Tags:
Humor,
Crime,
Marx,
Christmas,
gun,
sabotage,
Abduction,
Comedy,
new jersey,
autism,
groucho,
syndrome,
leah,
mole,
mobster,
aaron,
ethan,
planet of the apes,
hannukah,
chanukah,
tucker,
assault,
abby,
brother in law,
car,
dog,
aspergers
He
didn’t know it was in the twenties outside, because twelve-year-old
boys don’t have nerve endings. He was staring blankly at a Disney
Channel movie called “The Luck of the Irish,” which they run about
every 20 minutes. I was hoping some day to make as much from
screenwriting in a year as the guy who wrote this TV movie gets in
a month of reruns.
“Hi, Dad.” For all he noticed, I could have just come
home from getting a gallon of milk at the convenience store.
Depending on to whom one speaks, Asperger’s Syndrome (AS, for those
of us in the know) is either a form of, or similar to,
high-functioning autism. Kids like Ethan, who are on the
higher-functioning end of the autism spectrum, are not severely
hampered in their lives, but need help understanding the world’s
finer points—like the fact that when their fathers leave home for
four days, it’s not the same as a trip to the neighborhood video
store.
“Hi, kiddo. Come here.” I held out my arms to embrace
him, and he looked at me like I had to be insane. “Come on.”
He glanced at the TV screen again, but he knew I was
serious. He stood, walked to me, and put his arms around me
awkwardly, making sure he was positioned to keep his eyes turned
toward the kid on TV who was turning into a leprechaun right before
the big basketball game. No, I’m not kidding.
“I’m glad to see you,” I told my son.
“Uh-huh,” he answered lovingly. I let him go because
two better huggers were headed my way from the kitchen.
Leah, newly nine years old, was, unsurprisingly,
faster than her mother, but I had to bend to receive the flying hug
she offered. It was worth it, since Leah hugs whole-armedly,
essentially wrapping herself around the huggee in an outpouring of
affection. A Leah hug is worth flying 3,000 miles.
“Hello, pussycat,” I said. Despite my general
indifference to cats, I used it as a term of affection. “I missed
you.”
“I missed you, too, Daddy,” came the chirpy voice a
quarter inch away from my left ear. “Did you bring me
something?”
I put my daughter down. “You’ll see when I unpack my
bag,” I told her.
“That means yes.” She eyed my bag the way Warren eyes
a roast beef we’re having for dinner.
Ethan looked up from the couch. “Did I get something,
too?”
I turned to Abby. “This he hears,” I said. She smiled
widely and put her arms around me. A hug from Abby is worth
traveling 3,000 miles, too, but for different reasons.
“Welcome home,” she said. For a few moments, I felt
quite welcome indeed. Then, of course, I had to let go and resume
the non-hugging part of my life, which in my opinion is vastly
inferior to the hugging part. Then again, if you were hugging all
the time, it would be difficult to ride a bicycle.
“Have you eaten?” Abby asked.
“You’re such a Jewish lady.”
“Nonetheless.”
“They gave us something on the plane, but I’m not
sure what it was, or what time zone I was in at the time. I didn’t
eat it, anyway.”
“So you’ve had about 25 Diet Cokes and you’re loaded
with caffeine?” Abby stood marveling at how I managed to survive
four days without her dietary supervision. Luckily, God had
invented the cellphone.
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Come in the kitchen. I’ve got some chicken left over
from dinner.”
As I followed my wife toward the kitchen, Leah took
hold of my hand. “Daddy . . . She looked up at me
with big expressive eyes, and I thought I saw a tear welling up in
one of them. I knelt.
“What’s the matter, baby girl?”
“Aren’t you going to give me my present?” Her lip
actually quivered.
I waved a hand at her as I stood up, ever so
creakily. “Go through the bag,” I told her. “Just don’t destroy any
of my stuff.”
“Yay!”
Ethan looked over and considered joining in the hunt
for gifts. Luckily for him, the leprechaun movie went to
commercial. He rushed around the couch to help his sister plunder
through my luggage.