Bill Braznell
On Easter, you'll find him peering into storm drains looking for those gaudy plastic eggs filled with quarters and grotesque marshmallow rabbits. He checks all the pockets of his birthday pants for dollar bills. He inhales Cocoa Puffs like oxygen and drinks orange soda through a straw. He draws pictures of me and my family on his calendar to mark the days he knows he will see us. This is not my younger cousin or nephew, he is my 37 year old Uncle Billy.
Billy was born mentally handicapped. He suffers from severe autism and is completely deaf. From these conditions stem a plethora of neurological disorders, some of which can be tamed by medication. He essentially cannot communicate except for rudimentary sign language that he has learned through years of instruction. Billy is incapable of independent living and has required constant professional supervision his entire life.
I often wonder why this happened to Billy. Why was he born with this condition that prohibits him from controlling his mind and body? Why must he live in a state that ignorant people laugh and joke about? This man should be in the prime of this life- enjoying a wife, raising of children, and developing a successful career. Instead, he is held captive by a brain that doesn't allow him to learn and prosper in the world around him.
Looking at Billy's childlike tendencies and his undeveloped intelligence, it is easy to conclude that he is oblivious to the world around him. According to society's standards, it is indisputable that Billy is simple minded. After all, his IQ has been tested at the second grade level. But through he years, I have noticed that some of Billy's behaviors indicate that there is more going on inside his head than we might assume. For example, several years ago my family realized that Billy sorts the money in his wallet according to serial number. In addition, he is extremely habitual. He is always aware of the time, the date, and what is supposed to be happening.
As a child, I rarely ever questioned Uncle Billy's condition. That was simply the way he was, and he was not going to change. But now as I mature and begin to test my own abilities in life, I am starting to wonder if Uncle Billy does not have more capability and understanding than we believe. Autism is truly one of the great mysteries of modern medicine. This puzzle is an incessant plague in the lives of me and my family. I would like to end the wondering because each time I watch my uncle blow out his birthday candles, I know another year has passed, and the questions still remain unanswered. Sometimes, I almost feel that the sheepish grin he occasionally dons is in mockery of all of us surrounding him. Perhaps we are the ones who truly don't understand.
By Lindsay Hedrick
October 1997
