Click to play (Click for lyrics)
A good blog piece is like a good piece of pop music: essentially trivial, it still contains just enough wit and glimpses of interest to keep the reader coming back. The main difference is that you cannot always rely on a catchy tune to save the day (unless you click to play!): a few cute pictures must needs go, that the devil drives. With this thought, but accompanied by the excellent Mr Lloyd Cole (1984, 2011), I announce a return to Devenish...
I have really no idea what has kept readers coming back to a blog that has lain dormant for three months or more: in the last month this blog has received nearly 300 hits: in its heyday, it never exceeded 700. Go figure, whether this is good or bad news, whether I should bother. At all. events, I really appreciate those returning visitors, wherever and whyever you are... this is for you.
'Shame on you, you've got no sense of grace, shame on me
ah just in case I might come to a conclusion
other than that which is absolutely necessary
and that's perfect skin...'
Justin also is blessed with perfect skin, and though I'm reasonably certain that this is all he has in common with Louise, the protagonist in Lloyd Cole's 1983 song —'Louise is the girl/with the perfect skin/She says 'Turn on the light/otherwise it can't be seen.'/She's got cheekbones like geometry/ and eyes like sin... [that line worthy of Leonard Cohen]—nevertheless he is, on the cusp of turning three years old, perfect in so many other ways, too. Three years ago, even two, I could not have imagined that he would bring so much happiness into our lives, into the lives of everyone who knows him. Quite the opposite. In the days immediately following his diagnosis as a child with Down Syndrome, I felt cursed and condemned, knowing that it was my duty to take care of him, wondering what I had done to deserve such a punishment. Parent and martyr, me! I write this, as with previous posts about Justin, in the hope that my experience will help and encourage other new parents in this apparently unenviable situation. For the fact is that my life has been enhanced immeasurably by Justin's being here, by his take on reality (as well as I can interpret it), by his innocence and—for those are perhaps attributes of every young child—by his otherness. Had he been born with the usual number of chromosome pairs, I might never have realized, despite twenty-odd years of teaching and research ('Barring pathology...'), that language input and general intelligence really doesn't produce grammatical competence: Justin's total productive language consists of about 20 'words', most of which are manual iconic gestures; he has only a very few arbitrary signs—none of them referential—and one or two two-sign combinations. On the other hand, I couldn't have known just how much can be communicated without language. (Or, maybe I would have, anyway: by coming gradually to the conclusion that the Japanese language is just a teasing form of ornamentation that Japanese people use to disguise their telepathic abilities: certainly, it serves no obvious communicative function. But I digress).
Nor would I have appreciated how difficult walking really is. I should have, of course: after a lifetime of (reading about) robotics research, even the fictional Daleks have only just managed to get upstairs. Seeing how long it is taking Justin to learn to walk confidently and fluidly, it is really awe-inspiring that typical children master this skill in a matter of weeks. (We had to make two 4-hour round trip visits a fortnight ago to a hospital in the back of beyond in Fukuchiyama, to have special insoles made to improve Justin's gait and posture. We have these now: the only problem is that he hardly wears shoes, since no-one wears anything inside and he rarely walks outside. Catch-22. But over time, it must help!)
Now, where was I? Yes, the better beta. I'll get there in the next post. Promise.
Click to play (2011) (We are not getting any younger. It's still a great song, but something is lost.)
A good blog piece is like a good piece of pop music: essentially trivial, it still contains just enough wit and glimpses of interest to keep the reader coming back. The main difference is that you cannot always rely on a catchy tune to save the day (unless you click to play!): a few cute pictures must needs go, that the devil drives. With this thought, but accompanied by the excellent Mr Lloyd Cole (1984, 2011), I announce a return to Devenish...
I have really no idea what has kept readers coming back to a blog that has lain dormant for three months or more: in the last month this blog has received nearly 300 hits: in its heyday, it never exceeded 700. Go figure, whether this is good or bad news, whether I should bother. At all. events, I really appreciate those returning visitors, wherever and whyever you are... this is for you.
'Shame on you, you've got no sense of grace, shame on me
ah just in case I might come to a conclusion
other than that which is absolutely necessary
and that's perfect skin...'
Nor would I have appreciated how difficult walking really is. I should have, of course: after a lifetime of (reading about) robotics research, even the fictional Daleks have only just managed to get upstairs. Seeing how long it is taking Justin to learn to walk confidently and fluidly, it is really awe-inspiring that typical children master this skill in a matter of weeks. (We had to make two 4-hour round trip visits a fortnight ago to a hospital in the back of beyond in Fukuchiyama, to have special insoles made to improve Justin's gait and posture. We have these now: the only problem is that he hardly wears shoes, since no-one wears anything inside and he rarely walks outside. Catch-22. But over time, it must help!)
Now, where was I? Yes, the better beta. I'll get there in the next post. Promise.
Click to play (2011) (We are not getting any younger. It's still a great song, but something is lost.)
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