Autistic Advocacy and Relaxation: Our Second Vacation in Colorado

On the first day of August I finished packing my clothes before we drove off to Colorado.  As we drove there, I worked on my letter to Alpha Xi Delta about their support of Autism Speaks, then my travel plans to Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, and then my letter some more.  I realized as I read my Lonely Planet books on the region about how these port cities in western India were probably how Buddhism spread to Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia, just as the Silk Road allowed Buddhism to spread to China, and at one point, the Mauryan Empire must have been the center of a global Buddhist community.  I drove on the highway for about an hour we munched on McDonald’s.  Then I worked on my letter, then my Art of War for the Autistic Advocate, and then my letter some more.  We went to Whole Food’s where I helped with the shopping before we ate dinner from their salad bar, from which I had some delicious jerk chicken, and got a new bottle cap for my collection.  Then we drove on while I continued working on my letter, until we finally arrived at our cabin.

Soon after I got up the next day I trimmed and sprayed the dandelions and grass growing between the planks on our front porch.  Then Dave and I went to Safeway where I found several bottle caps to use for my snake and other projects, got a new bottle cap from my drink there, and found a new bottle cap for my collection in the front of Safeway, that is if I can get it back into the shape it was in before.  I got back and messaged Teigan about the JCCC Autism Across the Life Span Conference, asking her if the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network of Kansas City would like to participate in it.  I also did a few more changes to my letter to Alpha Xi Delta.

We went to the Boon Festival in Leadville where I enjoyed a delicious meal of hot wings and chips, while I heard Teigan respond that they would love to participate though they will need as much information about it as possible.  Dave and I then went to a bar where we tried shots of whisky and Cowboy Coffee.  We bought some kettle corn and then went to see Paula Poundstone perform in the Tabor Opera House.  On the way back we saw a deer.  After that I got back and added some of the finishing touches to my letter.  Then I made another coaster from receipts, while I thought about Autism Speaks stranglehold over the conversation on autism, but then remembered Winston Churchill’s quote, “When you thing you are going through hell, keep going.”

           The next day cut and sprayed some dandelions for Mom and Dave.  Then we went to the Boon Festival where I enjoyed a brisket sandwich and chips and then bought a Peruvian flute and shaker at one stand and a hand drum at another, and picked up and recycled several recyclables.  I got back and made several flowers and beads from straws I found on the ground.  Then I practiced my flute for half an hour and sort of invented a new slightly different fingering notation that worked better for me. 

I made three more coasters from receipts and during dinner, the subject of Autism Speaks came up between Mom and I and to my intense relief, she said she agreed with what I thought of them, though she said she thought I ought to get my message across in a way that wasn’t angry, which was fair enough.  I also told her about my letter to Alpha Xi Delta and she said she thought I should do that.  I then finished two more coasters.  I realized I must have been quite helpful to the autistic struggle by getting all these autistic people together at JCCC; a lot of good can come about when autistic people get together; look at the Silicon Valley.  I also realized that it was probably people with disabilities who first conceived the idea that racism and other sorts of inequality stem from our societies intolerance of difference, thus helping to quash racism, and helping our society to pay it forward with ethnic minorities, proving that disabled people are not simply economic burdens or charity cases as some think they are.  The next day I communicated a message from Sean about the JCCC Autism Conference to Teigan.  Afterwards I made three more receipt coasters and started on five more.

The next morning I had a dream that I saw the citadel of Minas Tirith, only it looked much different in my dream than it did in real life, but I realized that.  After that I wrote in my dream journal, during which time I realized that in my dreams, I’ve realized things are different than they are in reality.  Then I delivered a message from Teigan to Sean.  Later I started on eight more receipt coasters.  I went into town and bought six more Native American postcards and a crotchet needle.  I got back and finished two more receipt coasters.  The next morning I combined several receipt coasters into two more coasters afterwards.  Then I sprayed some dandelions for Mom.  After that I helped plant some grass.

After that I took a walk along the tracks where I took several more photos and was inspired to do more photography.  I got back and worked on my letter to Alpha Xi Delta.  Later I went into town and got a fish fossil to frame and hang on a wall at a mineral store and a crossword puzzle book at the bookstore.  Then I went to a coffee shop and got a two-scooped cone of dark chocolate chip ice cream and an Orangina, from which I got a new non-crown bottle cap for my collection, and ate and drank them while I worked on my crossword puzzle book.  After that I went to the antique store and bought two more Native American postcards.  Then I went to another coffee shop and had a lemon crumb bar while I did some more work on my crossword puzzle book.  After that Mom, Dave, and I ate at the Grill where I got Mom to agree to send my pocketknife home in the mail.  Soon after we got home, Dave’s mother and sister Brenda arrived at our cabin.  The five of us went on a train ride the next day up the mountains where we were given a guided tour of the area.  I got several pictures on my way back, and before we went home, we went to the taco truck, where again, I got a new bottle cap from my drink.  Later I sanded the back door frame for my mom and collected some firewood, before walking down the tracks and going to the old warehouse and collecting some green, red, and gold leather, which looked almost red, yellow, and blue, to make braided leather autism awareness bracelets for the silent auction.  I made one for myself and soon afterwards ate dinner with my mom, Dave, Brenda, and Mrs. Dingley.  I told them all about my coasters and what they were for, and Mrs. Dingley suggested making a video showing how to make them, so people would be more likely to pay the price for them after seeing all the hard work involved in them.  I also enjoyed talking to Brenda, who was a major travel enthusiast herself, about my own travel plans to places such as Tibet, Turkey, and Central Asia, and was amazed at how much she knew about the regions herself. 

                The next day, my mom took me to the shuttle car that would be my first ride on the way to the airport, giving me a bag that had a present for my upcoming birthday.  My grandparents would pick me up at the airport and bring me back home.  I got on the shuttle car that led to the next one, tipping the driver and getting on the next ride.  I tipped the next driver after I got to the airport and tipped the driver again, before getting through security and soon learned my flight would be half an hour late.  I called my grandparents to let them know.  Soon afterwards, my flight boarded, and I made it to Kansas City, and was picked up by my grandparents.  They took me to get a meal a Winstead’s through the drive-through, and then I made it home and made another leather bracelet.  I called work to ask them when I worked next.  They said I didn’t have any hours that week, but I figured that was ok, because in the next week, I would be going back to UCM.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Working Man and the Autistic Porcupine Movement

            The day I spoke at the panel for adults with autism was over, and the end of July was approaching.  That day I went to Starbuck’s and read Water Touching Stone some more.  I also learned that Nantucket Nectars, a drink I got on my breaks so frequently at Hen House because I liked to collect their different bottle caps, which all had facts about the island of Nantucket, was sponsoring the group Autism Speaks, which I and many other autistics and allies disfavor for their budget which went mostly towards genetic research of autistics, ads, which often do things like equate having an autistic child to being struck by lightning, and six-figure salaries for their executives, not to mention having not a single autistic in their board or general membership since their last openly autistic employee John Elder Robison resigned after Autism Speaks cofounder Suzanne Wright made a speech at George Washington University where she basically claimed autistics to be burdens on families and societies.  On hearing this I decided I would no longer buy Nantucket on my breaks at work until they stopped their sponsorship.  AS, I believed, makes it hard for real autistics to raise their own voices to fight autism discrimination.  The next day I worked for eight-and-a-half hours as I had done before getting a new Sweet Leaf Tea bottle cap, which had different sayings called “Grannyisms,” for my collection from my drink on my first break, and two different USDA caps, which all had either six-word memoirs or quotes from famous individuals, on my lunch and last break.  I worked the next night from 4 to 9:30, and the next night from 4 to 7, getting a new USDA cap for my collection from my drink with my dinner at the end of my shift.  The next day however, my mom told me that we leave for Colorado on the first of August, when I was supposed to work from 4 to 7, so when I got to work, I asked my coworker James if he would be willing to trade shifts with me.  I learned he worked the next day from 10:30 to 7, so I agreed to trade shifts with him then, so I would be able to go to Colorado.  On my first break I got a new Sweet Leaf Tea cap, as with my lunch and second break, but during the latter, something happened that grabbed my attention. I looked at the Wikipedia page of the sorority Alpha Xi Delta, trying to learn something about their support of the organization Autism Speaks,  Unfortunately, what I read about AXD was absolutely disgusting to me.  Apparently, “Sisters ‘raise awareness’ in various ways, including passing out blue ribbons, placing advertisements in campus and local newspapers, distributing information in the community and appearing on local television programs to educate people about autism.”

                So AXD helped spread Autism Speaks’ poisonous ideas too, did they?  They would spread ideas that were hateful to autistics and alienate those on their campuses?  I could not think.  I did not believe they respected autistic people at all.  I remembered being invited to a college friend to the Tau Kappa Epsilon fraternities local chapter, and after the others thought I was someone they liked, they gave me a bid for membership, which I declined to focus on starting the Autism Spectrum Support Group for UCM.  But I doubted that had I been an openly and happily autistic woman at AXD’s Rush Week that they would have been so fair to me.  We could of course protest their walks, as had happened in Columbus, Ohio, though I felt with an irresistible jolt of anger, that like with our brothers and sisters in Columbus, the women of AXD would probably give us the “F@#! you!” along with hurling at us sandwiches and drinks that had happened everywhere we had protested. I had seen these sort of girls in my life too much already.  We (the autistic community) had to boycott them in some way, but how?  Had we not exhausted all our methods as we who disliked AS were also boycotting other companies that sponsored them, such as Joe’s Crab Shack and Home Depot?  Perhaps, I thought, the early American colonists stood up to the British by driving on the right side of the road, as a opposed the Brits, who drove on the left, and called biscuits cookies; perhaps we could do the same thing?

                I went to dinner at Panera with Cam and my dad after work, my mind still occupied with AXD’s complicity in Autism Speaks’ harmful acts.  I got home and learned one of AXD’s symbols was a golden feather quill, symbolizing, “the pen being mightier than the sword,” while their mascot was a teddy bear, the BetXi Bear; what would be the opposite of that?  I looked up “opposite of teddy bear,” and found several answers including an asteroid and a porcupine, the opposite of cute, soft, and cuddly.  That didn’t do it for me.  I think vainly, “Maybe a Schwinn bicycle, they are not made by kids in factories in China?”

                At last I called my granddad and told him my concern.  He said, “I understand, but I think you should write a letter to them, and maybe get other people to write letters to them because I think you could get your ideas across.”

                “Ok.” I said. 

                “And remember, you can do a lot more for the autism community than just criticize Autism Speaks.”

  “Thank you.  You came through for me when I needed it.”

                “That’s what I here for.”

                After I hung up, I decided to make my “Boycott Alpha Xi Delta” symbol a porcupine anyway.  Porcupine was the name of a town in Second Life where several autistic rights activists gathered.  And I looked up “porcupine symbolism” and learned that in Zen martial arts it is associated with being aware of one’s surroundings and defense without being aggressive.  I thought, “That sounds like us autistics.  We don’t want to be aggressive; we just want to live our lives.”  Also, for its size, a porcupine is very able to defend itself against larger creatures, including a bear, or a BetXi Bear for that matter, just as autistic people can defend their rights even as a minority group.  What’s more, porcupines may not be cuddly, just as many autistic people don’t like to be hugged, but that doesn’t mean they’re less important to this world or this ecosystem.  I also read that porcupines symbolize leisure and storytelling.  That makes sense I thought, because porcupines provide us with quills, like for writing, poetry, and calligraphy practiced by East Asian warriors, just as AXD has their feather quill.  It made a very good symbol for autism in general, I thought.  So I went ahead and did it: I changed my Facebook album cover to a porcupine, and saw that within the first twenty minutes, it had already gotten three likes, one from Barbara Mayfield and my grandmom.  Feeling satisfied, I retired from autism work for the day.

The next day went very much the way Sunday did.  On my first break I found out I got a Facebook message from Sean Swindler, my advisor at the JCCC Autism Spectrum Support Group, asking me if the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network of Kansas City would like to participate in JCCC’s Autism Across the Life Span Conference on October 24-25.  I told him we would be glad to.  I realized that what my granddad said was true: I could do a lot more for autism than just criticize Autism Speaks.  Later I got two more USDA caps during my lunch and second break, and soon after I got home I packed to go to Colorado the next day.

 

 

A Week of Advocacy

Monday the 21^st had come and it was the day of the July meeting of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network of Kansas City. Before I went, my mom told me the directions to the Plaza Library where it was taking place. I got there safely, remembering to call my mom to tell her when I did, and waited outside the room we were meeting at until it started. Soon a tall woman with dark hair arrived and stood outside the room with me, and then a young man, slightly shorter than me with straw-colored hair. We went in and sat down, and then a young woman with blonde hair and glasses arrived, followed by another young man. Soon, our director Teigan Hockman arrived, followed by a man with dark hair and thick-framed glasses, the former with completely dark hair save for a green ponytail in the back. Then another young woman with shoulder-length dark hair arrived. Then another man with thin blond hair arrived.

                At last, when we decided everyone who was coming was here, Teigan suggested we introduce ourselves. She began, saying she went to Penn Valley Community College, and started the Kansas City branch of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network. Then the man next to her introduced himself as Marshall Edwards, the husband of Teigan and self-diagnosed as having Asperger syndrome. Then the young man I had seen outside in the hall introduced himself as Skyler and twenty-five years old, with Asperger syndrome and ADHD. The woman I saw in the hall introduced herself as Pam, saying she was self-diagnosed as having Asperger syndrome. The dark-haired woman introduced herself as Wendy and said she was a student in the organization Disableds in Higher Education. Finally, I introduced myself saying I was Ben Edwards, and I am twenty-four years with autism, I go to the University of Central Missouri where I run a student group for students with autism, and I have two autism-related blogs.

                “Wow!” said Teigan. “Well, we know you’re busy when you’re at school, but we’ve been trying to get you to come here for a while.”

                The blonde women introduced herself as an artist with autism, and the other man, her boyfriend, introduced himself. Then the last man introduced himself as a man with Asperger syndrome who was a board member of the Autism Society Heartland. Soon we got our on-line Facebook chat going.

                “Oh, good, Elizabeth’s on,” Teigan said.

                Finally, our meeting started, and Teigan began, “Well, for this meeting we have three main things on our agenda, but first I want to tell anyone who’s unfamiliar about our group. We are a response to groups we who we feel do not really represent autism, such as Autism Speaks. They recently made a documentary called Sounding the Alarm, which had so many hateful messages about autistics, saying they’d rather have no children than an autistic child, or that having an autistic child is a living hell, or calling this new wave of autism an autism tsunami.”

                The others stirred.

                “That sounds like a roller coaster ride,” said the ASH board member. “Come ride the Autism Tsunami.”

                “And the group only donates four percent of its money to services for people with autism,” said Teigan.

                “Actually, this year it was only three,” said the board member.”

                “Three, four, what’s the difference to them,” said Teigan.

                “Anyway,” she continued, “We are a non-judgmental group, so if you want to walk around, stand up, or flap your hands, we accept that.  And normally we don’t clap our hands, because a lot of autistic people find that hard to deal with. Instead, we do this.”

She raised her hands in the air and shook them, very much like the pictures I had seen associate with a publication for stories, writings, and articles by people with autism, the Hands Loud Project, by our main chapter. 

 “So,” said Teigan, “Our first order of business is that we want to show a screening of a documentary called Citizen Autistic, and it deals with the autistic self-advocacy movement, but we need to raise the money to show it. I was thinking we could have a silent auction. I could sell some of my art and Marshall was planning on selling some of his comic books that he wrote.”

                “I have some art that I could sell,” said Wendy.

                “I have some art,” said the woman on my left.

                “I have these coasters that our made from receipts folded up and taped and glued together that I could make,” I said. 

                “Oh, like that paper art,” Teigan asked.

                “Yes.”

                “Ok. Are there any other ideas beside a silent auction?”

                “I could give some dance lessons,” said Wendy. 

                “We could show movies about autism,” said the blonde woman. “There’s Loving Lampposts.”

                “Yeah, and there’s Wretches and Jabblers,” said Teigan.

                “So,” Teigan went on after we had finished discussing ways to raise money, “Next, I wanted to go around and hear everyone’s thoughts on the group, because I feel that why I started this chapter, this isn’t all about me. I want to hear from all of you guys.”

                That was exactly what I thought all the years as I had founded two student organizations for students with autism. Marshall, Skyler, Pam, and Wendy all said their thoughts as we went around. They tended to talk about how they were self-diagnosed and how they thought it was important what the ASAN was doing. Finally, we got to me, and I said, “Well, have any of you heard of the Facebook page Boycott Autism Speaks?” I asked.

                Teigan nodded.

                “Well, they’re now taking art, photos, poetry, and pictures of people holding up signs in protest of Autism Speaks and wanted to let people know that in case they wanted to send any. I’ve also thought that a good way to protest Autism Speaks would be to put duct tape over our mouths with the Autism Speaks puzzle piece, to symbolize how Autism Speaks silences people.”

                “I like that idea,” said Teigan. “I’ll write that down, but I just thought I’d let everyone know that while that is good, we are not one of those organizations that chains ourselves to posts, although you can do that if you want.”

                “I also have been writing a letter to one of their sponsors the sorority Alpha Xi Delta, asking them to revoke their sponsorship of Autism Speaks. I think they probably don’t have autistic children like the owner of Home Depot and they may be more willing to listen to us, and I thought if anyone wanted to, they could take a look at the letter when I’m finished and give their input.”

                “We’ve tried writing to them before and they keep writing back to us saying, 'We think they’re doing great.' But the more we write to them, the more we chip away at their convictions.”

                “It’s happened before when we got Chili’s to drop their sponsorship for the National Autism Association,” said the Autism Society Heartland board member.

                “We have a message from Elizabeth,” said Teigan. “She asks, 'What else is our group about? Aren’t we about more than simply criticizing Autism Speaks?’”

                “Well,” I said, “While we do criticize Autism Speaks, that’s only part of something bigger. Our main goal is to create greater inclusion and acceptance of autistic people.”

                “That’s right,” said Teigan. “I’m going to write that down.” 

                At last, we got to the business of creating our website. “If anyone has anything to send us, like if they know of a sponsor of Autism Speaks, so we can let people know, or autism-friendly resources or professionals who can help many of our member s get diagnosed, we’d like that, and professionals like it to because it’s like a recommendation for them.”

                “Perhaps we could have something where we autistics tell our stories?” said the blonde woman.

                “Yeah, like The Autism Monologues.” said Teigan.

                As we left, the blonde woman said to me, “You took the words right out of my mouth when you said that we are about finding greater acceptance and inclusion for autistic people.

                I got home and updated my Facebook status saying I had my first Autistic Self-Advocacy Network meeting and that it went great. I told my granddad about it, and he was very excited. I unwound by working on my travel plans to Germany. The next morning, I found out my recent status got fifteen likes. That day I made five more coasters from receipts. I took a short break for breakfast and decided I could help my dream of being a translator by reading the introductions and gratitude of other translators to know I could go to for help. Then I spread mulch for Mom, swimming in the pool halfway through the work and afterwards. Cate got there that day to, and said to me, “Oh, Ben I have something for you.”

She reached into her suitcase and gave me a magazine on Buddhist traditions of India and Tibet. 

“I have a subscription to these as a member of the museum in New York and I get them every month.”               

“Well, thank you,” I said.

Then I went to Starbuck’s. I got back, after which Mom said I did a really great job on the mulch, and then I started making some more dream catchers. After dinner I talked to Dad, who was excited about the news of ASAN. I also decided to sell the dream catchers, for ten dollars apiece, the coasters for twenty-five dollars, both Mom’s idea, and the friendship bracelets for $2.50. Then I watched Wilfred with Mom, Dave, and Cate.

The next day I went to Winstead’s and then Barnes and Noble, where I got a Lonely Planet book in Central Asia, before going to the Pathless Land. Before we did our meditation, I told Ben about my receipt coasters and dream catchers and asked him if it would be alright if I told the group about them before we started the discussion group, and he said it would. The next morning at my art class, I told Donna about the silent auction, and she said she would be happy to donate one of her paintings to it.

“Really?!”

“Yes. It’s a good cause.”

            I got home and met with Mardy at Starbuck’s, and he agreed to bring a TV and a fridge (since his was bigger) for our room together next year, and I would bring the microwave. We got back and watched TV before he had to go home to great some family members coming into town. The next morning, while passing the time before I went to the Camp Encourage panel for adults with autism, reading my Lonely Planet Turkey book. I read a part on Turkey’s beloved founder, statesman, and revolutionary Ataturk (meaning “Father Turk”). Towards the end of the boxed text, I read after years of being a military man and reformer, he died a young age at age 57. Then a car pulled up to my driveway, which turned out to be Michelle Hass, there to give me a ride. We met and I thanked her for the ride, and we passed the time talking and sharing experiences and stories of ours. I got to the camp and met the other person on the panel, a blonde young man, named Eric. This time, Kelly told us, we would only be doing to panels with more groups together, so it would be less exhausting for us. We arranged chairs and the kids got in we began by introducing ourselves. I told them my name was Ben Edwards and I was twenty-four and a student at the University of Central Missouri who ran a group for students with autism and I had two blogs related to autism. Eric, I learned, was in community college and wished to become a zookeeper and was a counselor at the camp. At the end of the first panel, a camp board member approached me and introduced himself.

“Hi, Ben,” he said, “I heard you, and I thought you were just great. You are clearly very intelligent and articulate and a great advocate.” The second group came in, along with a young neurotypical counselor, who I recognized from last time. I found her nametag and saw that her name was Kayla. With each answer we gave, the children clapped, and Kayla looked at me, her eyes watered like the last time. The last question was, “What parting advice would you give these campers?”

                “I would say that some people would say that some of your 'special interests' as people with autism may not get you anywhere, that there might not be a demand for them, but there are several autistic people like Temple Grandin, Daniel Tammott, and others who had their special interests and they managed to make a career from them, so I would say that whatever your special interest is, go for it.” People clapped and several campers and counselors came up to me and asked me questions. “Do you enjoy being autistic?” “Did you ever use sign language?” “Were you ever completely non-verbal?”

                After I had answered all these questions, Kayla said to me, “Thanks for coming, Ben. You’re an inspiration.”

                “Thank you,” I said, and then asked her and Cassidy, “Do you two have Facebook?”

                “Yes,” said Kayla. “It’s Kayla Rodes. R-O-D-E-S.”

                “Cassidy Goodman. G-O-O-D-M-A-N.”

                Thank you,” I said.

                “And you’ll have to message me the address of your blogs,” said Kayla.

                “Definitely,” I said.

                I drove home with Michelle, thanking her for the ride, and relaxed, tired after an exhausting day. I managed to find Cassidy on Facebook, though for some reason, I couldn’t find Kayla, and decided to ask another counselor like Cassidy about it. After watching a bit of TV, a paced momentarily in the kitchen, remembering the Turkish leader Ataturk having died at the age of 57, wondering, half-seriously, if a similar fate wasn’t in store for me. 

A Long Expected Reunion

On a Friday, two days after I had given to both the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network and a memorial scholarship foundation for a deceased fellow UCM student, I drove down to my quarterly psychiatrist appointment. There I told my psychiatrist, Dr. Mays, about what I recently did for the two foundations and how it brought out feelings of sadness over the event, combined with the feeling of isolation from trying to find a girl who understood what autistic people like me had to go through, which he understood. I also got an e-mail from Kelly from Camp Encourage, asking if I would be able to participate in their next panel series of adults with autism, saying they could give me a ride. I said certainly, and she e-mailed me back saying that was great, and one of their counselors, Michelle Hass would pick me up. I called Tyler and arranged for us to sleep over tomorrow night. Then I called Hen House and found out I work on Sunday from 4-7. I called Erin and we agreed to get together soon. The next day I washed down a gliding porch for fifteen dollars. Tyler arrived for our sleepover, and we swam in the pool. We ordered Minsky’s pizza and I listened to an amazing song called Special Needs that Tyler showed me. He also taught me how to snap my fingers. We watched fifteen episodes of Mighty Morphing Power Rangers on Netflix, all the way back from the nineties before going to bed. 

                The next morning, I woke up to find Tyler standing next to me waiting for me to get up at around eight in the morning. Reluctantly, I got up and we watched three more episodes of Mighty Morphing Power Rangers before I fell asleep and woke up about half an hour later to hear Tyler tell me what happened. At his urging I jumped in the pool to “wake me up,” and we swam a little bit more before I we watched more of Mighty Morphing Power Rangers. Then we swam some more before Tyler’s dad came to pick him up. After taking a shower, I went down to Starbuck’s and read more of Water Touching Stone. I went to work and afterwards I got a new USDA cap from my drink I bought afterwards. I also worked on my trellises made from bottle rings and twist-ties. Then I put up my status on Facebook about going to the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network Kansas City meeting tomorrow night and got eight likes on it in one night.