Small Acts of Advocacy

There's taking action in the big broad sense--campaigns to get legislation passed, calls for greater understanding---and then there's the small and daily works of advocacy that one attempts, just to make things a bit better, or so one hopes.

Yesterday was hot and humid and sticky here in the Garden State. Charlie and Jim went on a late morning bike ride (Charlie had slept in) after which eating ice cream (or rather, something like ice cream made without dairy products, which are not for Charlie) straight from the carton while watching YouTube was a highly preferred activity. The steaminess seemed only to worsen as the day progressed and we headed for the YMCA to do "swim and gym."

As we walked in I glanced at the pool and saw that it was divided in half with a lane marker, and that five chartreuse shirted teenagers were sitting on a bench. Prior visits had taught me that the five were camp counselors and that the right side of the pool, where Charlie habitually gets in, would be "off limits" unless you were a camper. Also, the pool toys that Charlie loves--a floating airplane and a car---were on the campers-only side of the pool.

Charlie, as expected, walked to the right side of the pool, stood and looked around, and got in. I paused and then went over to the counselors, mentioned Charlie and autism and how he's used to swimming on that side of the pool and that I would try to get him to swim on the other side. "It's fine for him to swim here," said the counselor, adding that there were only a few campers today.

Charlie had gotten into the water and was making his way towards the airplane, grinning from ear to ear (literally). He spent the next five minutes trying to pull himself up onto the back of the plane as a boy some years younger was trying to climb on its side. I stood watching as the airplane tipped over when both boys were trying to climb on it simultaneously from different angles. Charlie looked a little annoyed at one point but just kept trying to get on until the other boy who drifted off. Charlie then gave me a look and a "yes" when I asked him if he wanted me in the water. I helped him push the airplane to the deep end and he spent a half-hour kicking and floating while I did some laps.

As 5pm approached, everyone got our. A lifeguard told me that it would be adult lap swimming soon. I noted that Charlie might take a little longer to get out and she said, no problem. Still on the airplane, he kicked back to the deep end and turned around. One of the pool managers was pulling the other toys out of the pool. I remember when she was a lifeguard in the days when Charlie had to go down the pool slides at least two dozen times per visit; she always gave him a smile and laughed to see us at the top of the stairs, yet again. Since then, we've often seen her and noted that she's risen in the ranks (to everyone's advantage---I've noted that she's always attentive to both the staff and to swimmers and parents, and very polite).

The pool manager asked me to unwind a rope that had gotten caught on the lane marker. I did so and then swam to the shallow end and got out of the pool. Charlie was still floating around on the airplane and kicked his way in slowly. He got off (deplaned?) and was wading towards the stairs, leaving the airplane in the water.

"Charlie, can you get the airplane for me?" the pool manager asked, squatting at the side of the pool and looking at him. And Charlie turned around, took hold of the tail of the airplane, and pushed it to the pool manager who thanked him.

I gave Charlie a big smile and a towel. Lately, he doesn't seem to like excessive displays of praise as we used to do when he was younger and tossed him in the air, clapped and chortled. It was just a small instance of him following directions, after all.

And how the small things do add up.