My Brother, the Unexpected Role Model and Motivation in My Life

When I was 2, my baby brother was born into our family.  We lived at the time out on a farm, in the boondocks.   My parents in no way suspected that anything was wrong with their second born child, until they realized that Mark, my brother, wasn’t as interested in playing with me, as he was in watching infomercials and the same cartoons over and over, then repeating what he could in mumbled nonsense. (For lack of a better explanation) 

By the time Mark got to the average age that you would expect your child to begin saying his first words, Mark would only mumble 1-800 numbers off commercials he had memorized.  His memory was astonishing, and by the time he was 3, he began reading ads out of magazines, since he wasn’t too interested in normal childhood books. 

Eventually, my parents decided that there must be something wrong, so they took him to the Waismann Center in Madison Wisconsin.  There they did numerous tests that concluded that Mark did in fact have autism, but he was on the lower end of the spectrum.  My parents were astounded, since in 1989 they didn’t know much about autism, and what it meant for the future. 

I remember wondering why my brother didn’t want to play with me, like I had so hoped he would. Instead he liked his TV, music, and video games.  One time he actually snuck out of the house and we found him at the neighbors playing their video games.  He really didn’t comprehend the concept of right or wrong, and what “no” meant.  It was very trying on our whole family. 

When I was 5, my mom had another baby boy, who we prayed wouldn’t have the same problems that Mark did.  Michael ended up being a very athletic, outgoing child, and we became close.  I used to fantasize, though, that Mark really wasn’t autistic and that when no one else was around, he would only talk to me.  See, because normally Mark’s “talking” consisted of moans and flapping his hands.