“One perfect day” is how many families living in a world of children with special needs describe Surfers Healing.
As a member of this world, I would agree wholeheartedly. It’s impossible not to be reflective and emotional on this day. It’s become an annual tradition for many families, including mine.
It’s a time when there’s no judgment from others unaware of the course most families are charting with kiddos experiencing unique difficulties and facing challenges. No concerns about experiences that do not go according to plan. There’s acceptance, respect, understanding and tolerance everywhere.
This year marked the second Surfers Healing experience for our son Carson, 7. It was different this year than last and that’s fitting because nothing’s predictable with our son.
Due to some kicked up surf due to the storm off the coast, he was more apprehensive than usual about the ocean. Unlike his big brother, he’s never one to rush into the ocean and usually requires my reassuring hand, but this day he was even more apprehensive than normal.
Every day is different with Carson. I could tell something was not right in his mind about the ocean on this particular day. Maybe it was the different surfer than last year or the larger waves, but he was clearly not at peace about the water. When asked later, he said he had fun, but while in the water he seemed to want it to be over before it started. My guess is he was dealing with some sensory overload from the crashing waves.
That’s okay because it’s consistent with our life with Carson right now. If anything, I regret my feelings of disappointment immediately after he came out of the water. I wanted him to stand up (with the help of his surfer friend) and get some great rides like he did last year. That didn’t happen this year, but he did manage to get to his knees. He didn’t really smile or giggle like last year. He didn’t appear to be enjoying himself on any of his three rides. I was bummed initially. I wanted more for him.
Later Pam and I were talking about how I shouldn’t feel that way. She reminded me about the dangers of setting expectations for Carson and how he was clearly just fine with how the day went as we watched him play in the sand with some new friends. It was confirmed later she was right because he was incredibly proud to show his medal and wear his shirt to everyone.
The day was different for me as well. Due to a family emergency the morning of the event, our newspaper’s photographer was unable to cover the event for us. Therefore, I worked the event and stood much of the day in knee-deep water looking for images to capture, and it gave me an incredibly different perspective on the event.
No matter how many doctor’s appointments and days filled with bizarre and unexplained behavior, I have always tried to remember we are lucky. Life is not easy, but I know how fortunate we are because so many special needs families face struggles beyond those we face daily. Their life is much more complicated and as difficult as that may be to accept on challenging days, it was confirmed over and over again on Wednesday as I observed so much more than I ever had before.
Last year I was just a father to my little surfer taking in the event for the first time in a non-professional way. This year, by virtue of work responsibilities, I was forced to open my eyes to a greater perspective.
About half of the kids who were fortunate enough to be picked in the Surfers Healing lottery wanted nothing to do with the ocean on this day. In some cases, they had to be carried in against their wishes while having a tantrum and in some cases physically lashing out against the surfers and volunteers. In many cases, there were no visible reactions from the experience. Indeed, the only way to find joy was to turn to the beach to see the parents smiling and laughing and in some cases with their hands over their mouths and hearts in awe of what their child was accomplishing.
While I was taking pictures Wednesday, I literally bumped into Surfers Healing co-founder Izzy Paskowitz, who likes to call Surfers Healing “extreme special education.” I thanked him for coming up with this concept while his autistic son was young and told him I loved that expression he uses because it’s so true. We were then interrupted and he went on his way. I figured that was that.
Later, after Carson’s turn in the water, we ran into Izzy again. Carson and Izzy had a brief interaction I will never forget. Carson started pointing to Izzy’s wetsuit and ran his fingers along the letters that made “Surfers Healing” on his chest. Out of habit, I told Izzy Carson was non-verbal. I always feel like I need to make that clear so people don’t think he’s being rude when he doesn’t answer with words. Izzy, familiar with our world, responded, pointing to Carson’s chest, “he’s told me everything I need to know already. Surfers Healing is in his heart, too.”
After Izzy had talked with him a bit, we asked for a photo and he brought Carson in close. As he’s prone to do, Carson smiled awkwardly while Izzy pulled his head in close to his so they were cheek to cheek. It’s a lifetime memory for us, as the smiles behind the camera surely indicated.
