Over the mountain, part 3

So far, I've told you about two small obstacles I overcame when I ran away from home over a mountain at age 14. If you missed those, go back and check out parts one and two.

Making it over that waterfall had me no closer to climbing out of the ravine the creek ran down the mountain in. For that matter, the path couldn't be seen anymore above me. It had wound off another direction. So I followed the water even further in a steady rise. There were two more small water falls I had to climb over, but they were a snap compared to the first. It was warming up now but I had no idea what time it was. I didn't have a watch on. I managed to leave that behind. Always have to forget something right?

So I can only tell you that I followed that creek for long time. When I finally had to stop, the creek ended abruptly and high above me, into the mountain itself. As if that weren't bad enough, to my right stood a high vertical wall of earth, taller than a two story house. To my left and up to the point the creek vanished, an even taller slope of broken rocks and gravel. It made the slope I slid down earlier seem puny though every bit as steep. I wondered if I was trapped, right then and there, but knew I couldn't just sit there.

I climbed up a short embankment to get onto the slide of rocks. I found that, if I kicked my feet in hard and jammed the stick into the ground the same, I could slowly climb up. The rocks were all shapes and sizes, from gravel tiny to fist sized. As I slowly lumbered upward, any I jarred loose, tumbled down into the creek behind me. Every foot upward took painstaking measure and sharp rocks got into my shoes. Three fourths of the way up I could see a boulder, bigger than two of me, wedged into the slide. I set that as a goal, a place I could rest before making it the rest of the way up. I struggled and sweat dripped into my eyes, but I kept going until I reached that boulder. I sat on it with a sigh of relief and looked down.

The creek looked so small and far away and I didn't fully realize just how steep this thing really was. As I pondered that the rock I sat on moved. Apparently, my extra weight served enough to loosen it from the slide. It threatened to roll right over top of me. With quick wits I didn't know I had I jumped to my left and jammed my hands hard into the dust and rocks in a desperate bid to stay put. I looked over my shoulder and watched the huge rock pound its way downward. It sent smaller rocks flying high into the air and created a wide cloud of tan dust. It hit the bottom with an echoing crash.

My heart pounded in my throat and I surveyed myself for damage and losses. Amazingly, my little blue suitcase and hiking stick were up against my knees. I pulled out one of my hands to grab the stick. In that sharp gravel I expected to pull out cut and bleeding hands. To my surprise, not one cut adorned my fingers. I was completely unharmed. I grabbed up suitcase and stick and went back to my method of climbing until I reached the top.

At the top, a new bank of earth stretched out in an overhang with small trees growing from it. I had to reach up and over with my little suitcase and put it past one of the small trees. Next I reached to pull myself up and over. I did this, by putting my stick behind and across a pair of the trees like a pullup bar. Finally, with great effort, I pulled myself out of the ravine onto the side of the mountain more formal. Landscape like a friendly hillside stretched out before me. I took one last look down the slide of rocks and knew I barely escaped with life and limb.

You might think such a realization would make me find a way to get back down that mountain and give up this mad idea. But the terrain ahead looked so much friendlier. I couldn't get into any more trouble like that could I? I'll tell you in part four.

Over the mountain, part two

Be sure to see part one, prior to this very post. As stated there, at 14 years old, on the first day of summer vacation, I ran away from home in Kaysville, Utah. Rather than run away in any standard form, I decided to hike over the Wasatch mountain front.

I left off as a pathway fell away under my feet and took me with it some several feet to the creek running below. I couldn't help but cry out in surprise as I slid in a cloud of dust and dirt. I stopped abruptly as my feet found the large stones lining the sides of the little creek and I paused to catch my breath. I craned my neck to look up the steep bank to the rest of the path high above my head. I looked down at the creek, then back up again. I wanted to be back on the path, so I flipped over and tried to climb back up. No dice. The dirt was far too loose. I had no choice but to follow the creek up to find another place to climb out. The banks were steep and stretched high on both sides. There were large stones around the creek sides and it only sat four feet wide at it's largest points. It wasn't deep either, but frigid cold. I had no wish to be wet.

In part one, I neglected to mention I actually had a target point to cross over the mountain. At the top of the mountain sat a weather station, a white domed building big enough to see from far below. It made sense to me that a man made structure had to have some way up to it. Too bad I had no idea how to find that.

So I started following the cold creek upward. Downward wasn't an option to me. It meant losing time in climbing and it was a matter of time before it was noted that I was gone. I left a note behind, yes a note. And in it I stated that I couldn't handle the fighting anymore, that I was leaving and didn't want anyone to come looking for me. I even said I would kill myself if they tried. Yes, I was a very depressed and hurting kid. I truly didn't feel I had anywhere safe to turn between my stepmother and a year of bullying in school. Studies now show that our autistic kids (and other special needs) are bullying magnets. I know this to be true from experience.

But, back to the story at hand, I followed the creek and for some time, I had very little trouble balancing on the rocks and even managed to hop across to easier sides a few times. I did great until I came to the waterfall. It wasn't severely high, head level to me for that matter. But there was no way around it. The banks were straight up and down walls of dirt at this point, easily twice my height. It was composed of giant boulders embedded in the earth and the waterfall part was about three feet wide. No choice at all. I searched for handholds and foot holds. I tried to grab on to the smoothed ledges and put my foot up on another below. I pushed myself and promptly slid and fell backwards. I barely caught myself before crashing to the rocks and water behind me.

I admit a feeling of panic at this overbearing obstacle, but I tried again. I managed to reach up to a flat spot that I could set my little suitcase. I pulled myself upward with some struggle and cold water flooded my pants. When I finally got a foot up on the top of the water fall and pulled myself up, I felt quite a sense of achievement, but also of wet and cold. I had reached a new plateau, but still couldn't climb out of the creek. I grabbed my little suitcase and started along the creek again. At this point I realized something. I was thirsty. Did I bring along a bottle of anykind for water? No.

You guessed it, I leaned down and drank that creek water from the snow runoff. It looked clear and it was very cold. Regardless of any risk I took, it was pretty refreshing. Then I spotted a long stick that looked just right for hiking. I grabbed it up and jammed it against the rocks and leaned on it a bit. My father used to carve walking sticks and taught me how to check for one that could bear my weight. I used to whittle on my fair share with my pocket knife. It bore my weight and a stought smack against the rocks, so it got the job. And off I went, little blue suitcase in one hand, stick in the other, and bright orange pack on my back. And, compared to so far, I hadn't faced anything yet.

Over the mountain, part one

I ran away from home when I was just 14. It was a very bipolar and yes somewhat Asperger's thing to do. Keep in mind that no one knew my conditions back then. And I didn't just run away once, but the first time was the most major and life threatening.

I didn't just pack a bag an run away to a friends house. I did decide I wanted to go to my mother's house in Fort Pierce, Florida. But I didn't hitch hike, no I felt that would be too dangerous. Instead I thought I could walk the days, hide out at night and go the entire 2400 mile trip that way. And I started off by hiking over the Wasatch mountain front.

The Wasatch mountain range stretches about 160 miles from Utah's north border southward. The hike took me two days and I made it ten miles, up over the mountian and into the town of Morgan on the other side.

I left to escape my stepmother and her abuse, yes I was rather desperate and severely depressed. I felt no safe haven, so I left. But this isn't to get into the details of her.

I thought I planned it pretty carefully. I would leave on the first day of summer vacation, very early before anyone got up in the morning. Well, I had to wait for Dad to leave for work, he would be up the earliest. I had this little blue flower pattern suitcase and a bright orange hunters backpack. I put some clothing and what I thought were essentials into them. I took my yearbook, a few comics, pencils and a notebook. I also packed in some home canned fruits into the backpack. I didn't stop to consider that going over a mountain with glass jars wasn't the brightest of ideas.

I had most of what I needed ready to go as I lay in my bed and listened to Dad go through his morning ritual. I even heard his old white pickup rumble out of the driveway. Then I went into action. I gathered up my things and headed out. I was so sure that the shortest way to anywhere was a straight line and thought it would be quite an adventure in the process.

Getting to the base of the mountain took longer than I anticipated. The mountains are so large they make themselves look closer than they really are. But I got to them inside of an hour. Then I found paths to lead up through the brush oak at the base. Now it really looked like it would be an easy trip, after all, there were hiking trails. Hiking trails are a good thing right?

Spring runoff was still in full run, meaning that snow up top melted and filled little streams running down the mountain. They then feed creeks and small rivers out to the Great Salt Lake.

I came across a campfire at a point in the path that spread out to a circular clearing. It still smouldered, telling me I wasn't alone on the mountain. The black dirt path led around a corner of sorts and started to follow one of those little streams up ward. The path became narrow and the dirt loose. About twenty feet below the creek bubbled away. I looked up the path and thought it didn't look too bad and started along it. I made it about ten steps before the path fell away from under me.

Acceptance and understanding

That's what people of the autism community really want, acceptance and understanding. I've actually found people confused by this. Various attitudes out there make it more difficult to educate on the idea. Attitudes of "why can't you just get over it" or "just shut up" or "you look normal".

What they don't get is that we have social difficulties that haunt us in everday life; some worse than others. Yes there are those who aren't bothered by it at all, but look aroud, does everyone really look identical to you? They aren't; they're fat, thin, short, tall, and varying shades of color. The same goes for the affects of autism in each member of its community.

You may be frustrated by the strange behavior or reactions that don't make sense to you from some person who actually has autism. But the truth of the matter is that person is likely just as frustrated. That's because he didn't intend that outcome in the first place. Imagine trying to say good morning but having your body or facial expression do something without your consent in the process. Or imagine that your brain won't let you recognize facial expressions and body language in others. You can slowly learn it with intense study and assistance (like I had to have), but for the most part, it's hard work. Wouldn't you appreciate a little understanding from others as you struggle?

I've seen others with worse effects in autism than me and I've seen them struggle. I had them ask me why they couldn't catch the situation before they did something they called "stupid". I told them they aren't stupid, it's part of our condition and we have to get past the issue of those who don't understand. We have to take the opportunity to educate when we can. But you see, there's one expression we learn really fast and that's shock. Shock we never intended to cause and that's very frustrating.

No one wants to be socially impaired and having that problem creates an internal struggle in a lot of autistic people. It can make us try too hard which brings the opposite of desired effect.

So, next time you see someone do or say something that doesn't match the situation very well and it kind of shocks you. Try to pause and reflect for a moment on what made that person do that. Was it autism? Other disorders cause it too, but you get the idea, I hope. And I'm not saying we're all trustworthy either, that's a different scale of issues.

I'll end this with a quote from the movie, Mozart and the Whale: "Autistic people want to be social, we just really suck at it." (Not entirely true so take it loosely).

Where does autism come from?

I've had this question posed to me a thousand times. I know I've blogged on it before, but it seems to bear a rewrite as information evolves.

Autism actually comes from several sources, enough that it's very difficult to trace all forms. Autism is most largely blamed on mercury in vaccines. That only covers about two-fifths of the autism community however. Speciality groups will act as if their approach will solve all issues for all forms of autism, but they can't. That's scientifically impossible. Other groups only cater to one form or branch of autism and leave the rest out.

Now, in talking about where autism comes from, I'm going to mention the cause as forms of damage to our genetic structure. That is in no way meant to imply that people with autism are "damaged" or "useless" as a whole. That is not to imply that all people with autism need to be "cured". We do live with a scale of challenges from having autism and it would be folly to ignore them or consider them for anything less than what they are. It's too easy for us to forget that autism is different for everyone. That the effects are a spectrum of light to heavy effects. People of the high functioning areas may go through life with little difficulty while others can barely function at all. So if you are reading this and are fortunate enough to be high functioning and don't consider your conditions damaging at all, this article is not accusing you or anyone like you of being "damaged". You don't have to be "cured". No one can force you to be.

My definition of damage: How about impaired social function and erratic sensory issues? Those aren't fun and to me they can be very damaging. They aren't the way our bodies are supposed to work. When something doesn't work like it's supposed to, it's "damaged". I am not damaged as a whole person, but parts of me don't work right causing significant life challenges. I would love to have my sensory integration problems "cured" so that simple sounds don't bring me to my knees around "normal" people barely affected.

Now that I've finished the great big disclaimer, what are the sources of autism?

Lead, mercury, and a score of long time pollutants are big time suspects. Even aerosols, after all they could make a hole in the ozone right? How much of that have we breathed in over generations? In what they called "disintegrative child disorder" a child would be functioning normally and then suddenly lose significant function. Function that includes talking, feeding themselves, and loss of potty training. This has been attributed to vaccine "poisoning" or damage. There are long term affects that I believe should be viewed as suspect for longer term damage over generations of exposure or use. Work with dangerous chemicals, drug and alcohol use, heavy pollutant exposure, lead exposure, and even smoking tobacco over generations has slowly damaged our genetic structure. In short, we've created "flaws" that have become hereditary. These aren't just suspect for autism, but a wide range of disabilities that can be hereditary.

Some forms of autism, such as Asperger's syndrome, have been found to be hereditary in nature. That means it has gone so far as to become a genetic trait that can be copied in our children. I believe this is a large part of why numbers are increasing. The human race can't just stop having kids you know. I am going to go so far as to predict that numbers will rise by 50% in the next generation. That's because the average family has two children. Even if one child doesn't have autism, they can still carry the trait from their parents and pass it on to their children.

Sometimes, other injuries can cause damage that mimics autism or exacerbates existing conditions. I'm talking mostly about head injuries. Severe psychological trauma can also worsen some conditions. Sometimes permanently.

I also believe that the nearly limitless combinations of altering conditions over generations, that are different for each person or family tree are why there are so many different aspects on the spectrum of autism. I think it's reasonable to consider that autism through a family caused by drug use combined with lead exposure (over simplifying here) can have a few different effects than a family with causes from totally different chemical environments and exposure. Imagine hundreds of thousands of possible combinations of environmental exposures, each with their own hand in autism. No wonder it's so different for everyone. No wonder it's a "spectrum". No wonder it can't be effectively traced.

The twice exceptional child

A twice exceptional child (also called 2e) is a child with distinct skill or capabilities while also having a distinguished disability or disorder (usually cognitive).

A child with severe autism who can play the piano like a historical composer would be considered a 2e. There are varying degrees of 2e depending on the level of the skills or abilities compared to the incumberance they live with.

Recently I found a question regarding research of 2e children. Research is mostly geared toward the medical condition than the abilities they may have. For the most part, especially for autism, they aren't sure why some of our spectrum kids become savants.

I have my own theory. I think the brain is compensating. Much like what the phenomenon of the blind having better hearing in some cases or the deaf being more sensitive to other vibrations. I think the compensation factor could apply for about anything the brain is capable of.

Asperger's children have been referred to as "little professors" because most of them get attached to a "favorite subject" of some kind. They can tell you the most trivial points of that subject, but have difficulty changing discussion topics away from the favorite. So, if our Asperger's child likes cars and automotive, he will be "stuck in a rut" talking about cars with difficulty changing to talking about anything else. That doesn't mean he can't change that behavior with practice and support. He can, but it will take time and is best started on early.

There's no doubt that these are amazing children. The following are some videos with examples of these incredible kids. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKk96kOAnLg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btv0BZdQYNw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZtU676jA_k

A matter of ethics

I want to tell you about an experience I had after writing an article on Examiner, and article you can see here: http://www.examiner.com/examiner/x-40353-Milwaukee-Pet-News-Examiner~y2010m4d17-Gentle-Hands-Animal-Rescue-and-Rehabilitation-making-a-difference-in-Cascade
I wrote an article about a local rescue that is above and beyond what a lot of private rescues are. Gentle Hands is that rescue. I say above and beyond because of how clean and orderly I found their property. I say above and beyond because of how much of themselves the owners have truly put into their endeavors. Because they are accepted and called upon by local authorities and trusted by them. You can see the article in the links to other articles listed below. Be sure to note the comment section.

Tanya Andrews-Cudworth, of Sable Bay Therapeutics (Briar Hollow Farm) in Cascade, WI posted the following comment:

“I happen to have first hand knowledge that Kristina Bludau and the Gentle Hands Rescue and Rehabilitation was “DENIED” their 501C3 License. According to the State of Wisconsin’s laws, no rescue or shelter may solicit for donations without the federal 501C3 determination which allows a LEGAL non profit organizations to collect donations. As a former CEO of Animal Intake at Wanekia Wanagi Shelter Inc. I was involved in the transactions of adoption and purchases of four of the horses Kristina and her husband claim as rescue horses at their rescue. Gentle Hands Rescue has never filed any of their non-profit tax forms (WI-990). The public has no recorded knowledge of what their donations are being spent on.
If we are to spend our hard earned dollars on fraudulent charities, the ones that file their taxes, provide proof of registration through licensing and do not buy animals to claim as rescued, are losing out on valuable contributions.”

Since a person can put any name they want in the “name bar” in comments, the writer of this article did an internet search and found Tanya’s name and business. You can see her business’s website (link removed by request). On that page is an email, and I contacted it to verify her identity. In her response she verified that she was the person who left this comment. Now let’s take a closer look at the comment.

Comments like this can be very damaging in small town communities and rural ones. It can damage innocent reputations for years. It can cause loss of business and trust. That’s because the average person just doesn’t do that much fact digging. They trust their friends and word of mouth. In these days of recession and hardship, the idea that anyone of any organization is committing “fraud” or “tax evasion” is enough to steer crucial dollars or other donations away.

Denial of non profit status: Mrs. Andrews claims “first hand knowledge” that Gentle hands was denied a 501c3 status. The first question that comes to mind is; doesn’t that mean you got the knowledge from Gentle Hands themselves? In email correspondence, Tanya stated “a colleague” gave her the information. She neglected to identify that colleague. In articles about Gentle Hands (mine and one at Sheboygan Press), Kristina states clearly that they are in the process of applying for the non profit status. In questions to update, they are nearly finished with the paperwork, so have not sent it in yet. One would submit that you cannot be denied when you haven’t applied yet. Denial comes after an application is filed, not before.

Non filing of non profit taxes: This creates quite a contradiction of terms in the comment. You can’t file non-profit taxes without a non-profit tax status. Any other income is reported via various requirements. Gentle Hands has an accountant in employ taking care such issues and keeping financial records. If they didn’t keep accurate records they would have little chance of obtaining a non profit in the first place.

Not being licensed: Investigation and question of authorities has shown that Gentle Hands has all licensing required for their level of operation.

Not legal to ask for donations: The law that finally got pointed out when certain parties complained about this response article was Wisconsin Statute chapter 440.42 that does say as quoted above about donations. There’s just one problem. They fail to quote the definitions section that shows that, in order for this law to apply to your organization you have to fall within a set of guidelines. One of them included making more than 5000 dollars a year in monetary donations. Gentle Hands (as I found out and they are more than willing to show their paperwork under proper conditions) is lucky to make 25 bucks in a month if anything at all. It also suggests that you have to have a non profit status. See above for the contradiction on that one. So, the law does not apply to Gentle Hands, not yet. So there is nothing illegal about any suggestion that they need some help to care for the animals of their private rescue.

The four horses mentioned, also not identified in email discussion, were found to be purchased two years before Gentle Hands was established. There are several horses on the property today.

So who is the mystery colleague? The only lead given is Wanekia Wanagi Shelter, located in Kiel and run by Sherry Murlasits. You can see the website for this shelter HERE. An email inquiry received no response. When a response did come along, I had written a version of this article (this one is updated) and posted it on Examiner. This made me the new target of the day with those quote complaining and Examiner decided that my article didn’t fit “publishing guidelines” after quite a debate and now it’s here instead.

When asked if Tanya was making a direct accusation she said, “I’m not accusing anyone.” However, looking at the comment, it’s hard not to see it as just that.

Then the question comes to why? Why go out of your way to attack another animal organization? The comment and email correspondence made several references to how unfair it is for money to go to Gentle Hands compared to somewhere else not identified. Is it competition then? Or is it some kind of personal vendetta? Comment from Gentle Hands is that they receive very little in monetary donations, rather they get supplies more often.

Webster’s dictionary defines smearing as attempt to harm a reputation, malign or slander. Slander is use of unfounded or false information to do harm by word of mouth. In writing, it’s called libel.

When any organization or representative (claimed or otherwise) stoops to such behavior, you have to question their ethics and whether or not you would want to do business with such people. The consumer has a right to know the ethical and unethical behaviors of any organization they put their dollar to. That was Mrs. Andrews excuse for her allegations that common sense and the law itself just proved incorrect if not outright false.

The writer of this article is not employed or partnered with Gentle Hands and can only present the facts as they are found and given. The rest is up to you.