Our Journey Raising Two Children with Special Needs

This blog chronicles our life raising two children, Nicholas 14, diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome and Weston 17, diagnosed with Autism/Asperger's/ADHD. It's the ups, the downs, the joys, the sorrows and most importantly, the beauty of living a life less perfect, a life more meaningful.

Friday, August 19, 2016


I believe in Guardian Angels

If you are a long-time reader of my blog,
perhaps you remember a vision I had
of an angel perched on the roof of my vehicle?

I had this vision shortly before a near-miss traffic incident;
one I probably shouldn't have survived.

Well, it happened once again.

I cannot explain how I am still alive. 

Oh yes,
I believe.

Let me explain.

This summer, I am devoting my time to finding an appropriate school for Nick.

I am determined to find a safe and healthy school environment,
where he can build long-term friendships
and thrive within a close-knit community,
one that understands and accommodates his unique needs.

No easy task.

The new SPED Director and I have visited many private schools in the area.
Most of them located up and down the I-95 corridor,
a highly-traveled interstate freeway.

I was returning home from a successful visit to an ideal school,
(more on that later),
when I found myself cruising behind
a massive and overwhelmingly intimidating eighteen-wheeler.

Not just any eighteen-wheeler...

a dirty, monstrous, gravel-slugging dump truck carrying over a ton of stone.

The kind of truck that makes Stephen Spielberg's "Duel" truck...

look more like a kitty cat.

Anyway, due to my previously-mentioned close-call,
I am reluctant to drive behind trucks carrying stuff,
any kind of stuff,
especially heavy, flying gravel kind-of-stuff.

So I gently pull my vehicle over to the left-hand-lane 
and begin to pass the large, lumbering lug.

Just as I approach the behemoth's left-rear axle, I hear a tremendous:


I see his rear inner tire explode in a noxious cloud of deep, black smoke.
The thick rubber tread unravels from the wheel like toilet paper.
It splits into two flying projectiles.
One large and deadly ribbon of rubber
tumbles haphazardly behind the rig
where I had been traveling only seconds before.
The other small piece shoots toward me
like an arrow sprung from a bow
and ricochets off my windshield
directly in front of my face.
Instinctively, I duck
as the molten missile
leaves a thick black smudge of rubber on the glass.
It bounces up and onto my roof
with a loud clang.

The scene unravels before me as if it were a movie playing in slow motion.

I think, this is it.
I am about to die in a horrific accident.
I am certain the driver will lose control of the thundering beast
and crash into my truck, sending me who knows where.

Instantly my mind's eye replays many a nightly news report
of harrowing tractor trailer incidents;
large trucks moving at high speeds
who experience blowouts

But miraculously, nothing happens
no swerving,
no crashing
no sound of screeching brakes
or crunching metal

The truck operator stays calm and in-control.
He de-accelerates slowly
holding the rig steady
as he maneuvers the gentle giant 
safely into the break-down lane.

I am completely safe.
There is no scratch or dent to my vehicle,
Just a solitary black smudge on my windshield
to remind me
of how fortunate I am.
to be alive.

You better believe.....

I believe