Imagining Arlie

I'm not a genealogy buff, but occasionally we wind up with a class project that sends me poking into the past and I find it very interesting.  Here's something that happened 91 years ago today, on July 11, 1922.

From the Camden Chronicle:

Arlie Gordon Chester of Eva was drowned while bathing at Oatsvall Landing on the Tennessee River about 1 o'clock Saturday afternoon.  The young man had been working in the vicinity of the landing and had gone to the river to take a gasoline boat home. Hubbs Barker, Eulis Walker and some other boys were in bathing, and young Chester told that he wanted to go in. As he could not swim, we understand the other boys told him not to do so, but he did and soon got into deep water. One of the boys endeavored to save him, but as he was without clothing he could not hold him and was forced to break loose from him to save himself. Young Chester was the son of P.C. and Emma Chester and a nephew of Ben Holland of Eva. He was past 21 years of age and was a quiet, nice boy, unassuming and industrious. His body was recovered at 9 a.m. Sunday morning and was given burial at Chalk Hill Sunday afternoon.

Pop Chester on the left, Arlie in the middle

Arlie was my grandfather's brother.  Nobody's around today who knew him, but we know from family lore that he had a learning disability of some kind.  There are lots of ways to be disabled, but since a good chunk of autism is genetic, maybe he was on the autism spectrum.

They wouldn't have called it that, of course.  The word "autism" wasn't to be used in it's modern sense for another 16 years after Arlie's death, when Hans Asperger described his work in Vienna.  More likely, they would have just called him "tetched".


Whatever Arlie's condition was, I wonder what life was like for him back then.  I read somewhere that rural communities can accommodate autistic people better than urban ones in some ways.  It can be quiet, have little traffic, extended families tend to live together or nearby, and everybody knows one another, at least in passing.

conked out at 3:00 p.m.

Having just returned from a trip to visit my folks in rural Tennessee, I can believe it.  Both our boys found great joy in roaming up and down the creek, skipping stones, and catching fireflies, crawdads, frogs, and moths.  We went on some seriously good walkabouts and we all slept really well, which is rare for us.

critter catcher

Have a safe and happy summer!

And if you're a Utah family affected by autism, come to the Autism Community Summer Social and tell your public officials you'd like autism to be covered by insurance.  It's TODAY!

Daniel Boone was a man...

almost home

To pick up where I left off...my sister and I had a nice drive to our home town.  We get along well, now that we're adults.  She's pretty awesome, actually, and always has been.  I'm just ready to appreciate it now.

My folks live outside of a small town by about 4 miles.  We wind through the familiar roads and turn into the woods.  It's about a quarter mile of gravel to my folks' place.  We arrive near midnight local time.

My folks greet us with open arms.  They are so happy to see us.  Ben is trying to crawl into my clothes.  He's tired and overwrought.  On the bright side, he doesn't seem to notice that his pinky is ballooning up from the accident on the plane.  Sensory processing disorder does have some benefits.

We begin what will be the standard for the next few nights.  I get Ben ready for bed, read to him, sing, bounce him, and eventually just hold him until he falls asleep on top of me.  It takes about an hour, even with the melatonin. I'm tired, but can't fall asleep myself, so I slip on earbuds and listen to a podcast until I do. He wakes up a couple of times during the night, but I get him back to sleep.

We get up at something like 4:00 and have some breakfast, then head to the basement to explore.  There's a treadmill and wagon and lots of old toys.  My mom never throws anything away and Bubba really likes playing with my old toy guns -- they don't make'em like that anymore.

crawdad huntin'

We spend our days going walkabout on the farm and playing in the creek.  This is the place we moved to when I was five.  My first memory of it was my dad talking to the man he would buy it from while they stood looking at the creek.  I laid down on my belly and started drinking straight from the stream.  I got in a few good slurps before Dad grabbed me and said, "What are you doing?!"  I thought it was pretty obvious what I was doing, but I said, "I'm being Daniel Boone."  Dad explained to me that cows pooped in the creek right upstream and drinking it was not such a good idea.

These days I think more about fertilizer, pesticides, herbicides, and all that stuff.  We know autism has both genetic and environmental factors.  What if it's the garbage in our food?  I buy some organic food, but not all.  What if I had gone all the way organic?  Maybe our lives would be different now.

It doesn't help my mood as I write this that I just watched The Corporation on Netflix.  The part about bovine growth hormone in milk and Fox's coverage was infuriating.  I grew up with heroic reporters breaking Watergate and bringing down a corrupt president.  Could that happen today?

Anyway, both boys have a very good time, and Auntie plays with us, helping Bubba catch crawdads.  He's having a blast.  A neighbor comes by and gives him a ride on an ATV and lets him hold a tricked out .22 rifle.  He comes back with a grin so wide it looks like the top of his head will fall off.

you could hear this for miles.

This was a great place to grow up.  I spent every summer day roaming up and down the creek, exploring and pretending.  I had a BB gun and knew how to use it.  Mom would ring a big dinner bell when she wanted me to come home.  I'd love for my older son to experience that kind of freedom.  I admire the free-range kids mom, but am not quite there yet.  I've lived in urban environments for almost 30 years, but don't really get how kids have fun here in a good way.  Bubba has playdates, but I try to steer them towards wii, legos, and playing in the back yard.  Of course, I'm usually watching Ben during these events.

It's really hard to imagine Ben having that kind of freedom.  ASD kids can be wanderers.  We do our "walkabout" the neighborhood most every day, and I can tell that he would be just as happy whether I was there or not.  He's recently learned to open the front door.  It's obvious that we have to get a double-keyed lock installed on the front door, or there's going to be mayhem.

It was a short visit, but good to see the folks.  Ben starts at his new school next week and we have a little over 1600 miles to drive.  Next time, I'll tell y'all about our exciting road trip back, after 3 nights of little sleep.

Haiku for you:

 "Go get newspaper."
"It's really cold out there, son."
"I want see moon now."