofamonkypoopeatingvarmitkisser.

Ok...so I am 5'2.


THE ROLE MODELS OF HEARTACHE

Ok...so back to my issues with Kevin Arnold and Charlie Brown.

Kevin had Whinney Cooper. He loved and pined for her only to have his heartbroken more times than a Cub's fan.

Charlie had the little red-haired girl. He loved and pined for her only to have his heart stepped on like it was a roach.

For a long time I rooted for each of them to earn the girl of their dreams because they never gave up. Now of course years later I may agree that they were kind of stalkers...but still they were both pretty endearing in their attempts to win the love of their maiden.
Each time they got their hearts crushed they would show back up the next week in the next episode/cartoon without any emotional scars from what had just happened to them. They were each like the terminator of the heart. No matter what humilation they each endured they kept putting their hearts in harms way.

It only took a couple times for me to realize that my heart could not take as much punishment as Chucky Browns and Kevin Arnold's. Nobody's can. We can only get hurt so many times before we start to avoid it. We build social barriers so that those things are difficult to have happen to us.

I am both proud and depressed to admit that my Noah will never do that.

He is going to be like Kevin and Charlie.

His soul is firmly rooted in the present. He loves with his whole heart and body. He tied to the here and now. Noah doesn't care about what happened five days ago. His primary thoughts are about how he is feeling right now. Autism has helped shape my son to become someone who will always forgive and forget. He will love everybody even if they have in the past caused him deep heartbreak. Like Kevin he will show up in the next episode even after having his chest ripped open just a few days earlier.

Noah is built for the right now, not the past, or the future. No matter how many times he may get slammed he is going to get back up and ready himself for the next opportunity for love.

It is because of that fact that I will always be in awe of him!

He can have a crush on whomever the hell he wants....

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


THE LESSON IS: ROEDEL IS AN IDIOT

Here is the bottom line. I will always be a worry wart. I am going to fret about everything...and Autism will always be there to kick me in the cha-cha-son-son's at least once a day. But...damn...it is time to start letting go a bit.  How can I spend my time worrying about how the world is going to respond to my son's wide-eyed living? He is going to love everyone he meets. And some of those people are going to reject him. He will get over it in about 3 seconds. Why not try living more like him. Love people like it is my job. Because it is.

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


MY PRAYER

God,

Please help me get over myself and realize that my worrying is only getting in the way of my son living his life.
Please help me to be brave like he is.
Please help me be as forgiving as he is.
Please help me as loving and kind-hearted as he is.

It's time for me to stop living my life in fear.
It's time for me to stop writing without the proper punctuation.
And it's time for me to quit watching Celebrity Apprentice. It's making me dumber....

Also....

Please help me find my I-Pod. It's been a month and I still can't find it.
Please help me figure out how I am going to shovel out tomorrow when I broke my old shovel and don't have one.
Please help me not have the dream about being chased by apparent mall cops....you know the one.
Please help me stop eating so unhealthy. But don't help me by giving me a medical scare. I don't respond well to crisis.
But you know that already...

Bless all the parents of children living with autism.
Ease their hearts of guilt, stress, and anger.
Remind them to not waste time on things they cannot control.
Remind myself that my job is to not keep my children from being hurt.
My vocation is wipe tears, high five, and to hold their hand as long as they will hold mine.

Oh, can you help me figure out what the heck is going on in Lost? It's confusing.
Sorry that I cussed in this blog entry.

Amen.

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


GOODNIGHT NOAH

Dear Noah,

You are amazing.

Keep loving people like it is your job. Because it is.

Let's keep teaching each other.

Let's keep fixing each other.

Let's keep remind each other who we are.

Love,

Dad.

p.s. Do you know where my Ipod is?

**********************************************************************************************************************************************
************************************************************************************************************************************************
As sung between parent and child.

Monday Morning Message: This Too Shall Pass

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-05-03T05:17:00Z

This will be the quickest blog entry in a long time.

A while ago I was speaking at an event as I was reminded by another speaker of one important thing to remember:

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

She was speaking directly to parents of autistic children about how it is easy to become buried under the thinking that things that was are suffering through will never get better. However, she reminded me how temporary that life can be. We change. Other people change. Situations change. Things never remain static....everything changes.

Whatever is hurting our heart today will eventually pass.

It will.

Let OK GO wake you up on this Monday Morn and shout aloud with them this phrase:

When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.

Don't let all the crap in your life weigh you down. It is going to pass. Sure some other problem will eventually take it's place, but guess what? That problem will pass too! Everything changes. Let it go.

Crank up the following video and don't bury yourself under your present problems. In a little while those same problems will hand on your wall serving as a trophy to your ability to survive.

I promise.

OK Go - This Too Shall Pass from OK Go on Vimeo.

You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down
And you can't keep draggin' that dead weight around.
If there ain't all that much to lug around,
Better run like hell when you hit the ground.

When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.

You can't stop these kids from dancin'.
Why would you want to?
Especially when you're already gettin' yours.
'Cause if your mind don't move and your knees don't bend,
well don't go blamin' the kids again.

When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.

When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.

When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.

Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.

Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

Hey!

Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. You can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. You can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)

When the morning comes!

shake your booty...

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-04-29T21:41:00Z

Just keep swimming...just keep swimming.....

Incongruent

I love that word. Just saying it out loud makes me happy like it was free cake day. When spoken the word has a built in rhythm to it that strikes a pose in my heart. Yes...I did just make a Madonna reference there. Sorry. No, I am not desperately seeking Susan.

Incongruent

Beyond how much I enjoy how it spills off the tongue I am obsessed with the meaning of the word. Let's define it:

incongruent

Adjective

incongruent (comparative more incongruent, superlative most incongruent)

out of place, incompatible, not congruent

I kind of want to be more out of place to what is expected of a 30-something dude.

I want to be incompatible to the life of a guy who is desperate to not become a drone.

Ever since I can remember (which somedays is only like 3 months ago) I have made role models of people who I have felt live incongruently. I give an extra badge of respect to those folks who for however they can brush against the grain of life and find away to live outside the box. Now, I am not talking about those who might have suffered some sort of mental breakdown who are living outside the box by building a bunker in their backyard to withstand an invasion of Yeti's, or those poor souls who have meaningful conversations with street lamps. I am talking about the people who refuse to swim downstream even though it offers the path of least resistance. I love people who live a life so counter to what the world dictates that it causes deep dissention inside my own emotional congress.

To those who give me the inspiration to choose to experience life on my terms and not by some sort of social rule, I salute you with my glass of milk!

The days that I find the most dark are the ones where I feel like I am just marking time on a prison wall. Just marching along, complaining about the same crap, and not opening myself up to the beauty of the world around. On those days I feel like a zombie who has replaced his craving for frontal lobe with a desire to just watch the calender float by. It is too easy to just float down the stream without any thought of where I am headed. I need to be like the people I respect and admire. I need to grab hold of the branches that hang over me and ask the question "Where in the hell am I going?".

I think I can find more purpose in life if I force myself to live more incongruently. To make myself swim upstream and find joy in going against the flow. I am not talking about dropping out of the world and joining a commune where I drink Hemp Slurpies and learn how to "Belly Dance For Peace". (mental image...shudder) The way I can live more incongruently will happen more internally. A life where I treat myself, my family, and the world around me that is counter to the way the world expects us to. To treat it all with wonder and awe instead of exhaustion and gloom.

Although I am not a guy who fits in really well...I guess I am looking to become more incompatible to what a 36 year old husband and father of 3 looks like.

Anyway here is the song that got me thinking about these things...

Shake your booty boys and girls for the beauty in the world...

Head Nod

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-04-22T16:21:00Z

Example # 940 of my lack of cool-ness.

Yesterday evening while I was driving to improv practice I felt a bit off. Right away I could not put my finger on the issue but something in my ice-cream covered universe was not right. Things felt a bit out of balance and I could not figure out what was happening. So I went through my "Driving To Improv" checklist.

Good music on the radio?
Check. In fact some old Crash Test Dummies was being brought to me by Sirius which brought out the lead singer in me.

Gas in the tank?
Check. I made my wife fill it the other day. To be honest I didn't really make her fill it...I just drove the car until it had exactly two ounces of gasoline left in the tank, and then I drove it home.

Was I comfortable?
Check. I had the car scooted way up to the steering wheel to ensure that I was driving like my 80-year old mother. Plus my heated seats were keeping Mr. and Mrs. Cheekysnaps nice and cozy.

After finishing the checklist I was confused. What was wrong with me? Why was I feeling so out of whack?

Then I looked down and figured it out.

In my haste to get to improv practice I found myself changing clothes in such a haste that I had put my shirt on backwards. I cast my gaze down upon and noticed the tag of my shirt staring back at me as if it was saying "Howdy, you look like a jerk".

I agreed.

I needed to get my shirt on straight. But there was a major problem, I was driving 40 mph. I was going to have to wait until I got to the place I was going...which was still about five minutes away. So I kept driving...

But my backwards shirt really started to bother me. I found myself itchy, twitchy, and ultra unsettled. I am not certain why it was causing me so much turmoil. Maybe it was because the fibers on the back of the shirt were not designed to interact with my Sherwood Forrest of chest hair. Whatever the reason was I started to wonder if I needed to pull over to flip my blue shirt around.

Then fortune gave me a wink and a kiss on the cheek.

I hit a stop light. This was the perfect place to turn my shirt around! After making sure there was nobody next to me in the other lane next to me at the stoplight, I began to do my best impersonation of the sacred moment where Clark Kent transforms into Superman in a few blazing seconds. I shot my arms up into my shirt and I began to rotate it around my torso. It was not going as quickly as I had planned on. Since I my drivers seat was so close to the steering wheel I did not have as much room to complete "Operation Turn Around". I could not lean forward far enough and it kept trapping the back part of my shirt against the seat behind me...so I was moving an inch at a time. Every time I tried to kick this process into a faster gear it felt as if I was going to rip the $ 7.00 TJ Maxx shirt. I found that the best way to get this whole thing done was to actually take my entire right arm out from the shirt. I arched my back up from the seat and started to peel off my shirt. I was about halfway through when I heard something that gave my heart a fairly aggressive prostate exam.

HONK!

My eyes shot up from my half-off shirt to my rear view mirror. There was a couple cars behind me now and they were not very happy. Apparently the light had been green for a little bit now and they were waiting for me to move...which was going to be difficult. My left arm was trapped inside the center section of the shirt and my right arm (and entire right side of my upper body) had just freed itself completely from the burden of the shirt. I was forced with making a choice...

Do I continue to tick off the cars behind me and stick with my shirt flip? This was going to take probably another 10 seconds of real time. However, that 10 seconds, when translated to "Stopped Car at a Green Light" time it equals about 3 minutes.

Or...

Do I quickly rip off my shirt and just start driving. This would require me to drive half-nude, but the cars behind me would never know and it would allow me to clear up the traffic jam I was causing.

There was only once choice. In the name of transportation I decided to strip like a showgirl. With my free hand I ripped my shirt off as if I was about to transform into the Hulk again and I was tired of buying a new shirt everytime I got pissy.

Without my shirt on I slammed my foot down on the accelerator. I went from shirtless to 40 in about 3 seconds. For a few moments I felt kind awesome driving without the hiding my chesty shame. I kind of felt like Bo Duke with the only thing protecting the world from my studliness was a windshield. "Hey Cheyenne" I thought. "There is a 90% chance of a severe thunderstorm of seductive machismo for your area". I was free as a bird.....I felt like a bird who was just set free from a cage.

Then fortune ripped my kidney out.

Another stoplight. Crap crap crap crap. I needed to put on my shirt...quickly!

Too late. A car pulled up next to me. I could not look over. I would not look over. I should not look over.

I looked over.

I saw an older couple staring at me in utter horror. I made out the words the old lady was saying to her husband. I believe she said "Harold! The sight of this man's naked upper body makes me want to vomit through my eyes!" And then I watched her husband respond with what I believe was "This makes me wish I did not survive WW II."

For a brief moment we started at each other. Their eyes narrowed as their brains tried to decode the pasty images their eyes where sending them/ My eyes widened as I tried to come to grips with the fact that I was indeed flashing a couple senior citizens and giving them a front row seat to my amazing nipple extravaganza.

I had to do something to reassure them. I couldn't smile or wave because I thought that would have been a creepy accessory to my peep show. So I made the choice to play it cool and wanted to make it look like I had the whole situation under control.

I gave them a slow head nod as if to say "Hello friends. Don't worry about it. I often drive without my shirt on. For you this moment may just last a few seconds but the images will remain burned in your soul long into your afterlife. Peace"

I was hoping they would respond with a smile that would covey a "I feel ya dawg" kind of message. I didn't get anything...they just kept staring at my form.

Stupid shirt.

Honk!

Say it out loud

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-04-22T05:06:00Z

Do me a favor. I want you to say something out loud three times. Even if it is at a whisper just let the words breath over your lips and out into the atmosphere.

For me, whenever I say the thought I am having it suddenly becomes real. When it is just a passing thought in my mind I can discount it...but when I actually say the words out loud it becomes something I have to deal with. During the times I really need to make a big decision or give deep thought to something I force myself to say it out loud three times. Saying it that many times allows the words to sink in.

So please say this:

Today Autism is estimated to strike 1 out of every 110 children.

Say it again.

Today Autism is estimated to strike 1 out of every 110 children.

And once more.

Today Autism is estimated to strike 1 out of every 110 children.

Now say this:

Current estimates in The United States alone, has that 1 out of 70 boys is being diagnosed with Autism.

Say it again.

Current estimates in The United States alone, has that 1 out of 70 boys is being diagnosed with Autism.

And just once more.

Current estimates in The United States alone, has that 1 out of 70 boys is being diagnosed with Autism.

We can debate the reasons why the rates of autism are increasing 10-17 % per year. Thats fine. Someone can argue that it is because children are being diagnosed with Autism that 10 years ago never would have been. Thats great. Someone can say that it is because of vaccines that Autism is flooding our current generation of children. Sure. Whatever. I am not so concerned about the "why or the how" of Autism. In my life, I focus on the "who and what" of Autism.

Who needs help? Who are the parents who are overwhelmed with raising a child inside the spectrum? Who are the ASD children that are not getting the support they need? Who are the siblings of ASD children who are feeling lost? Who are the extended family of Autistic children that are having a hard time understanding?

What can we do to help these people? What is it they need from us? What can I do?

The prevalence of Autism should terrify people enough into action. The shear numbers alone of children being diagnosed should send our political leaders into a tizzy. It is only a matter of time that Autism will become a serious issue in the national debate. It won't just be something that is mentioned by Larry King in the month of April. It will become a major topic of conversation in our health care and education. It will become something that our churches need to take seriously.

Say it out loud.

We need to do more.

We need to do more.

We need to do more.

If you need more convincing than chew on this:

Autism now affects 1 in 110 children and 1 in 70 boys
Autism prevalence figures are growing
More children will be diagnosed with autism this year than with AIDS, diabetes & cancer combined
Autism is the fastest-growing serious developmental disability in the U.S.
Autism costs the nation over $35 billion per year, a figure expected to significantly increase in the next decade
Autism receives less than 5% of the research funding of many less prevalent childhood diseases
Boys are four times more likely than girls to have autism
There is no medical detection or cure for autism

Prevalence vs. Private Funding

Leukemia: Affects 1 in 1,200 / Funding: $277 million
Muscular Dystrophy: Affects 1 in 100,000 / Funding: $162 million
Pediatric AIDS: Affects 1 in 300 / Funding: $394 million
Juvenile Diabetes: Affects 1 in 500 / Funding: $156 million
Autism: Affects 1 in 110 / Funding: $79 million

National Institutes of Health Funds Allocation

Total 2009 NIH budget: $35.9 billion
Of this, only $196 million goes directly to autism research. This represents 0.5% of total NIH funding.

Pray.
Pray.
Pray.

Source:
http://www.autismspeaks.org/whatisit/facts.php

Trying to find something to blog about...

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-04-20T17:39:00Z

My blog-o entries have been few and far between lately. I could spin you some excuse about that I have been too busy writing for school, or for Ozymandian Theater to have time to blog...but it would be a bigger lie than the Easter Bunny. I have been too distracted lately to form many complete thoughts. So today I am going to be focused and provide you a blog entry that we can all be proud of.

I vow to blog without distraction. I am going to remain in the present and not fret over my past regrets or my worries about the future. I am going stay attentive to the right here and now...

I am not going to let my overwhelming fear of a giant ash cloud of doom that is currently infecting the atmosphere above me. I will not let my blog become focused about this distraction...despite the fact that it has me and my heterosexual man-crush Anderson Cooper all in a tizzy.

Hello new ice-age. My name is John. Don't do me like you did the Wolly Mammoth. I don't want to be thawed out 3000 years from now by a highly evolved grasshoper society. Bugs freak me out. Especially highly evolved ones....

I am determined instead to write about something that is meaningful to me right now. I am going to remain positive and not borrow anyone else's trouble.

There is no chance that I am going to be distracted by the gang of gossipy old ladies sitting next to me in the coffee shop who are conducting a very harsh book club meeting. My blog entry is not going to be about how they debating kicking out one of their fellow elderly members out of their club. I will not allow myself to become obsessed with eavesdropping into this meeting...even though the member in question is sitting there listening to the rest of the club debate her fate. The whole conversation is a pulsating quasar of raw awkwardness and I cannot keep from listening in. It turns out that the poor frail lady on trial is being thrown out because she has not attended enough book club meetings this year....because SHE HAD SKIN CANCER!!!!! It seems that for this book club (which apparently is the toughest, meanest, and blue-ist haired club in the known universe) having cancer is not a good enough "excuse" to miss a couple meetings. Holy Bat Phantom Crap. I am certain there are KKK rallies that demonstrate more empathy than this gaggle of grouchy coupon clippers. I love the greatest generation...I really do.....but sweet monkey spit sometimes they can be catty, By the way I think having any kind of cancer is a good enough excuse to get out of anything...including paying taxes and having to tip your waiter. If I had even the smallest speck of cancer on my eyelash I would demand that the world bow down before my melodramatic traveling circus. I am glad I am not going to waste my time writing about this surreal book club that I am "tin-canning". It would tap into some sort of anti octogenarian vibe that secretly lies in my heart.


Golden Girls got it all wrong!!!

Another thing I won't write about is how terrible I think the remake of "Clash of The Titans" was.

It would be a waste of time to disclose how I believe that horrid film was one of the worst I have seen in quite some time. Here is a quick note to the dozens of Hollywood Studio execs that read my blog. If your movie looks like it was made by a fourth grader than maybe you should consider not releasing it. If the story you are trying to tell the poor schleps who paid the 530.00 bucks to watch it in 3_D appears to have been written on an airplane napkin it is probably not a good film.   The special effects were on par with a couple Phil Collins music videos of the 1980s.   Release the Kraken?? More like release the drunk CGI artist. Even Avatar had a sliver of a story....I would have been happy with even the plot from an episode from "Eight is Enough". Sigh.

This film makes me miss the claymation special effects of the orginal, which is something I can never forgive because I hate claymation the way my children hate watching me dance!

In my blog entry today I will not hyper-focus on one particular topic and beat it to death. I also promise not to write anything that sounds even vaguely dirty.

By the way I am considering changing my wrestling name to the Icelandic Eruption.

Don't mistake the Icelandic Eruptions smile for weakness. I bring pain the way lightning brings thunder. Boom!

I am not going to write anything that makes it look like I am doing any shameless promotion.

On an unrelated note Ozymandian Theater has a new improv show coming next month. Click here for show info and tickets:

Let's see....what should I write about then?

I can't think of anything.

By the way the poor old lady suffering from skin cancer in the book club was put on "suspension". Wow....good thing that is not going to be something I am not going to blog about.

Well, I will talk to you later.

- Johnny "The Icelandic Eruption" Roedel

Boom!

April 2000 And Everything That Came After

john@johnbigjohn.com (john roedel) — 2010-04-12T19:17:00Z

I love the month of April.

No, not because of flowers. Flowers = Bee's. Bee's frighten the hair off of my chest.

April is an important month for me because it marks the month my first son, Noah, was born. He was born ten years ago today!

April is also Autism Awareness Month. Autism is currently hitting 1 out of 150 children and 1 out of 94 boys in America. Say that out loud to yourself. Regardless of the reasons why the rates are increasing we have to marvel at the numbers.

About ten years ago I thought Autism had ruined my life.

I was a moron.

I also once thought that I could slide head first off of my parents truck without any damage to my skull.

That just goes to show how smart I am.

Autism did not end up ruining my life.

Thats not to say that it has left me unchanged. It has forever altered who I am as a person.

I discovered that there can be peace in the midst of an epic storm if I just change the way I look at life.

What do I mean? Well....

I am a simple dude.

I like to live without conflict, complications, or heavy doses of stress. I am in constant need of peace and harmony in my live.

I am a creature of balance.

For every hour spent stressing I require an hour of relaxation.

For every hour spent toiling over something tedious I need an hour of play.

For every hour spent in the company of others I need an hour of quiet.

I am at my best when everything works in accordance to my profound need for this balance. When I am not living a life that is centered in harmony it absolutely feels like I am spending my days simply just trying to survive.

There is nothing else that soothes my soul more than having this symmetry exist in all facets of my life.

This is why Autism has been such a dirty, armpit sniffing, monkey Humper in my life!!!!!!

Autism swooped in like a crotch kicking paperboy and booted harmony out of my life quicker than NBC jetted Conan. Autism took my need for a life that is filled with peace and balance and replaced it with it's own suppository of mayhem, worry, struggle, and doubt. Autism grabbed my soul's longing for serenity by it's speedo and threw it in front of a runaway bus that was seemingly being operated by Sandra Bullock.

I had a plan for my family. Autism ate that plan like it was a mutant shark and my plan was mutant shark food.

For the past decade of my life our family lived life like we were a boat a drift on the sea that was being battered by a terrible storm. A maelstrom of intense anguish pounded our hull to the point where I was often concerned how much more we could handle. From the first moment that Noah was diagnosed with Autism it seemed like the waves of the storm were going to be too violent for a schlep like me to take. I was devastated when I found that the shoreline that I thought my families boat was headed became obscured by the dark clouds.

At the beginning of our journey with autism I fought against it to gain control of our lives. I lost. Badly. Life was hard and the struggles kept piling up.

I am not the kind of guy who handles living like that very well. Some people embrace that kind of struggle with a heroic zest. I react to that kind of situation like I would a Ninja who had a beard of bee's and was carrying a plate full of steamy nasty beets. My first instinct is to run. I knew early on that autism was going to make my need for harmony in my life an impossibility. There would be no balance....there would just be survival. I needed us to survive long enough for this storm to pass and then find the shoreline I wanted us to land on. It was just about survival....nothing more....

It was about surviving from one depressing doctor's appointment/therapy sessions/ to the next...

It was about surviving the daily heartache of watching my beautiful son lie in prison behind the walls of autism...

It was about surviving the dark days where it seemed like there would be no more progress...

It was about surviving the horrified looks of strangers as they reacted to his autistic behaviors....

It was about surviving the moments I sat and fretted over the future of Noah when I am gone....

It was about surviving the guilt whenever I felt like I wanted to pack it in and emotionally check out...

It was about surviving all of the never ending shit that comes with being a parent of a child living with autism...

It was about surviving the apparent death of all of the dreams I had for my son before he was born...

It was about survival.....

Nothing more.

There was no balance. There was no peace. There certainly was not any harmony. There was only the hellish storm. My life had less serenity than the Gaza Strip.

Early on I was a walking talking cliche'.

If you were to line up all the prospective father's across the world and choose the one who would be the most ill equipped to handle raising a child with autism I would be the last one you would want to pick. I had always been afraid of anyone who had special needs. I had often thought that I was allergic to people who appeared handicapped or different. I am a coward. I am, by nature a "me first" mother-scratcher. I possess as much bravery and fortitude as a year old bottle of ketchup.

I was not ready for the storm of autism that rocked our boat. I thank God that my wife was the captain and I could reprise my roll of Gilligan....

Many years have passed since the first gusts of the storms hurricane-like winds struck our family and I have grown accustomed to the chaos of being a daddy of a little boy navigating the spectrum of autism. I have become hardened and battle tested. I no longer flinch when the waves splash over the sides of the hull. This storm of autism has changed me from who I was years ago. I am not the man I was...I am forever different. Thank God.

The things I thought I could never survive have tested me to the core of my being...and I have passed. The storm has taught me many lessons...but there is one lesson in particular that surpasses all others:

I no longer fear the things I have no control over. I cannot control autism or the effects it is having on my sweet Noah. I cannot control what the future holds for him. The only thing I can control is the way I love him. I can't control how the world will react to him. The only thing I can control is how tightly I hold his hand when the storm intensifies. I have learned that the more I let go of the shit I cannot control the more peace I find. Harmony can be found in the storm if I quit trying to sail against the winds. There can be balance if I let the waves carry us wherever they need to take us instead of trying to ram our ship against them. I cannot control the storm of autism...but I can control my attitude towards it. Serenity exists in this storm...I just have to give up control.

Autism did not ruin my son's life. It made him shine in a way that the world has never seen before.

Autism did not ruin my families life. It made us closer than we would have ever been before.

Autism did not ruin my life. It helped me realize that the secret of my life is to not try and control it.

As autism begins to soften it's grip on Noah (a miracle that I attribute to the amazing efforts of my wife, countless people who have helped him, and the unconditional love of his two brothers) I am able to see the shoreline through the dark clouds. I am not sure what island the storm has taken our family to, but I know that wherever we end up I will find peace of heart.

Where I used to believe that harmony was achieved by taking control of my life and forcing it to exist. I have learned that true balance occurs when I let go and allow life to take me where it will. I stop worrying over the garbage I have no control over. I cannot control the storm. I can only control how freely I express my love for my family while the boat surges over the waves toward our destination.

There is something that is so beautiful about letting go. There is something so peaceful about riding the storm out....it is not about just surviving anymore. It is not just about trying to find the shore. It is all about loving my family with my entire heart.

Happy Birthday Noah....

I am so thankful for April of 2000 and everything that came after....

I love sailing with you! Here is to the next ten years of riding the storm out.....