Editor's Note: Justice Was Not Served

Editor's Note:

I ranted about this story on Facebook this morning, which probably isn't the best place for such a lengthy post. I am reposting with some edits for The Cooper Chronicles.

Grand Jury Rejects Criminal Charges in the Death of Robert Saylor, Man with Down syndrome

This story scares me so much. I honestly don't think the cops thought they were doing anything that would result in killing a man over a movie ticket. But, we have a long way to go with community outreach and education so that confrontations over movie tickets (and other equally pointless, stupid and ultimately harmless actions) don't occur to begin with. To me, this is a story of intolerance, abuse of power and lack of perspective. Had the movie theatre employees had some compassion, had the off duty police officers been trained with a little more sensitivity (or used the training they were given. I don't know what kind of training they receive, if any, on dealing with people with intellectual disabilities), had the bystanders in the theatre had a little backbone, this whole thing could have been avoided. Actually, had any of these people had ANY of these traits! Ultimately, who cares if a man who clearly has an intellectual disability watches the movie twice but only pays once?  Do I think he should be allowed to break all the rules just because he has Down syndrome? Absolutely not. But to allow this situation (over what? $15 max?) to escalate to the point of needing to be restrained IS the fault of the professionals. Whether serving in an official law enforcement capacity or not, they were the professionals and the authorities in the room. Ultimately, they are responsible for the proper use of that authority. While I don't necessarily feel these officers should spend the rest of their lives in prison, they should at least be held responsible for being terrible at their job. I know cops aren't social workers but there has to be training in de-escalation and there should be some minimum standard of proper perspective when dealing with situations like this. The police are the police for all of us, even those who may not understand the full ramifications of their actions and may not possess the capacity to be held equally responsible for the end result of such a confrontation.

Who I Am

Who I Am…?

I am just like you.

Just like you, I am not the sum of what I can’t do.   Can you imagine if you were defined by all the things you couldn’t do?   Would it go like this?  “Meet, Jane.  She’s not a rocket scientist.  She’ll never go to the moon.  She can’t walk on a tightrope.  She’s not a Doctor or Lawyer.  She’s just a caring person who loves and cries and laughs and breaths.  Who hugs and plays and makes your heartache.”   Who am I?  I am just like you.  I am Cooper Charles Stillman.  I am the joy you didn’t know you needed.  I am a philosopher of simplicity.  I live in the moment.  I know when you’re sad.  I make my parents crazy.  I am learning.  I am the sum of my soul.

 

Below is a link to the International Down syndrome Coalition's new video for World Down syndrome Day (Thursday, March 21).  The theme is "Who I am."  I am one of the producers of this video.  By that I mean, I gave a little bit of money and they put my name on the list.  But I'm very proud to support this project nonetheless.  Please check it out and share it and this post.

http://www.theidsc.org/2013/03/idsc-2013-world-down-syndrome-day-video.html

Trickster Part I

You know what a hipster is, right?  We might have already been through this  but just in case...According to my Momma hipsters are people who shop at Urban Outfitters and pay way too much money to look like they spent no money at all, they make their own beer and all the guys have facial hair like some weird throw back to a couple of centuries ago.  Also, she says that men should definitely not wear skinny jeans.  I am not a hipster (I can hear my mom say "Thank God" in the background.  I think she's just mad that grunge is dead.)  I am a trickster.  Unlike hipsters, I bring joy and merriment where ever I go. Below is part one of my greatest tricks :

Bottles make great puddles 

I start by choosing a time when Momma is obviously very busy and I begin to complain wildly about how hungry I am.  Whining incessantly is my typical approach to this.  If I am ignored for too long though, I will resort to full out tears.  Works every time.  Momma rushes around in the kitchen making a bottle while I encourage her to go even faster from the living room.  It's fun to see how fast she can go!  Upon her return, she puts me in my  pack n play, on my little Michigan State Pillow Pet, and hands me my bottle.  At this point, I often grunt and thrash for the full, "I'm starving" effect.  This part is critical, I eat ravenously until Momma is satisfied that I have solid control over the bottle and she walks away.  Now, if I'm actually a little hungry I might eat some but this is not the point of the trick.  I learned that the hard way.  The more you eat, the less funny the trick.  In this case, less is not more.  I wait a couple of minutes until I know that her attention is fully refocused on her activity and then I spring into action.  Silence is key to this trick because if she hears me talking, she knows I'm not eating.  So, I quietly sit up, turn my bottle upside down, give it a few shakes and watch the flow!  There's nothing like it.  I watch it run in small streams down my legs, onto the pack n play and converge into the most amazing formula puddles you have ever seen.  It makes Momma so happy that for the next few days she keeps me on her lap while I eat.  Tricks on her!  I love sitting on her lap to eat.  It's my favorite eating place and this trick works like a charm.

Chew, Chew, Spit (Or, How Much Money Can I Waste?)

As many of you know, I have been in an outpatient feeding therapy program.  I hate it there.  I don't even know why I have to go.  I eat just fine.  I love my bottles.  Apparently they aren't age appropriate.  Momma also says that beer and wine (love!) aren't age appropriate either.  I don't get it.  So, I was going to this place two times a week and it was the terrible.  They sat me in a chair and made me play with food.  All kinds of food: crumbs, pudding (disgusting! I don't do purees or anything slimy.  That's just gross.), Cheetos, and sprinkles.  They kept trying to get me to bite down on this Cheeto wrapped in gauze.  I mean, would you let some strange person wearing purple gloves shove her hands, with a gauze wrapped Cheeto, into your mouth?  I'm guessing no.  So we would fight.  There were times when I would just give up and bite the damn Cheeto because I wanted it over.   But that was never enough for these people.  They always wanted me to do it again!  Not cool.  "I did what you asked, now knock it off."  For two months, twice a week, we went to this place  and then almost every day at home (although, Momma didn't wear those creepy purple gloves) we went through the same exercises.  It was dreadful.  But I found a way to make them stop.  Fighting wasn't working so I had to come up with another strategy.  This was my plan:  I do everything they want me to do except actually eat that stuff.  I pick it up, put it in my mouth and chew the heck out of it.  This brings all the wild cheering and the videos on facebook.  But here's the trick, I spit it out.  What I found was that after eight weeks of this, Momma said, "Enough.  No more feeding therapy."  I overheard long conversations about wasting money to pay to play with food, the rapid increase of power struggles not just around the food, how I have all the steps for eating but I haven't been able to organize them into actually swallowing food and how stupid (her word, NOT mine.) she was for scheduling this in the middle of winter.  And then one day we quit.  My trick worked!  It seems as though the chewing was all she needed to see.   So now I chew my food.  Sometimes for old times sake, I play this game where I pretend like I don't want to anymore or like I've never done it before.  That always gets a laugh.  And it only cost Momma $600!

Stay tuned for Trickster Part II.  Maybe I'll do it in the form of "Top 5 Things Never To Say About ___________."  Those seem to be all the rage these days.  

It's My Birthday...Soon

Dear Readers,

I have been told that my first birthday is on Sunday.  I thought this was a good time to reflect on the first year of my life.  More importantly, I've been told by Momma that I need to seriously thank a lot of people.  She says that without you, we would never have made it through my first year.  I find this to be a little dramatic...I guess I know where I get it from.

Thank you to everyone who has babysat me, bought me presents, smiled at me, gushed over me, come to our rescue, been incredibly flexible with Momma, laughed with us, cried with us, encouraged me to keep working hard toward my goals and commented on my million photos and videos on Facebook...there have been a lot....sorry about that...I have no control over her.  She can't seem to help herself.

My first year has been a wild one.  It's been very happy and very sad.  But despite it all, you have stuck with us and kept Momma, Daddy and me going.  Not only have you kept us going but you have also kept us laughing.

Momma created a video to share with you all.  I think it's a little long but what can you do about a super proud Momma? She says she hopes you enjoy it.  You'll have to copy and paste.  The video wouldn't load and I got tired of waiting...give me a break, I'm only one year old :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlyaz-bYm2E&feature=plcp

Letter from the Battlefront

I am a fighter.  A hero you might say.  Every day I do battle with the most sneaky, hideous, evil monster known to man.  Sometimes, we fight several times a day.  If it weren't for me keeping him at bay, you would all be in peril.  He is, THE SLEEP MONSTER!! When he sneaks up on me, I am generally able to keep him back but he seems to gain strength as the day progresses.   No battles are as terrible as the ones at night.

My tactics include, but are not limited to (wouldn't want to give away all my secrets) screaming, biting (this will be more effective when I have teeth) hair pulling, hitting and sometimes giggling...just to throw him off.

He may be winning some of the battles but I feel like I'm winning the war...yawn....gotta' go.....stretch.....I can feel another attack coming....pull Momma's hair....yes, definitely!  Everyone back!  Let me handle...this....hit the Momma.......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....snort......I'll get you next time Sleep Monster!  You haven't seen the last of Cooper Charles Stillman the Third....minus 2.  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day.  What is Memorial Day, you ask?  It is a day to remember my Grandpa.  Oh, wait.  Sorry.  Mom says it's not just about him (could have told me that sooner) but it's really about honoring those who have died in war.  My Grandpa Rhines didn't die in a war but he served in the infantry in Vietnam.  I never got to meet him because he died when my Momma was just 22 and I didn't come along until she was really old.  She told me a lot about him today.  So in honor of Memorial Day, I will share what she told me.

My Grandpa was funny.
My Grandpa was smart.
My Grandpa could cook.
My Grandpa wished he could play the guitar.
My Grandpa was the life of the party.
My Grandpa was proud.
My Grandpa was a proud liberal.
My Grandpa liked Peter, Paul & Mary.
My Grandpa loved my Momma.

I had to ask why, if Memorial Day is about honoring those who died in a war, were we remembering Grandpa who died twenty three years after he came back?  I didn't understand.  Momma told me that in many ways, Grandpa Rhines didn't really come back from Vietnam.  He saw a lot of terrible things that haunted him for the rest of his life.  Can you imagine?  Seeing things that are so bad that you never forget them?  And that because of that, he had a hard time adjusting to everyday life.  She said he felt guilty all of the time and that Memorial Day was a really big deal to him.  She said he had undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  (I had to have Momma write that down...those are really big words for a nine month old!)  Apparently, back when soldiers were coming home from Vietnam, they didn't have a name for it and they didn't do anything to help the soldiers who had it.  So, Grandpa did what he could to help himself and his prescription was PBR.  I don't know what that is but I hear that if you take enough of it for too long, it turns out to be really bad for you and that's why I never got to meet him.

There is so much that I don't understand about all that but the biggest is why do we go to war?  Why don't we take care of people who come back?  Momma says that there wasn't even a parade for the veterans of the Vietnam War when it ended.   That doesn't seem right.   But I know that my Momma is very proud of him.  She told me that a lot of times today.  And you can tell by the way she talks about him all the time.  I can't tell if it's because she talks about him all the time or if maybe I knew him before I was born because I feel like I know him.   That's pretty cool!

So I think I have it figured out.  We honor my Grandpa Rhines on Memorial Day because the war caused my Grandpa to be sick and even though he didn't die in that country, during that war, it was that war that got him 23 years later.  OK.  I overheard Momma say that :)  But it sounds about right to me.

Dear Grandpa Rhines:  I'm sorry that you had to go to Vietnam.  Thank you for fighting.  I'm sorry that you weren't honored well when you came home and that your sickness was ignored.  You deserved better.  I will honor you every chance I get...along with my other military Grandpa's and my military Grandma.  Happy Memorial Day.

I Kissed a Girl

Yesterday was my mom's birthday.  She took the day off, not to celebrate but to unpack boxes.  What?!?  I thought birthday's were special days where everyone brings you presents and sings you a song and you get to do whatever you want and everyone has to be extra nice to you.  I think there's cake in there somewhere too...because it's your special day.  At least that's what I'm planning on for my birthday.

The day started out great.  A nice slow morning.  I took a little nap so that I would be all rested for the day's festivities.  Then my new therapist came to work with me.  She's the best!  Right away I was happy to see her and felt so comfortable with her.  I'm pretty sure that I smiled and chuckled through the whole thing.  I could tell that Momma was happy too.  She wasn't a big fan of the last therapists I had.  She said they were too negative and made her feel bad about everything.  I thought they were alright but I was never very excited to play with them when they came over.  I think Ms. Kristin and I are going to be friends.  I'll keep you posted.

Then Aunt Betsy and Lilly (she's kind of my girlfriend.  She's older...in Kindergarten!) came over to our new apartment.  There was a lot of high pitch girly talk about how great the new apartment is and the couch looks so good blah, blah, blah....but the couch really does look nice.  Aunt Betsy is one of my favorite people.  Momma says that she's family even though we aren't related by blood.  Momma told me, "We're related by childhood friendship and all the good and bad that life has thrown at us.  Aunt Betsy is my best friend and sister."  I'm not sure I get it but I know that she's Lilly's Momma and I really like Lilly.  I even kissed her at the Olive Garden...but that's later in the story.  I'm getting ahead of myself.

So we went to the Olive Garden for lunch to celebrate Momma's birthday.  I was playing it cool, even flirting with the waitress a little to make Lilly jealous.  I think it worked because before too long, there I was sitting on Lilly's lap.  She's so nice to me and talks to me like I'm just a person.  She doesn't see me as different from any other kid or that I'm a baby.   She's the best.   All of a sudden I had this overwhelming desire to smooch her!  So I did!  I grabbed her face with both hands and laid one on her.  She'll never be the same.

Momma says I'm sounding too much like Daddy and I need to tone it down.

When we came back to our new apartment after lunch, Momma thought it was time to start unpacking.  We've already gone over this part...you shouldn't do tedious work on your birthday.  So I decided that the only way I was going to get her to just sit and relax was to throw up all afternoon.  It worked!  We sat and cuddled on the couch for the rest of the afternoon.  Every time she put me down, I would cry.  She would pick me up.  I would throw up a little more.  We rocked.  She'd put me down...you get the idea.  Eventually, she just gave up and we downloaded the first season on Falling Skies.  Aliens.  Yeah, I think I was born to a sci-fi nerd.  It's ok though.  We had a great day!

If you're wondering, this is the look I gave to Lilly just before I kissed her:

Do you think you could resist me?