Author: DavidRoyko

For years, we tried to do videocalls with Ben, but there had always been issues with signal strength and other technical hurdles. The bigger hurdle was probably Mom and Dad not being hip to the videocall trip – we didn’t

A few folks have mentioned that they were trying to get to this piece on my (glitch-prone) website, to no avail (and it’s possible the Chgo Trib has or will be moving it from their free archive to their for-pay

EESINNUH By David Royko ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ Republished here at the request of a Facebook friend, Eesinnuh was the first piece I wrote about Ben and our family’s struggles with severe autism. He was eight years old. Originally written in February

Kinda like “Six Characters in Search of an Author,” this post was heading toward Twelve Pictures in Search of a Theme. After I came up blank trying to find something to tie them all together, I realized, duh, BEN’s all

Years ago, I reviewed a book (excellent, BTW) by the late Clara Park, about her autistic daughter Jessy (Exiting Nirvana), and one of the most powerful take-aways for me was the idea that most of the wonderful people that work

“What if people started having parties to celebrate 9/11? That’s pretty much how I feel on World Autism Day.” ~Anonymous   Courtesy of a Facebook friend and fellow autism parent who would rather I not use her name (her post

A couple weeks ago, I saw my dentist for a routine cleaning and check-up. Drove over to his office, x-rayed , scraped ‘n’ scrubbed, pearly off-whites looked healthy enough, no drilling, no filling, in and out in a half hour.

“He’s retarded.” Does that make you flinch? Do you hate that word? Its banishment by the Cultural-Awareness-and-Sensitivity Squad (and, officially, Obama in 2010) is fine with me. Colloquial use, especially as an insult, is abhorrent and causes pain. Being father

Hey kids! Want to make your parents feel old? Try turning 25. That’ll do it. The “kids” are half-way to a Half-Century! Wow. My nephew Steve said, “That is the most depressing way of describing 25 (maybe life’s best age?)

One way we know Ben likes — REALLY likes — the music we’re playing in the car is, if he thinks we’re about to change it, he’ll lean forward and gently grab my elbow until I move my arm back