Jimmy Dugan: Are you crying? Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? There's no crying! THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!

          Tom Hanks, A League of Their Own

Oh, how I wish I knew how and where to begin this. Over the past seven (wow, seven, really??!?) months, I have sat down on multiple occasions to try to pound out something or other on the computer to add to my blog (and if you are now envisioning the monkeys with the bone in the movie 2001, or Derek Zoolander pounding on the computer to get the files in Zoolander, then that’s about right), but nothing seems to feel complete. Sure there are plenty of times I read something that sets me off, and I start jumping up on my soap-box, only to say “whoa, whoa, easy now. No need to show everyone out there your truly crazy side.” I wish I had the dedication to post with decent regularity, like Jim who writes “Just a Lil Blog” about his autistic daughter, (Great site, definitely worth the read) but I don’t. Not sure why. I have a ton of excuses, but no real answers. So for now I hope you enjoy (and I hope I know where to begin).

I have a strong sentimental side. I am not ashamed to admit it. Even though my mom was tougher than most Navy Seals, and I had no sisters, I wasn't raised in one of those houses where you weren't allowed to cry. Now, that’s not to say that I am weepy. I was able to hold it together when I read my mother’s eulogy, remain stoic when my daughter went in for a 2-hour surgery when she was 5, and remain laser focused when the doctor handed us CJ’s diagnosis. But watching Terms of Endearment or A Walk to Remember always makes me misty.

Why do I share this, you ask? Because the times that I get the most emotional is when I watch my kids succeed. The most recent example of this came a week ago Friday, when my son crossed over from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts.

 

(CJ waiting for his name to be called)

A little back-story first: In first grade, CJ decided to join Cub Scouts. Not sure why. I was never a Cub/Boy Scout, and never gave much thought to the matter. When asked if I was one in my youth, I would to joke that no, but I used beat up a lot of boy scouts as a kid. The closest I ever came was the court-ordered year I spent in Y-Indian Guides, YMCA’s answer to the Boy Scouts. But, I digress. 2010, First Grade, CJ jumps in with both feet, into the Cub Scout world. Well, not both feet, maybe one. Well, OK maybe just a big toe. But, HE decides. The wife and I, we have had nothing to do with the decision, and I mean zero. And because of that, we were always very supportive of whatever he wanted to do with Scouts. You want to go to a three day Twilight Camp that falls during your birthday? Sure! You want to go camping in a tent in the mountains with your troop, even though the weatherman forecasts snow and 80 mile-an-hour winds? You bet! (And yes, the weatherman was right on both counts.) I have to work late, so you want your mom to come to the meeting and teach all of your friends to build a trebuchet? Absolutely.

That’s not to say that everything went as smooth as silk, because that would be a lie. He almost quit at the end of his first year, and there were plenty of meeting nights that he begrudgingly went, and even a few that he missed. Not to mention CJ’s lack of tolerance for the kids that didn’t take the meetings seriously. On many nights during the drive home, I would get an earful, as CJ would repeat over and over about how this boy was running around the classroom during the whole meeting, or how that boy wouldn't stop talking. But my biggest struggle was CJ’s seemingly complete lack of engagement at the meetings. Often I would sit in the back, feeling frustrated by him not participating or even appearing to almost fall asleep.

But Last Friday was the big day. The “graduation” day from Cub to Boy Scouts. A large ceremony was held, with dinner and a show, and at the end, the boys crossed over a bridge where a member of their new Boy Scout troop greeted them and presented them with a new neckerchief. And that is where I lost it. Well, sort of lost it. Let’s just say that my eyes started leaking. As I stood there watching, I reflected back on the previous 4.5 years, and all of the progress that he made, challenges he overcame, and lessons he learned.

 

(CJ getting his new neckerchief)

Yes, I cried. And I am OK with that. For me, there is no greater reason for me to shed some tears then for the pride of both of my kids. I am constantly amazed at how far my son has come, and how much he continues to grow. And I am also always in a state of happy shock at my daughter, who is constantly stepping up to help out either her parents or her brother, all the while tackling her own life and issues.

 

(after the ceremony, on the bridge. If CJ looks a bit off, it's because he is about to break down himself)

So, next time you see me crying, instead of looking away, please feel free to offer me a tissue. 

Go take a hike!

Harry Dunne: I expected the Rocky Mountains to be a little rockier than this.

Lloyd Christmas: I was thinking the same thing. That John Denver's full of shit, man.

Dumb and Dumber

          I am back! Sorry I have been away from this board for so long. I could make up a laundry list of reasons (read: excuses) as to why haven’t posted for so long, but the bottom line is that none of that really matters. What does matter, and the reason I currently post this on a completely infrequent basis, is to share my experiences in the hopes that they might help anyone out there.

This past March, a long-time friend of mine shared that she and her husband were training to take on the Incline, in Manitou Springs. For those that are unfamiliar, think a StairMaster on steroids. Seriously. Just look at this thing.

This is looking down the trail...

This is looking up...

To give you an example, apparently Kevin Bacon was here last week, (yes, THAT Kevin Bacon) and took on the incline. Check it out; http://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/local-news/actor-kevin-bacon-tackles-colorados-incline-trail-in-manitou-springs, and said it almost killed him. True story.

When I told my wife about it, she said that we should plan a hike with the kids. To give you some perspective, we attempted to scale a 14er last year (Mount Bierstadt, at 14,065 feet). I say attempted, because the climb up the mountain was, for all intents and purposes, a colossal struggle, to say the least. It started with the complaining about being tired and then hungry, followed by him having to go pee about every quarter-mile, soon to be followed with a headache, and then finished off with altitude sickness. Needless to say, we didn’t make the peak. At about 500 vertical feet shy of the top, my son and I had to turn around and hike back down the mountain, while my wife and daughter finished what we started. The worst part is that my son lacks the endurance for distances. About every 100-200 yards, he would want to sit down and take a quick rest.

This was Mt. Bierstadt last year, at the start of the hike...

This is where CJ had to bail out last year.

Diane and Jackie made it to the top!

So when my wife suggested we make it a family outing, needless to say, I was a bit apprehensive. While the Incline is no 14er, it is a strenuous climb, going up 2000 feet in less than a mile, with some parts of the climb reaching over a 70 degree incline. Like this:

Not one to shy away from a challenge, I hesitantly agreed, bracing myself for the worst. We started by preparing CJ for what was to come, explaining that it would be a difficult hike, with an early start, and probably a long day all around.

One of the things I realized on the climb is that you have a lot of time to think, mainly because after the first two or three hundred steps, you find it difficult to talk, due to you trying to do other minor things, like breathe. And as I climbed, I started thinking about the similarities the hike had to our struggle with CJ’s autism. Often times, you struggle to make it up the hill, feeling like so many other families are doing better than you, while you struggle to find your footing. At other times, all you want to do is sit down, wondering if you even have the strength to go on. Then there are times that you need help to get past the next hurdle, or times when you help others to get through something that you were able to conquer. But no matter what, you keep going, pushing past levels you thought were possible, trying to reach another goal.

Us taking a rest and a snack.

The amazing thing is that there were no complaints, no headaches, and virtually no potty breaks. (The hike down was a different story) Near the end of the uphill part of the journey, the kids went ahead of us to the summit and waited, while my wife and I worked our way up the mountain. It took us an additional 20 minutes to get up to them, and at the end, as we approached the top, my wife looked up and saw them sitting at the last “step”, cheering us on. As I looked at them, I knew THAT was why we did all of this, and that we should never lose sight of that fact.

Us at the top!

Look at how far we came!

I hope that all of you are able to summit the struggles you work through every day.

Oh, and by the way, my friend that turned me on to this adventure, she had to take the bailout point, which is about 2/3 of the way up the hike. Sorry Mari, maybe next year?