scripted

Screen shot 2015-08-20 at 6.16.24 AM

{image is a Tweet that I tweeted (is there really no better way to say that?) last March. Above a photo of Lt Joe Kenda talking with Carl Marino, who plays him on the Investigation Discovery show, Homicide Hunter, I’d written, “Seeing @LtJoeKenda hangin out w/ @carlmarino1 is like seeing Clark Kent chatting with Superman. It’s just .. wrong.” And yes, it made my day when Carl Marino favorited it. It’s the small things, people.}

At dinner the other night, we were talking about an article I’d seen on Jezebel (and immediately sent to Luau after reading no more than the headline: Why Are Women Obsessed With Investigation Discovery’s Grisly TV Shows? 

As a woman who is indeed obsessed with ID’s grisly TV shows (Hullo, Joe Kenda?) for reasons that I’ve never been fully capable of conveying to Luau (who thinks it’s creepy and sometimes worries for his own safety), I was flabbergasted to find out that this was an actual thing. Like, there are other people out there in the world who would, if left to their own devices, binge watch true crime dramatizations for hours on end despite (I assume) being emphatically non violent people like me.

Anyway, none of this is really the point. And I do have one, I swear.

I was telling Luau that I’d been amazed to find out that there’s an actual community of ID enthusiasts who come together around their ID fandom. Apparently they live-Tweet certain shows, working through the mysteries together and trying to solve the whodunnits before finding out, well, who done it.

I expressed my reservations about that concept, given that most of the stories are about real people and thus incredibly tragic. I’d hate for their families to think that someone was making a game of their loss. But then I added, “But obviously that’s not a factor for the scripted shows.”

Katie, who sometimes gets stuck watching the shows with me joins me in watching the shows, said, “There are scripted shows on there? I thought they were all like documentaries of real stuff.”

Overlapping her words, her sister piped up.

Brooke, who would not have appeared to an outsider to have been even remotely listening to any of this (we know better, don’t we, friends?), lit up as she shouted, “SCRIPTED???”

“Yes, Brooke,” Katie said giggling, “scripted.”

Brooke grinned.

“You like scripts, don’t you, kiddo?” I asked.

“Uh huh,” she said.

“That’s your jam,” said her sister.

I basked in the moment, In the knowledge that my kid has a jam. And even more, in watching her discover that it has a very real, important, and even, as a bonus, commercially viable function not just for her, but for other people too.

And then I sat quietly for a while. And I chewed on this. (Go ahead and read that. I’ll still be here in the middle of this thought when you get back, I promise.) And I marinated in the fact that it’s really been such a short time (and forever) since I sat there across the table from John scratching my head and wondering how on earth he had the audacity to say that there were gifts in autism when all I saw — all I could possibly see through my frustrated, scared, angry, sad Mama filter — were its challenges.

And now this, one of the most prominent of those challenges and greatest of my fears, was — is — one of my girl’s most potent gifts.

Echolalia.

Delayed Echolalia.

Scripting.

Once lamented as no more than a lack of novel language and a painfully restrictive lexicon, later used as a springboard for linguistic development and interaction, and now? Now celebrated as a gateway to memory, mimicry, creativity, the WRITING OF PLAYS, the casting of roles, and Heaven knows what else?

Scripts are my girl’s jam.

How bout that?

 

9 thoughts on “scripted

  1. Love, love, love, a hundred times love!! Perhaps a future playwright, or poet, or actress, or……well, anything she wants to be. Because she is ABLE to be.

  2. “How about that?”, you ask. I love that Brooke has a jam. That’s how about that. To a great extent, life is a script. Isn’t it?

    Love you,
    Mom

  3. Love this as always, but I am a little confused. “…as I sat there across the table from John…”?
    I know the grammar police will be after me, but I was just concerned that if Luau is really John, maybe you can fix it before too many people saw it. I won’t be offended if you delete my post in case that was a slip of the tongue and you changed it. Otherwise, I am one of those ID marathon watchers. It may concern my husband that I talk to the tv during shows such as Homicide Hunter and Who the BLEEP Did I Marry, but he humors me. Or he’s afraid that I know how to get rid of a body and it makes him nervous. Lol! Kidding! 🙂 ~Tina~

    • Thanks for the look out, but if you click on the link in the previous sentence, it’s a post about a dinner with John Robison 😉

  4. I left out the most important part! Brooke has a jam! Rap Star, Singer, Actor, Writer? The sky is the limit, beautiful one, and you keep reaching for those stars. Brooke understands life more than some adults I know!
    ~Tina~

  5. That’s what I get for multitasking on top of multitasking. I’m juggling too many flaming swords today. My son-in-law hung himself and we didn’t find out until yesterday, and that was several days later. (Technically Step-son-in-law. My husband has 3 daughters but I claim them all as mine.) 🙂

  6. Thank you so much! I immediately loved my husbands 3 girls when I met them. I love them all dearly and I just don’t know what to do. I feel the rest of us are on auto-pilot. Our girl(she’s Jess, too) can’t even get to the auto-pilot point. She’s a widow at 23. It breaks my heart that she’s hurting so bad and I can’t do anything to ease her pain. Thank you for listening. ~Tina H~

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