Parenthood (as in the show)

Last night as I was multi-tasking in front of the television I stumbled across a show I'd heard about but never seen, Parenthood, on NBC. I'd heard little snatches of discussion about the show, particularly about the storyline featuring the child with Asperger's, but didn't want to get involved with watching for various reasons. One was really that I can't put another TV show on my schedule. Don't we all feel this way? Something's got to give. I've got to find more time somewhere to eek out completion of the things are on my to do list that are well, never getting done. Another big reason is that I dislike dramas that try to "do" big topics like an illness or special needs, or even feature a Christian character, because my fear is that they're just going to get it wrong. There's going to be too much cheeze, too much Hollywood, not enough research on what the experience is actually like, that I'd just end up angry.

But I started watching Parenthood, because I was doing something else on the computer at the same time. Then I got sucked in. There was the older sister, in high school (I could see Anna, in a few - gulp! - years). And the boy, Max (maybe 8 or 9?), with his mop of curly brown hair, eyes glued on a hand-held computer game. No, Ethan doesn't have Asperger's, it's basically known as a milder form of autism and usually diagnosed later, but I could see Ethan in this character. There was this scene where the extended family were gathered around the TV watching a baseball game. Everyone was shouting, yelling, cheering. Everyone except Max, who was intently focused on whatever this game was.

The dad, Adam, came over to talk to him. The dad, the oldest of two brothers and a sister, in whom I saw myself. "Max, don't you want to come over and watch with us?" he asked, trying to sound light-hearted, but you could hear the longing in his voice. Max didn't respond. The dad tried a few approaches. You could sense his desperation. Nothing worked, and so Adam left his son to go back to the game. As he did he saw his brother chatting and coloring with his young daughter, Adam's niece. They were sharing, giggling, just matter-of-factly talking. Just a typical moment with a typical family. The camera panned up and in a couple of seconds captured so many things in Adam's eyes...the sadness, the amazement at the ease of their interaction, the longing to make a connection with his own son like that, the fatigue with trying so hard.

Dan walked into into the room at that moment and I burst into tears. "What's wrong?" he asked. "What upset you?"

"I'm not sad!" I kept trying to say through my tears. "That's not it. It's that they GET it. Someone actually took the feelings and emotions I've felt just to a 'T' and put it up there. Someone understands."

I couldn't quite articulate what I meant. I still can't.

Later I read that the creator of the show has a son with Asperger's and has taken a lot of the story lines from his own life. I knew that before I read it, I think. The script was written and filmed like someone who had to have lived it. They were just actors reading lines with the lights on and cameras rolling, but they were telling a story, a bit of my story, my family's story and many, many others' stories. We didn't need it to be told in a prime time drama in order to be validated, but I guess that's how I felt. Validated. I just looked up that word, validate. Webster's says it is "to recognize, establish, or illustrate the worthiness or legitimacy of."

Growing up, I felt as if no one had a clue what autism was about, that maybe everything we were going through wasn't really supposed to be talked about. We were just supposed to deal with it. Thank God things have changed. Shows like "Parenthood" are taking small steps to show just an inkling of what so many families live with and struggle with. Just the tip of the iceberg, really. When it comes to autism spectrum disorders, one can underestimate the importance of this type of knowledge, which leads to better understanding, more empathy, and greater compassion.