Translated from the Original Oakese

This is a poem written by my son last year. He was then in the 6th grade. He has Aspbergers, an autism spectrum disorder, and was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. It is his ode to Fall, a time he doesn't much enjoy--not because of the season itself, but because it brings school. He is a brilliant child, with a high IQ, who nevertheless hates and fears school. He is exceedingly fearful and anxious about many things. He is also often unexpectedly and amazingly funny.

We... we...
We are leaves..
Please, please,please,
We are leaves.
Sitting in a tree, we were green.
But now that we have come here now,
This we will not allow.

To fall, to die,
To crunch, to cry,
What has gone awry?

We, we, we are leaves,
Hoping for the best,
waiting for a test,
Expecting the worst,
What will become of us now?

Now,
We will wait,
Till next spring,
If you can imagine such a thing.

We are glad we are not turkeys.

When It Becomes Relative

So when does it become relative? I read that my county in Massachusetts ranks second to last in the number of food stamp applications. Now I live in a town where the people in my church tell me constantly how much they can't afford to give. And I can see that they generally aren't going off to jobs as CEOs every week. They own their own landscaping services, or small construction companies. Right after they put their weekly $5 in the collection plate, they take off to their sailboat.

Things I used to be able to do but probably never will again:
own a home
go out to dinner at the spur of the moment
give generously
take good health for granted

Beginning of The Dignity

To be poor in America is to be invisible. To be find oneself poor in America is a shock-- no one expects it. I've hit a place where poor no longer even has meaning; where I'm not even sure what to wish or hope for the future. Getting here was a concatenation of events that I couldn't have foreseen or predicted. Like victims of natural disasters, I have been wandering long in a devastated landscape, dazed and confused, wondering what went wrong? How could this all have turned out a different way?

But there is no visually effective television spot or fundraiser for victims of crappy lives. And no matter what you might hear, the services intended to help the "needy" aren't much.

While I still have a very very part-time job that pays for an internet connection, I intend to put out there this dizzying, bewildering thing that has occurred-- this horrible dismaying confusing life-place where I am.

Let me introduce myself. I am your neighbor, who has a Master's degree and a very fine brain, who had great potential and a fine future. And I am:
poor
powerless
invisible
the single parent of a special needs child
with cancer
and only a few true friends.

Thank God for them.