wanted

when i was 4 years old, my family lived near St. Paul, Minnesota. (I think --i'll fact check this later.) For Christmas that year I was surprised to find a doll that could walk and talk. It was for me. Someone guessed that I would love a doll like that. I don't remember if I'd seen the commercials and shown interest. Or whehter my mom simply knew.

The year I was 9 years old, or was it 10, I received a homemade cabbage patch doll. The doll had black yarn for hair. I hated the doll. Because it was homemade. Because it had black yarn for hair. My hair is not black. That's what I wanted to believe.

At the age of 5 years, I think I remember the age correctly, I received a family of dolls of the same size and shape as the Barbie dolls. The mom had medium-brown hair, curled, and perhaps there were some highlights in the mother doll's hair. There was a father doll. I think he had brown hair and brown eyes. But his hair was painted on to the molded plastic shaped like a man's haircut. Then there were two children dolls. The little girl I think had blond curly hair. And there was a baby boy, who maybe had brown hair that was not painted like the dad's, but was short and quite pleasant.

I don't remember receiving any other dolls for Christmas, and I don't remember any for a birthday, either. I'm sure I had some other dolls that I played with, and they must have been the Barbie type dolls. But where they came from, I don't recall.

Oysters and Mussels and Crawdads and Grandpa

 When my Granddaddy was a boy and he was hungry, he would go to the river. I guess I don't know all the details about that, because I'm wondering now why he didn't try to catch fish. Maybe he was too hungry and went for the easy calories! (Think about the title of this post.)

As an adult, out with friends and work associates, sometimes the opportunity to eat shellfish came up. From what I've been told, my Granddad did not care to eat shellrish as an adult. I reflected on that as I opened a can this morning -- oily, already-shelled shellfish in a convenient can. Maybe it doesn't taste like a delicacy. Maybe it is hardly palatable at all. But the fat and other benefits assure me that I won't be hungry when I eat them. And at least some of what's in the food is good for me.

I wonder whether I'll go the way of my Grandfather as I expand my horizons, and stop wanting to eat the little creatures found in riverbeds and on the ocean floor. Or maybe I will aspire to be like Sam Walton, eating a can of tuna while chatting with boots-on-the-ground employees in my stores.

Kids mimic parents, TBIs, Autism, and my memories

I'm exploring traumatic brain injury, autism, how children emulate their parents' behavior, and my own life experiences both independent from, and within my family of origin.

A noteworthy piece of information is that my dad suffered a traumatic brain injury when he was a small child. Also of note is the influence that his upbrining may have had on his altered behavior. His father was an officer in the Marine Corps. His grandmother and school teachers were Catholic. I have heard reports that my dad's grandmother was quite critical, and that she had a big part in raising him.

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When I was in kindergarten, in the days when playgrounds were still a little on the wild side, there was a metal "bubble" or "spiderweb" for kids to climb on, hang from, and play under. The bubble was twice as high as I was tall. Maybe a little more.

One day my class was playing on the bubble. I remember it as though it were a special occassion. Maybe  the teacher was giving us an extra recess as a reward for our good behavior in class? I had dared to swing from the bars of the web, and was a little anxious about it. The bars were a little far apart for me. Maybe I had a friend doing it and I wanted to join her? And I was elated when I found myself hanging at the top of the structure, swinging freely and savoring the sensation.

A boy climbing above me started prying at my fingers. Who knows why? I voiced my displeasure to the boy, but he didn't stop, and I fell. Maybe I hit my head on the hard, black rubber tiles below. Maybe my mom came to pick me up from school, and maybe I was a bit nauseous.

I often think about how my dad hit his head when he was about the same age. 

I also think about how I feel a kindship with neurodivergent thinkers. And I've wondered about the disrupted brain development of people on the autism spectrum. And about traumatic brain injuries. To me it seems reasonable that people who've experienced TBIs and people with autism would relate to each other's experiences. Because it involves their brains might function more similarly to one another than to other people.

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I asked Grok AI to describe the similarties for me. Here is some of the information I received: 

"People with TBIs often struggle with interpreting social cues, much like those on the autism spectrum. This includes:

"Difficulty recognizing emotoins in others' facial expressions (facial afect recognition), particularly negative ones like fear or disgust, which can lead to misunderstandings in interactions and increased isolation or depression." (reference psychologychartered.co.uk)

"Challenges maintaining eye contact, reading body language, or navigating social situations, resulting in deficits in social judgments and communication skills." (flintrehab.com; thetreetop.com)

"Broader communication deficits, such as language disorders or trouble with verbal and nonverbal expression, which mirror autism's core traits." (pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov; healthline.com)

SENSORY AND PROCESSING DIFFERENCES

"Sensory processing disorders, where everyday stimuli (like sounds or textures) become overwhelming, akin to sensory overload in autism. (flintrehab.com; pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov)

"Impaired information processing speed, which affects how quickly someone responds to their environment -- a shared deficit that can make routines feel essential for stability." (pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov)

BEHAVIORAL AND EXECUTIVE FUNCTION OVERLAPS

"Repetitive or rigid behaviors often emerge post-TBI, echoing autism spectrum patterns:

"Problems with self-regulation and behavior, including emotional outbursts, impulsivity, or repetitive actions like rocking or hand-flapping."(citations are the same as above citations.)

"Impaired executive function, such s challenges with planning, flexibility, or attention, leading to a strong preference for sameness and routines.

"Heightened anxiety, stress, or behavioral disorrers that can intensify in social settings.

PHYSICAL AND OTHER SHARED TRAITS

"TBIs and autism can both impact motor skills and overall health:
"Balance/coordination issues and reduced muscle strength, which might contribute to clumsiness or motor delays.

"Seizures, learning difficulties, and gastrointenstila problems, which co-occur frequently in both.

"These overlaps highlight why professionals emphasize thorough assessments -- treatments like cognitive behavioral therapy or sensory integration can help both, but tailoring to the root cause (injury vs. innate neurodivergence) is key. If this relates to a personal situation, chatting with a neurologist or specilist in neurodiversity could provide tailored guidance."

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The next thing I asked Grok is: "I'm curious how the child of a person with TBI and/or autism might emulate their parent's behavior. Even if the child has a neurotypical brain and no history of TBI?

Grok responded: "Absolutely, this is a fascinating (and important) aspect of child development--neurotypical kids can indeed pick up and emulate behaviors from a parent with TBI or autism through everday observation, without any neurological shift on their end. This happens via social learning theory, where children naturally imitate those closest to them to navigate their world, build attachment, or cope with family dynamics. It's not about "becoming" nurodivergent but adapting to the home enviornment, which can shape social habits, emotional responses, and even sensory preferences. Research and personal accounts show this emulation can be subtle or pronounced, often peaking in early childhood when modeling is most automatic. I'll break it down by condition, with examples, and touch on why it happens even in neurotypical brains. 

"Why and How Emulation Happens in Neurotypical Kids

Kids are wired for mimicry—it’s how they learn language, play, and social norms. In families with a neurodivergent parent, the child’s brain absorbs these patterns as “normal,” leading to:

•  Observational learning: Simply watching and copying to fit in or get needs met.

•  Emotional mirroring: Adopting coping styles to manage family stress, like withdrawal if a parent does it.

•  Environmental adaptation: Home routines or interactions become the blueprint, reinforced by reinforcement (e.g., praise for matching the parent’s style). This isn’t genetic or injury-based; it’s behavioral plasticity at work. Studies on family contexts highlight bidirectional influences, where parental traits subtly guide child behaviors over time.

Emulation in Children of Parents with Autism

Neurotypical kids might adopt “autistic-like” traits as survival strategies in a sensory-rich or socially unique home, leading to temporary awkwardness or later identity questions. Common examples include:

•  Social and communication habits: A child could mimic reduced eye contact, literal speech, or using silence as a “conversation” tool, making peer interactions feel off-kilter. One parent shared how their neurotypical daughter started over-exaggerating facial expressions (a masking technique) to bridge communication gaps with her autistic sibling, but this stemmed from observing family dynamics. In personal stories, adults recall questioning if they were autistic due to learned poor social cues, like avoiding small talk, only to realize it was emulation—not innate.

•  Sensory or routine preferences: Kids might develop aversions (e.g., hating certain colors or textures) by copying a parent’s reactions, or insist on rigid routines to match the family’s predictability needs. A Reddit thread full of reflections described neurotypical adults who avoided red clothing into adulthood because their autistic mom tied it to negative sensory overload, calling it a “learned phobia.”

•  Stimming or self-regulation: Subtle copying of fidgeting or rocking for comfort during stress, or scripting responses in social settings to echo the parent’s style.

Long-term, this can cause confusion (e.g., “Am I autistic too?”) or social challenges in neurotypical settings, but many “unlearn” it with exposure to diverse peers. One article on neurotypical kids in autistic families notes they often feel like the “odd one out,” leading to coping like situational mutism from mismatched interactions, but it builds empathy and adaptability.

Emulation in Children of Parents with TBI

Post-TBI, a parent’s changes—like impulsivity, emotional swings, or withdrawal—can ripple into the child’s behavior as they model survival tactics. This is especially evident in family functioning studies, where parental behaviors moderate child outcomes.

•  Emotional and behavioral coping: Kids might emulate avoidance or over-helping to “fix” family tension. For instance, school-age children (6-12) often become overly well-behaved or take on adult roles, believing it atones for the injury, per insights on coping with TBI-affected parents. Teens could mirror resentment through oppositional acts, like skipping family events, to match the parent’s frustration.

•  Social adjustments: Copying reduced social engagement, leading to withdrawal or poor peer bonds. Preschoolers (up to 5) might regress (e.g., tantrums or clinginess) by imitating the parent’s unseen struggles like concentration issues, fearing “contagion” or blame.

•  Routine and regulation: Adopting rigid structures or mood swings if the parent does, as family stress amplifies these patterns.

Over time, unaddressed emulation can lead to anxiety or altered life choices (e.g., staying local to “help”), but positive modeling from the other parent can buffer this.

Overlaps and Broader Insights for TBI + Autism

If a parent has both, emulation might blend—e.g., a child copying scripted responses (autism) alongside emotional outbursts (TBI). Personal anecdotes from X highlight this: One grandma fumed when her neurotypical granddaughter spent a summer “studying” and fully mimicking her autistic son’s traits, like using props, showing how immersive environments accelerate it. Another parent noted their autistic kids mimicking wrestling moves from dad, blending joy with learned physicality. Importantly, this isn’t harmful if recognized—many kids gain strengths like deep empathy or resilience.

If this hits close to home, resources like family therapy or books on neurodiverse parenting can help unpack it. Kids thrive with open talks about differences, turning emulation into understanding. "

Dad's legacy. My dream.

Not long ago, after my father had died, my brother and I were talking about him. 

He was like a tank, my brother said. 

He described the kind of man our Father was. For example, if Dad had worked as a service technician, and the issue he was servicing was a simple matter that took little time and even less effort to resolve, dad wouldn't charge the customer a fee. Never mind the cost of the vehicle and gasoline to drive to the customer's home. Or being paid for the time to drive there and back again.

My takeaway from that conversation with my brother is that, for my dad, money just wasn't something he cared about. He just wanted to be of service. He lived by the principle (at least in his work, he lived this way) to "do unto others as you would have them do unto you." 

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The following started as a reflection of my dad's influence on me. What I was trying to say in the paragraphs below is that I had some dreams and I didn't realize what they were. People in movies have dreams and somehow the dreams come true. I didn't know what happened to make the dreams come true. So I didn't know that I could make my dreams come true, and I didn't know how to identify what my dreams were.

"I loved my dad. He would sing variety songs from groups like The King Singers. He loved playing with words. His dad loved poetry, and his dad died in the 1960s. I wonder if quoting the poems his dad loved was his way of helping his kids love their grandpa who they'd never met?

My dad should have been an engineer. Probably an electrical engineer. I wanted to be like him, but I didn't really spend much time with him. I wanted to do projects with him, like when my sister built a solar panel for a school project and the two of them worked on it together. She was good at math, maybe because of his tutelage.

Instead of math, I excelled in language. I could have bonded with him over that, I suppose. But he didn't write poetry. He had terrible handwriting, which he blamed on the nuns who taught him to write -- they wouldn't allow him to write with his left hand, and he believed he was left handed. My oldest daughter is left handed.

Instead of writing and literature, my dad and I watched movies, Star Trek, and nature documentaries. It wasn't just me watching with him, of course. If I'd had the chance as an adult, I would have watched more shows with him and enjoyed the writing together with him.

Anyway, I ultimately studied linguistics - more of the philosophical side of that discipline. The school I attended was small, and there were no linguistics studies. The best fit for me at that school was philosophy. I believe I would have ended up in linguistics if I had gone to the state school. 

The difference was that, in the school I went to, the music department was basically non-existent when I started. Which meant I was blessed with the opportunity of studying music, where otherwise I would not have, since my musical talent is limited. On second thought, though, I may have studied musical composition and/or choral conducting if I had gone to the state school.

Either way, I would likely have ended up at MIT, either studying linguistics with Noam Chomsky, or studied music there and learned to enhance my skills with the help of technology.

Instead, I traveled to Belgium in 2002 to teach English as a foreign language, and then received a certification for that discipline from an organization in Prague.

I have had many opportunities to grow my music skills over the years. At least in piano playing, which is not my primary instrument, but I have enjoyed learning to express myself artistically on that instrument, to enhance my average vocal skills.

I guess I didn't know that it was okay to follow my dreams. I had learned about the music and linguistics at MIT. There was a vague sense that some people would have the opportunity to participate in those programs. It didn't occur to me that I could be one of those people who could have that opportunity.

On the other hand, the practical experience of living life, traveling to different linguistic cultures and performing music on an everyday, practical level --- that has its own unique value.

I wonder, too, what my family situation would have been like if I had pursued more education. I'm sure I would have found someone like-minded and pursued all of my dreams -- including having a family. That was the only dream I had been taught to have. "A woman's most important role is in the home" is what I was taught. Which didn't mean a woman's OnLy role is in the home --- but somehow that's how it has expressed itself in so many cases, including mine.

Most importantly -- my dad chose to have children. He loved each of us and taught us as well as he was able. I am grateful for my life, and for my dad's love, and for the things he did that are an example of loving with integrity, and with passion.

What I love about my dad is how very much he sacrificed to give all of his children their lives. He obeyed the commandments as well as he could, he loved his children and his wife, he persevered, he laughed, and he sang. Simple pleasures. And the most impactful, most lasting and enduring legacy of all: giving life to children and teaching us to be decent people.

 An Unexpected Day Off

Instead of going to work today, I stayed home, wondering what to do with the time that I had mentally prepared for being at work. I made a couple messes, trying to "clean up" some things. The phone rang and I was free to focus on the conversation with my friend, which meant the outcome of the conversation was good beyond what I expected. But immediately after hanging up, things went downhill again. After a good few hours, beginning to spiral into self-destruct mode, I made a quick exit to my car and went for a drive. 

Some things in the car needed to be dropped in various places. And then I saw a string of letters and a number that reminded me of something my dad had told me when I was in elementary school and was complaining about kids teasing me because I'm so short. He told me that sometimes big things come in small packages. Like dynamite. And he also said something -- maybe it was at a different time in my life -- about how some things take a long time to bloom, and when they do finally bloom, it's a sight to see.

Oh - the symbols I saw were on a license plate: C4AM. I had a good, heartly laugh when I saw that. I just needed to laugh, and thinking about my dad, his humor and the values he taught me, was just what I needed. A short time later, the license plate AM0 brought another smile to my face.

Arriving back home, I began to clean up the messes from earlier that day. Picking up a thread from a text message conversation, I laughed to myself some more.

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Me: What about lemonade? Refreshing and lighter than dairy.

Of course, you can always freeze the lemonade to a semi-solid. Like a slushie. When I was a missionary in Alabama, I had heat stroke and didn't know it. Thankfully, my companion had worked in an organization that took "troubled" kids out to the desert and sort of left them there (with supervision and basic supplies) for 10 days to give them a taste of what life really is.

So, since she was well-versed in guiding young people in dangerously hot situations, she knew immediately that the best course of action was for me to drink, slowly and carefully, a blue Gatorade slushie from the convenience store. It made me nauseous, which she told me as a sign that her diagnosis was correct.

I'm still not a fan of slushies. I do, however, enjoy a good lemonade from time to time.

I remember my companion's name. She was from Arizona, which makes sense, because where else in the U.S. do people leave their kids out in the desert? Anyway, I saw on Facebook at some point that she was married and using her husband's last name. It's the same as my married name, and it's a pretty common name. But .... I mean, if I could figure out the probability of one of my missionary companions having the same married name as me ... I wonder whether you even can calculate a probability like that. It seems there would be more variables than would be reasonable to calculate for.

And is that even the right way to talk about probability? I can't even convert easily from percentages to ... whatever you convert percentages to. So I probably have no business discussing things like probability.

JB: Yes, it would be pretty easy to calculate a probability like that.

Me: Lol. That's wonderful. I love that you know that.

Is it actually useful information, though?

I read a book that used this kind of information for some business application. I think the book was called Freakonomics, and I only remember a few details that were oddly useful. To someone. Though I'm not sure the usefulness applied to my life, especially not at that point since my days were filled with princess dress-up dance parties and trying to get the kids to stay in their rooms at nap time so I could recover a smidgeon of sanity before dinnertime.

Of course, now I can barely get the kids to come out of their rooms, and my sanity is suffering now from too many options of things to do with my free time, but still confned to my home since I can't get the kids to be seen with me in public.

Okay, that's not entirely true. But they do make the outings less enjoyable, since they complain when I start talking about things like Freakonomics with random strangers in the sporting goods store.

And I still don't know why that stuff is useful, but apparently it is because the authors of a book had a podcast and such. Realy, the infomraoin they came up with must be useful to someone.

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At this point, I put my phone on a shelf and walked myself to a neighbor's house, fearing lest I continue writing and begin to dwindle into potentially less interesting drivel.

When I returned from returning the neighbor's belongings, I finished cleaning up the mess I'd made in the morning. And with my car now nearly empty of junk, it was ready to admit more junk. I sent another text message, this time to a different friend:

Me: I think that, sometimes, we get an itch to do something, and it ends up being preparation for another thing. And sometimes I think that the Lord must have been, maybe giving me a slight nudge to do that thing, knowing I would be happy to move on to the next thing.

But I wonder ---- maybe I just make a choice, no nudges from anyone, and the Lord honors the choice I made by making me aware of an opportunity that I am now prepared for? 

SP- attached a heart emoji to my message

Me: Which is to say, I'm cleaning out my vehicle of all the recycling and donations that have been accumulating in it, and I'm looking for opportunities to use my now-nearly-empty, large vehicle.

Or, for real, I can take it to the mechanic now that they can work on the doors wihtout having used electronics and light bulbs falling on their heads.

SP: Beautiful thoughts.

Me: :)

SP: From my experience God honors my choices. He loves it when I use my agency. And if I am going to use it wrongly I will get a prompting letting me know before I go too ar down that path.

Gratitude. Adventure. Stillness

Gratitude:

I can read
My eyes are relatively healthy
I've been educated enough that I am able to read
Conscientious people in my life have led me to worthwhile books
The library near my home loans - for free - the books that inspire me
An app on my phone allows me to borrow books without even leaving my home.


My children listen to the stories I read out loud to them
They are anxious to hear more of the story
It is a very easy way to share time with the children.


The adventure story in today's reading reminded me of what adventure really is.
At first, it feels good to start on the adventure. It's exciting and you feel energized.
Before very long, the adventure becomes uncomfortable. Often, there's no other option except to continue until you arrive at a safe place. It's tedious, the mind becomes numb, the body is in pain.


And, when you arrive at your destination, there is more to do. The comfort you longed for at the "end" of your task may be delayed. You might even feel like you're lost, because the path doesn't look the way you envisioned it.

But -- if you are quiet and pay attention -- you may notice that the Lord is with you. And all the pains and monotony feels natural and good. Even though it's still uncomfortable.

My Mirror: Weeds and Grass

Life is a mirror. The things I experience in my environment are a reflection of the state of my soul.

The ongoing drought in the western U.S. has caused me some personal angst. All around my neighborhood, the weeds are flourishing while the grass lies low. And somewhat brown.

For a year or two, seeing the weeds in the grass bothered me greatly. I hated seeing the lawn sprinklers running, strengthening the weeds, while the grass made only a slight improvement.

There wasn't much for me to do about it. I don't own any of the property where the grass is growing. And even if I did, the idea that it would take years to rehabilitate the grass added another frustration factor. I felt so helpless to make any significant changes in this moment to my environment.

Finally, I had the idea to pray about the situation. I had an immediate sense of diminished stress over the issue. And as the months have passed, I have begun to appreciate the diversity of plants in the lawn, and the increased number of insects and birds present. Yes, weeds are pests. Bugs are undesirable. But it is life! And it is abundant!

But it is not acceptable to grow weeds in your lawn. And it's now my lawn.