Why I Am Starting A Blog

I have been thinking about starting a blog for quite a while, for some reason it has taken me several years to actually get around to doing it.  I want to document the stories of our family, and our life with Fragile X Syndrome, Autism, and a few other medical diagnosis thrown in for good measure.  We seem to have more than our fair share, so it seems like we should have more than a few good stories.....we shall see. 

My first memory of Fragile X was at age 5.  Road trip with my family (dad, pregnant  mom and toddler brother) to visit my grandparents and my uncle David.  David is my fathers youngest sibling.  The youngest of 6 siblings, and only 9 years my senior.  Dave would have been 13 at the time of our visit, and I could not have been more thrilled with my playmate.  Dave was perfect in my eyes.  He had bright red hair, a dry sense of humor, and never seemed to tire of my 5 year old questions.  Though he was a "big kid", he liked playing with me.  We were quite a duo that week, Dave taught me so many things.  I had a new found advantage with my tall companion, we could reach things before unattainable, we got ourselves into a fair share of mischief (and cookies).  Dave had an impressive lunch box collection.  He had an 8-track tape player and we played Kenny Rogers Greatest Hits and "Every Elvis Album Ever Made" until my grandpa offered us a quarter each if we would turn it off.  He taught me all about the "cool shows" on television. No more Looney Toones for me, I was now savvy to Batman, Merv Griffin, and "The News". 
I reveled in the week, being with Dave was like being with royalty.  Whatever food Dave wanted, we just had to ask and we got it.  If we were at the store and we wanted to go home, we got to go home, no questions asked.  Dave was my pass to everything wonderful in the world.  He was perfect in my eyes.  Then one afternoon my grandma had a friend over for coffee.  I overheard them talking in hushed tones about Dave.  I stood as still as I could as to not be detected in the hallway as I eavesdropped, I heard my Grandmother tell her friend that Dave was "Retarded".  I felt that I now understood, this must be something very special about Dave.  This was why he had such a wonderful life, and my grandparents adored him so much.  It all made perfect sense in my 5 year old world.
The next day we left for home.  I didn't want to leave Dave and our new found friendship.  He gave me a parting gift, a Scooby Doo lunch box from his prized collection.  Included was a orange plaid kitchen towel donated by my grandmother and very specific instructions from Dave about not letting my lunch box get wet and several reminders what he had taught me about rust and the damage it could do to my prized lunch box.  I dutifully dried the rain drops off my lunch box as we drove away in our station wagon with wood paneling, and I watched as Dave's red hair disappeared out the back window. 
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time 37 years, back to when I had this wonderful week with Dave.  Back to when a child's wisdom knew how wonderfully special Dave's lessons would be to my life.