The Unclad Soul

Teaching us to fish My name is George André Morrison. I work at the Dallas Public Library and have been with the City of Dallas for 14 years. I am also a high-functioning autistic person. I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in 1990. I am writing this open letter on my friend Tim Moody's blog to bring attention to an issue that is dear to my heart. I believe it is important to other people as well. The reason I have been a success in both school and work was that my parents made many sacrifices to help me and my normal sister. I am proud to have parents like them and am now taking care of them in their old age. Some people are not as fortunate. On March 6, 2012, a 22 year old autistic man, George Hodgins, was murdered in Sunnyvale, California. The perpetrator was his mother, who then killed herself. From what investigators can determine, the mother despaired that she could not get resources to help her son and believed he was better off dead. The reason ...

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...

I attended Ingrid’s 4th & 5th grade Valentine's Dance last night at Larry G. Smith Elementary. She had been talking about this for weeks and wanted to know if she could go. Of course she could, I said. And she was so excited. But then I asked if parents were going and if I could go, too. She said she wasn’t sure about that and would have to get back to me. I asked if she would be embarrassed if I went with her and she sort of shyly grinned and I so I promised I wouldn’t get out on the dance floor in front of all of her friends and do the Glide, or the Fist Pump, or the Shuffle, or that thing kids today call cwalking. She giggled and said, “Oh Poppy.” Anyway, I bought our tickets and decided to go as a volunteer. I kept telling her she needed to pick out an outfit for the dance but she insisted that she was just going to wear her skinny jeans and “a cute top.” Hmmm, I thought. Okay. So we went to the mall and picked out a cute top which she didn’t end up wearing a...

I was at Starbucks the other day to settle into a vanilla latte and do a little catching up on my reading. I’m trying to finish Tana French’s “The Likeness.” Which by the way is a fantastic novel. I was struck by how nearly everyone in the room was on their phone. Even couples or groups of people sitting together; they were all texting, or doing some kind of data or app stuff. No one was talking. Except one lone woman who was on her phone going on and on to an invisible person on the other end having some insipid discussion about flooring. Apparently she was remodeling her extravagant kitchen and couldn’t decide on a pattern or color or whatever. I’m not judging. I do it too. Check my email. Send texts. Search websites. Download tunes. We are all constantly on our phones. No one though really talks to anyone anymore. Our society is sick with inattention, blather, bullshit, indifference, blocked emotions, blank stares, or being lost in some smart phone fog. We really...

There is a new television series on FOX that aired this week called “Touch.” It is about a broken man whose wife died in one of the towers on 911 and about their 11-year old son who is autistic. The boy has never spoken a word and lives in a world of numbers he writes incessantly in one notebook after another. He is brilliant and loving but lives isolated inside his mind. His father tries desperately to connect with him. The first episode reveals that the boy possesses remarkable gifts and through a series of related events is able to influence the destinies of others. In his own limited way he wants so much to include his father in his silent life and make him a partner in his gifts. His father’s love and determination pays off and allows him to understand these gifts and eventually find a way to communicate with him. I totally bought into the show and to the heroic attempts of this father to connect with his son. Our children are our greatest personal resources. They a...

“To be in your children's memories tomorrow, You have to be in their lives today.” ~ Barbara Johnson, Writer/Literary Critic/Professor