Music To My Ears: A Parent Blogs on Music for Autism’s Boston Debut with Classical Tangent
Kelly Wallask, mother of Knox, posted February 21, 2011.
Sunday afternoon I was in a familiar place, fighting back tears in front of dozens of strangers.
It was supposed to be a happy event. In fact, it was a happy event. Members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra were playing a concert for kids with autism. It was organized by this wonderful non-profit called Musicforautism.org.
It was so damn carefully planned, which is initially what got me. They thought of everything.
“We’re going to ask that you not clap today,” the emcee said to begin the show. Instead, he showed us how to silently clap by putting our hands in the air and opening and closing them.
The subtext was clear: Some of our kids have a hard time with noise, like clapping, and we want everyone to have a nice time.
The music — a mix of folk and classical — was soft. Really soft. At least it seemed that way because the crowd was loud. So loud, you had to strain to hear the music at times.
When does the mighty BSO ever get drowned out by the sound of people dancing and singing along to their music? When does the BSO ever play, “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain”
Again, the subtext rang clear: We want everyone to have a nice time. Not everyone can handle the sounds of a loud orchestra, even a mini-orchestra. The tone was clear: The music was not the focus, the kids were.
What was most overwhelming was being in a room with 100 people who get it. We were surrounded by 100 people who were family, even though many of us had never met. Without a word spoken, we were among people who understood each other’s challenges and struggles and were there for each other.
Autism creates a wonderful kinship among parents. When you have cried over the same things, obsessed over the same challenges, and fought the same battles, it creates an iron-clad bond with people you have never even spoken to.
Many of the kids who attended had autism with a capital A. They were far, far more severe than Knox. These are the kids who live in a group home and probably always will. They will never know the freedom of driving themselves and their friends to get an ice cream on a steamy July night. They’d never be able to attend an event like this on their own.
One of these kids, a teen-ager with autism with a capital A, showed his appreciation of the music by baaaaing like a sheep. Another teen-age boy jumped up and down — directly in front of the orchestra — as if he was in the middle of a mosh pit.
Remember, this was a mini-orchestra. We weren’t listening to Iron Maiden. Imagine the disapproving looks these kids and their parents would have received at a real BSO concert.
And that’s what had me biting my lip as hard as I could to keep the tears from flowing. No one reacted. Everyone just smiled and said, “Look what a good time Joey is having!”
No disapproving looks. No snubbing. Just acceptance.
It was beautiful.
Music to my ears.
