I watched as dad set down gift after gift, into his pile of things he had no use for. How did I know he had no use for them? Well, comments such as, “I’ll never wear this” or “I don’t know what I’d use this for” would precede each addition to said pile. He wasn’t rude enough to hand them back to the gift bearer, but he certainly made sure that they knew they screwed up with that one. I had already given up buying him anything for the holidays, so watching our family and friend’s efforts was somewhat amusing. “You’d think they’d quit trying by now,” I thought to myself. I was also a bit embarrassed by his seeming lack of caring for the person’s feelings, though dad had always been a little different.

He’d only wear black pants and a button-down dress shirt, all the time. While barefoot dads wore shorts and a t-shirt at the beach, dad’s t-shirt remained an undergarment to his usual attire. He never took off his shoes either and no, he didn’t go swimming. I either didn’t care or had gotten used to his strict adherence to this dress code and it was never a requirement for his children. He was just uncomfortable wearing anything else. Although I’d often wonder if he ever got unbearably hot in the summer.

He sat in the same chair all the time too. It was a dining room chair at the head of the table that he’d cart into the living room if he wanted to watch the news or some old movie with his favorite character, John Wayne. We’d all be spread out on the soft couch and he’d be sitting up straight in his hard dining room chair in front of the television. We just got used to that too and it didn’t seem too odd after a while.

There were other idiosyncrasies too, but it wasn’t until two of my extended family members, one in the 1980’s and another in the 1990’s were both diagnosed with something called Asperger’s syndrome, that the way dad behaved started to make sense. Asperger’s Syndrome is a developmental disorder characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction and nonverbal communication, along with restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests. After the second diagnosis in the 1990’s, my family and I began to talk about the possibility of his having Asperger’s syndrome. After a few discussions about it over coffee and old family stories, we figured that had to be it. Time after time we all agreed it made the most sense. He was never formally diagnosed since the diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome did not exist until 1981 but it was more than likely he had this syndrome too being that he had many of the same symptoms as these family members with the disorder. Some of the things we discussed during these times were his lack of social skills, his career choice and habits.

Dad grew up in Brooklyn, NY with four brothers. Just like others with Asperger’s syndrome, he was never very social, but he had one best friend from the “old neighborhood” he kept his whole life. Even after moving his family into NJ in the late 60s, he’d give Pete a call about twice a year and vice versa. We all knew when Pete had called dad too. “Pete” he’d say excitedly, and they’d talk for at least ten or fifteen minutes about the families and the old days. Otherwise dad rarely spoke on the telephone or anywhere else for that matter. He’d say what needed to be said and that was that. I often wondered, since I never saw it, if he was ever very affectionate with my mother as he seemed almost uncomfortable even giving her a hug let alone giving any of us one.

Another example would be his career choice as an engineer. According to an article in Web MD, “Many people with Asperger's seem to be fascinated with technology, and a common career choice is engineering.” He also loved photography and chess, setting up his own darkroom in our basement and even joining a chess club.

It wasn't as if he didn't try though. He did, in fact, go with my little sister and I to the Girl Scouts "Father-Daughter Square Dance" in 1985. Yes, the other girl's dads were dressed in their country western attire while our's was dressed like the only city boy in the room but that didn't matter to us. We weren't really sure how he'd do but as the MC began directing us, dad do-si-doed, promenaded and bowed to his partner with the best of them. Who'd have known he was such a great dancer? We had a wonderful time that evening and had many other wonderful times with dad as the years went by and his unusual habits, his hobbies and his choice of career made him the truly unique person that we love.

Now, it wasn’t until around 2012 that I decided to take a chance and go ahead and give him a gift for Christmas. I decided not to take offense when he commented on it, although it would have to be something he might use. I looked around at the various trinkets, shaving kits, colognes and other usual holiday gifts until I finally found something he might actually like, the stationary aisle! I bought notebooks, pens and other miscellaneous office supplies and put them in a gift bag, not expecting, but hoping that for once he might be happy with my gift. When the big day (Christmas Eve) finally arrived, I watched him open my gift, smile and exclaim, “Oh good, I can use these!”

That was his last Christmas at home as, by the summer, Alzheimer’s disease took too much of a hold on him and he went into assisted living. I was glad that I finally got him the right gift before he had to go but I was also glad that I finally understood why he behaved the way he did all those years. Was it difficult growing up with a parent who was probably on the low end of the autism spectrum? I don’t know, because it was what I knew.

The Gift (3rd revision)

I watched as dad set down gift after gift, into his pile of things he had no use for. How did I know he had no use for them? Well, comments such as, “I’ll never wear this” or “I don’t know what I’d use this for” would precede each addition to said pile. He wasn’t rude enough to hand them back to the gift bearer, but he certainly made sure that they knew they screwed up with that one. I had already given up buying him anything for the holidays, so watching our family and friend’s efforts was somewhat amusing. “You’d think they’d quit trying by now,” I thought to myself. I was also a bit embarrassed by his seeming lack of caring for the person’s feelings, though dad had always been a little different.

He’d only wear black pants and a button-down dress shirt, all the time. While barefoot dads wore shorts and a t-shirt at the beach, dad’s t-shirt remained an undergarment to his usual attire. He never took off his shoes either and no, he didn’t go swimming. I either didn’t care or had gotten used to his strict adherence to this dress code and it was never a requirement for his children. He was just uncomfortable wearing anything else. Although I’d often wonder if he ever got unbearably hot in the summer.

He sat in the same chair all the time too. It was a dining room chair at the head of the table that he’d cart into the living room if he wanted to watch the news or some old movie with his favorite character, John Wayne. We’d all be spread out on the soft couch and he’d be sitting up straight in his hard dining room chair in front of the television. We just got used to that too and it didn’t seem too odd after a while.

There were other idiosyncrasies too, but it wasn’t until two of my extended family members, one in the 1980’s and another in the 1990’s were both diagnosed with something called Asperger’s syndrome, that the way dad behaved started to make sense. Asperger’s Syndrome is a developmental disorder characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction and nonverbal communication, along with restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests. After the second diagnosis in the 1990’s, my family and I began to talk about the possibility of his having Asperger’s syndrome. After a few discussions about it over coffee and old family stories, we figured that had to be it. Time after time we all agreed it made the most sense. He was never formally diagnosed since the diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome did not exist until 1981 but it was more than likely he had this syndrome too being that he had many of the same symptoms as these family members with the disorder. Some of the things we discussed during these times were his lack of social skills, his career choice and habits.

Dad grew up in Brooklyn, NY with four brothers. Just like others with Asperger’s syndrome, he was never very social, but he had one best friend from the “old neighborhood” he kept his whole life. Even after moving his family into NJ in the late 60s, he’d give Pete a call about twice a year and vice versa. We all knew when Pete had called dad too. “Pete” he’d say excitedly, and they’d talk for at least ten or fifteen minutes about the families and the old days. Otherwise dad rarely spoke on the telephone or anywhere else for that matter. He’d say what needed to be said and that was that. I often wondered, since I never saw it, if he was ever very affectionate with my mother as he seemed almost uncomfortable even giving her a hug let alone giving any of us one.

Another example would be his career choice as an engineer. According to Web MD, those with Asperger’s tend to be drawn to technology, and engineering is a typical field they pursue. He also loved photography and chess, setting up his own darkroom in our basement and even joining a chess club.

It wasn't as if he didn't try though. He did, in fact, go with my little sister and I to the Girl Scouts "Father-Daughter Square Dance" in 1985. Yes, the other girl's dads were dressed in their country western attire while our's was dressed like the only city boy in the room but that didn't matter to us. We weren't really sure how he'd do but as the MC began directing us, dad do-si-doed, promenaded and bowed to his partner with the best of them. Who'd have known he was such a great dancer? We had a wonderful time that evening and had many other wonderful times with dad as the years went by and his unusual habits, his hobbies and his choice of career made him the truly unique person that we love.

Now, it wasn’t until around 2012 that I decided to take a chance and go ahead and give him a gift for Christmas. I decided not to take offense when he commented on it, although it would have to be something he might use. I looked around at the various trinkets, shaving kits, colognes and other usual holiday gifts until I finally found something he might actually like, the stationary aisle! I bought notebooks, pens and other miscellaneous office supplies and put them in a gift bag, not expecting, but hoping that for once he might be happy with my gift. When the big day (Christmas Eve) finally arrived, I watched him open my gift, smile and exclaim, “Oh good, I can use these!” Nobody could argue that he didn’t like my gift after that? I was even a bit proud of myself that time.

That was his last Christmas at home as, by the summer, Alzheimer’s disease took too much of a hold on him and he went into assisted living. I was glad that I finally got him the right gift before he had to go but I was also glad that I finally understood why he behaved the way he did all those years. Was it difficult growing up with a parent who was probably on the low end of the autism spectrum? I believe it was, but despite that, I can’t imagine wanting anyone to take his place. He was the dad I knew and loved, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing about him.

Joan Quigley-Kearney

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