Charlie is my nephew and godson. At race time, he'll be almost 5 years old, a few months away from being a first-grader.
This kid inspires me DAILY to do big things I don't think I can do.
When Charlie was small, a year and two years old, he spent a lot of time with his toys, lining them up. Everything he had would be in a line, sometimes a very long line. He didn't really make-believe, and there was little pretend play. It didn't matter what it was- cars, animals, stuffies- they were lined up. Stacking, too. He stacked anything that could be stacked, and even some things that couldn't be stacked. We have photographic evidence of one particular day when he stacked all of his rubber balls (and one miniature football).
Until about the turn of 2022, Charlie was considered non-verbal. He was three before he could form the word "mama," and let me tell you, my sister cried that day. He started learning ASL, so he'd be able to communicate. I signed up for ASL classes too, so I could communicate back to him. As he progressed through speech therapy with his incredible early intervention team, he gained more words, but it was still difficult to understand him. He would get frustrated, and we would get frustrated.
The people he loves each had their own sound. Mommy and Gaggy (Daddy), Nanny and Ah-Ah (Savta). I'm Keke. His godfather John, called Padrinho (Portuguese for godfather), was Ning. He calls my partner TG, short for "this guy." He would make sounds that *we* knew meant particular words, but unless you spoke Charlie you wouldn't understand.
Charlie persevered. He started school when he turned 3, in an integrated classroom. His classmates learned from him, and he learned from his classmates.
Today, Charlie has full conversations. He still has some speech quirks (my favorite is bood shocking instead of food shopping), but an average person that doesn't know him would be able to have a conversation with him too. He can call me and tell me about his day. He can tell me about his feelings, and his thoughts, and his wants and needs. Because of the high Portuguese population in his area of Massachusetts (and of course because of Ning) he's even learning Portuguese words, and he uses them separately from English words.
Charlie exhibits some classic signs of autism. He's particular about being touched, and about being messy. He has safe foods and foods he doesn't like the texture of. He has stimming behaviors to soothe overstimulation, and we're working on tools to avoid the overstimulation in the first place. He also has a remarkable ability to learn and retain new things, to problem-solve, and to exhibit tenderness when he thinks you're upset. His superpower is warm hugs.
One of my FAVORITE things about Charlie is his intrepid spirit. He has an Adventure Backpack, which you can see in some of the photos. When he's wearing his Adventure Backpack, he knows that things will be different from how he's used to, and it helps him handle those changes to routine and environment- because they're adventures. The backpack usually has (at minimum) a car, a dinosaur, a snack, and a scribble pad. Sometimes multiples of those things, sometimes a book, whatever he thinks he might need. He has a special hat he wears for flying to visit Keke, and I am HERE FOR IT.
Charlie was diagnosed at age 2 with Autism Spectrum Disorder. He had the benefit of early detection and intervention, and he lives in a state with some really excellent resources for small humans living with autism. I believe this is directly because of the influence of the Flutie Foundation- Charlie lives in Massachusetts, where the Fluties are from.
I chose the Flutie Foundation as my partner for this race because of my sister's (and my nephew's) experiences with early support and detection. It's so important to remove the stigma of asking for testing early. My sister Carrie had to advocate for Charlie hard in the beginning- she heard "it's because of quarantine, he can't socialize with others" and "he's just delayed." Some parents, when they hear someone suggest early intervention, take it personally, like they did something wrong. The support systems that the Flutie Foundation works to provide are the way we remove that stigma. Some organizations focus on finding a "cure" for autism, rather than embracing the fascinating operating system neurodivergence offers and finding ways to coexist with it in a neurotypical society. Support is helping parents to understand that neurodivergence isn't bad, or upsetting, or something that's going to ruin their child's life. Employability, social interactions, and independence are completely possible with the right support system.
I've never been a runner. I've never run a race. I decided that the Dopey Challenge was a thing I wanted to accomplish. I didn't start particularly well, but like Charlie, I'm improving every time I hit the pavement. Like Charlie, I'm collecting all the information I can find. Like Charlie, I'm lining up all of my runs. Like Charlie, I won't be finished until I'm exactly where I want it to be. Charlie has been supplying the inspiration. I've been handling the determination and preparation. I need your help with execution. Unless I fill that little money meter to the right, I can't compete. More importantly, though, unless I fill that little money meter to the right, the Doug Flutie Jr. Foundation for Autism can't continue to change lives like Charlie's with early intervention and continued support.
Thank you in advance for your help. I appreciate you.