"Born This Way" ........or Not

Young adults born with Down syndrome pursue their passions while defying society's expectations. 


The statement above is the synopsis for the "docu-series" Born This Way.  At my daughter Mary's suggestion, I watched an episode of the program because she thought I would enjoy seeing how a group of seven young adults with Down syndrome interact with each other and the world. She also thought I would appreciate the connection between the cast and Jeannine. After viewing the episode, I have concluded that there are some significant problems with what is presented.

First, it was difficult to watch the episode "Bachelor Pad" without feeling pretty much like a failure. Two of the young men, Sean and Steven, are buddies and their parents decide that it is time for them to exert some independence. They find them an AirBNB house to rent, and, having enlisted the services of a company that provides live-in support, Sean and Steven move in together.

Of course the plan is not without its bumps: Steven packs everything except his pants, and both young men want dibs on the same bedroom. Sean wins the room in the end, but his mother makes certain that he knows he will have to compromise when the next conflict comes.

The fascinating thing about this was the scene where the guys are sitting down to a burrito lunch they prepared themselves and opened up to each other about being nervous living without their parents on site. Could I see Jeannine in a similar situation? I don't know...I might be able to see her living independently from me, but I certainly could not see her expressing herself with the insight these two men did.

In a side story, John, who wants to pursue a career in entertainment as an R&B songwriter-singer-dancer, performs at an event and his mother comes right out and tells him she was disappointed. Ahead of his performance, she tried to encourage him to practice, but to no avail...and his performance showed it. She was all about how he could do better and she knew it. To his credit, he said he did not want to disappoint her and the "next time" he would be better. Again, could I see Jeannine making a choice to do something -- and do something well -- simply because she did not want to disappoint me? Nope. The flaw here is not that these wonderful people do not have dreams and aspirations. They do. Jeannine does. But what they see in their dreams most people believe are attained simply because they want it. There is no hard work, practice, training and discipline. It just happens.

I see this quite often with Jeannine. Her latest passion is that she wants to participate in Special Olympics swimming for the first time in several years. Inspired by the events of the latest Olympic Games, she is determined to swim as well as Katie Ledecky and win as many gold medals as Michael Phelps. While she is a decent swimmer, having won her share of medals and ribbons from past meets, the reality is that others can and have surpassed her in skill and speed. When gently suggesting that she do more during the limited swim practices than hang on the side of the pool chatting with others, she becomes irritated; yet she sees herself swimming with speed and ease, earning that precious gold medal.

Then there is Elena, a young woman of Japanese descent, who not only deals with Down syndrome, but, like so many others, has to work through other emotional issues. In this episode, she talks with her mom about her emotional "roller coaster" and in the end, agrees to start some medication that might help get her emotions under better control. Do I believe Jeannine has that insight into herself, her moods, her emotions? Do I believe that most people with Down syndrome have that great capacity of self reflection that leads them to a conclusion like Elena's to do something to help make their situation better? I just don't see it happening in the majority of instances.

So for what it is worth, it was really depressing to watch Born This Way. I kept trying to tell myself that this could not be real: these people with Down syndrome could not have such great insight into who they are, with an ability to articulate how they are feeling.  I wonder how much of this was true and how much was scripted. I kept trying to see myself having these sorts of conversations with Jeannine, but the reality is that she does not have that maturity shown by these characters in the program. My conclusion is that either these wonderful individuals who happen to have Down syndrome must function at a much higher level than most, or, there is much more going on behind the scenes of this "docu-series" than the viewing audience is given to understand. Perhaps, though, the fault is all mine for making choices for Jeannine throughout her life that maybe did not allow for her to develop to the fullest all her wonderful talents and abilities....but I doubt it.

To Serve and Protect

A sad and appalling incident making headlines today brought back a flood of memories for me. It seems that any news story involving some disabled person can elicit a strong response from me -- be it joy and wonder, or in this instance anger and pain.

Many may have read about Hannah Cohen, a disabled 19-year old woman who was beaten by TSA agents at the Memphis airport.  Complete details of the story and subsequent lawsuit are detailed here.

All of this brought to mind an incident we had at Portland International Airport two years ago. Jeannine, my daughter with Down syndrome, her father Tim and I were flying to Tucson: I was attending a health coach training meeting and Tim and Jeannine were tagging along to spend some time together at "a nice hotel," as Jeannine likes to say.

I have my own opinion about the current political state in which we live, but that aside, we had all our "papers" in order and proceeded to the cattle line to go through the security check point. It was all lovely as one of the TSA attendants, likely seeing we were traveling with a special needs person, approached us and invited us to go through the Pre-check line. "Wow," I thought to myself, "this should give Tim some relief that he won't have to worry about me making a scene!"

That was short-lived. Tim and I breezed through the line; then came Jeannine. She bantered with the agent, telling him that she was going to Tucson and would be staying in a nice hotel and going swimming and having a good time. What he responded I do not know, but the next thing I knew he was asking her how old she was. "Eighteen," she replied, and of course added that "I am going to be 19 next February."

He stopped her there and asked if she had any identification. She looked up, bewildered. He asked again if she had any identification. At this point I figured out what was going on and asked Jeannine if she had her identification card with her. She carries the "state issued" card with her, and just needed to have the question asked in a way she understood. She then told me she did not have her wallet with her.

Jeannine does not understand the concept of "traveling light," and when she goes anywhere, even if it is just an overnight, she will carry more clothes than she needs, more books that she will read, office supplies and photo albums. I will own this mistake; I told her that she did not need to bring everything with her on the trip and she decided she really did not need her purse or wallet. One has to have priorities, I suppose.

Anyway, the ensuing half hour was one that I do not want to have to relive. I suddenly found myself on the floor at the checkpoint, tearing my own things apart in an effort to find something that would satisfy them as to her identity. Did I have her library card? Yes, that wouldn't work because, while her name was on it, it was in her handwriting. The agent asked if we had any medication. Well yes, but it was in her checked bag.

By this time other travelers were backing up in the "Pre-Check" line, so we moved aside still trying to figure out what to do. Tim kept watching me: he was well aware of my opinion of this sort of violation of our rights, and I knew he was in fear that I would create a horrible scene. The agent made a phone call but would not tell us to whom -- I supposed it was to some next level up agent to get some direction. Seriously, this should be a no-brainer. Here is a young person with clear physical indications of developmental impairment, traveling with two adults who happened to have all the "proper papers." Couldn't there be reasonable accommodation afforded here?

The agent then approached me and Tim to let us know that they would have to take Jeannine aside and question her -- alone. My heart sank. I knew that this was going to take a very long time, as Jeannine's anxiety level increases in stressful situations. To be taken apart from her parents to go with strangers in uniforms? I knew that even if they asked straight-forward questions, she might not process them correctly and start giving answers that might not be 100% accurate. Things like her phone number (she knows several), her address (she can transpose numbers), where she was born (in a hospital and it rained hard that day).

Thankfully, this interrogation took place just a few feet from where we were standing. One agent was at a computer, another faced Jeannine to ask the questions. She was able to answer her name, birthday and how old she was. Then the agent asked her which parent she knew better, Mom or Dad. She looked toward me for clarification and the agent told me I could not help her. I just prayed that she would pick me, because of the two of us, Jeannine has more accurate information about me than Tim (she thinks Tim is 45 -- another story).

She chose her Dad and I just thought that we would end up -- all three of us -- in some FBI office being held on suspicion of something or other. What happened next was quite surprising. The agent behind the computer apparently had access to a database and funneled questions to the other agent. They asked her his birthdate (thankfully, not his age), what he did, where he worked (the specific address). She answered most of these questions without glancing our way, and apparently her answers were fine, because the next thing I knew, the agent asked that she and I go through the "special" screening process where we were wanded down, had our hands screened and Jeannine's backpack tested for I don't know what. We were dismissed with the caution that we needed to have some sort of identification for Jeannine on our return flight (duh).

By this time, our flight was getting ready to board and Tim sent me on ahead, the thought being that it was more important for me to get on the flight than either him or Jeannine. In the end we all made it; I called daughter to have her overnight Jeannine's wallet to us at the hotel in Tucson, making certain that her identification card was in it.

While I can appreciate the "efforts" our government is taking to keep us "safe and secure," in this age of "terror," somewhere along the way reason and sanity have been lost. Even though our incident with TSA did not end up with physical injuries like what happened to Hannah Cohen, I know exactly how Hannah's mother must have felt as she helplessly watched her helpless child, confused and upset, became a victim at the hands of those who are supposed to serve and protect us. It is also disturbing that at the click of a mouse, any information these agents need about us is available for use or misuse. At the end of the day, I know that in spite of Jeannine's need to be free and independent, I will just have to suck it up and continue to harass her about the things she needs to have to be a strong, independent woman (that is, her state-issued identification). I also know that when it comes to "serve and protect," we cannot and should not depend on anyone but ourselves to shield the most vulnerable in our lives.

In the Clinic the Struggle for Understanding Can Be Humorous

One of the nicest benefits to being part of a small medical practice is that patients come to know each of the staff, and the interactions can be pleasant and, at times, amusing.

A few years ago, when the only "associates" to Cleary Medical Associates were our medical assistant, Jeannine and me, Dr. Cleary had a middle-aged gay patient who unfortunately had a host of chronic care diseases. When Barry came to the office it was typically an extended appointment. Barry did not drive and really came a long distance to see Tim.

One afternoon, Barry came for his appointment and with him was his partner, Jess. As Jess was not a patient and Barry declined having him come back to be part of the office visit, he remained in the waiting room. Jess was a gruff sort, apparently not interested in any of the magazines or other reading material we had available. He just sat there staring at me as I worked at the front desk. I decided I would try to talk with him, but all my attempts to engage him is some light conversation fell flat. His reticence may also have been increased when another patient, an elderly gentleman named John, came in for his appointment.

At this point Jeannine emerged from her after school spot in a little room we set up for her complete with books, games and a DVD player so she could watch her favorite movies. She had grown tired of being at the office, so she came out to see if there was anything of interest to do. She saw John, and having seen and talked with him before, immediately went to the waiting room to say hi. After chatting with him for a few minutes, she turned her attention to Jess.

"Great," I thought to myself, "she is going to try to talk with him, and he will rebuff her." Jeannine doesn't take being put-off very well, and I was not at all sure how he would react to our little soul or how she would respond to his gruffness. Braced for the worst, I watched as Jeannine went across the room and sat in the chair next to Jess.

"Hi," she said, "My name is Jeannine. Are you here to see my dad?"

"No," Jess replied, "I am waiting for Barry."

"Oh, so you are not a patient."

"No," came the brief response.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Jess."

"Oh, so are you married?" she inquired.

"No, I have a partner," he said.

"So you are married."

"No, I have a partner, Barry."

"So what is your wife's name?"

"I don't have a wife; I have a partner."

"OK, so what is your wife's name?" she asked again.

"I don't have a wife. I have a partner."

"Oh, so what's your wife's name?"

At this point I am trying not to lose it as this question and answer session carried on for about three minutes. It was amusing to me to watch Jess struggle to get Jeannine to understand the very different relationship he and Barry shared with an audience intent on following this conversation. He was clearly at a loss to find the words she might understand, but was surprisingly very patient with her.

John, for his part, sat quietly trying to concentrate on the book he brought to read. Every now and then, though, Jess would glance his way, then mine, not in an attempt to plead for help -- perhaps it was just to see how we were reacting to it all. At length the medical assistant came to call John back and Jeannine knew that Jess would be leaving soon.

As she moved from her perch next to Jess, she turned back to him to thank him, and would he please tell his wife "Hello."

"Sure," he said, finally giving up any hope of having her understand.

So for what it is worth, I am glad that I did not interfere with Jeannine's interaction with Jess. As much as I would have liked to divert Jeannine to something else, I knew any efforts would only lead to her becoming upset with me, with an uncomfortable scene likely to ensue. Besides, it was far too funny to watch these two go back and forth in what might have been an unending conversation. In the end, Jess became a patient in the practice and without fail, when he would come to his appointments, if Jeannine was not immediately present, he would always ask where she was...."the real manager in the office." And, without fail, she would pop out from wherever she was and go out to talk with him.

Walking Jeannine

Walking Jeannine

Barbara Cleary

Walking is considered one of the easiest and most affordable habits of health a person can embrace. In fact,  Dan Buettner, author of The Blue Zones, identifies "moving naturally" as one of the Power9 Strategies of those living to be 100 or more -- and what is more natural than walking and walking with a purpose?

I have always loved walking as exercise. In those years when Jeannine was in preschool, I would often take part of that three hour block of free time to go to the local mall and walk with the senior citizens before the stores opened. At first the challenge was to be able to keep up with them as they walked their laps. All too often, though, a new window display would catch my eye and before I knew it, a dozen people had passed me. How could I lose my imaginary Indy 500 walking race around the mall to a group of seniors? Ever the competitive spirit, I disciplined myself to avoid such distractions and before I knew it, I was lapping even the most dedicated of those walkers.

I then turned my sights on timing. With a basic pedometer, I calculated that walking the mall -- including all the "cul de sacs" -- I could get a little more than three miles completed in about 40 minutes. I could log almost 8000 steps all before 10 am as well!

Those were the golden days. Life has moved on more than intervened, and my daily travels around Portland no longer take me near that mall. My daily schedule prohibits me from walking with the seniors. It has been difficult to get back to committing myself to a walking schedule, and I have tried many creative ways to once again bring this habit of health back into my life.

I tried walking the neighborhood, which would really be ideal because we live in a very hilly place and the interval training this naturally brings would be perfect for me. The problem is that I am at heart a "fair weather" athlete: I will do any outdoor activity if the weather is optimal. It doesn't help that I live in Portland, Oregon because many days here do not inspire that motivation to get out and click off those steps. Then I went to Plan B. I could "Walk On-Demand" from the comfort and security of my own home.

Plan B did not last very long, either. The wonders of cable TV could have been the catalyst for my return to a walking regimen, but sadly I discovered that as much as I was a "fair weather" outdoor walker, I was even more of a "fair weather" riser. I was great at popping out of bed at 5:30 or 6 am if my husband had decided to go to the gym to get his workout completed before going to the office. I found, though, that I was much less inclined to move if he decided to postpone his exercise until later in the day. It wasn't so much that it was too comfortable to move, as much as it was that I didn't want Tim to catch me looking pretty silly at 6 am gyrating around our bonus room as I followed the lead of the "instructor" in a pathetic attempt to get a "2 Mile Walk" completed in 22 minutes. On to Plan C: enlist the help of our young adult daughter, Jeannine.

Jeannine has Down syndrome, and like me, sees walking as one of those things she can take or leave (mostly leave). There have been mornings when she will be inspired to walk the neighborhood, headset and music in tow, no matter the weather. The problem is that she wants to exert her muscle of independence on her own and really balks at the idea of a walking partner. In the end, I allow her to win "The War of Jeannine Independence" and I still don't get my walking done.

In a rare mood about two weeks ago, Jeannine happily agreed to walk with me to the grocery -- a journey of about a mile and a half. My purpose was just to get a cup of coffee from the in-store Starbucks. As it was a bright, warm and sunny early fall day, and, when Bales Thriftway is the incentive, Jeannine is up for the task.

One does not walk "with" Jeannine as much as "walk" Jeannine. Other walking companions will keep a flow of conversation going about any number of topics, or otherwise engage in some social interaction...not so Miss Jeannine. When she is really up for the walk, though, she dons her headset and iPhone and bops along ahead of me employing any and all dance moves she can create as well as singing at the top of her lungs. Sometimes I wish I was in one of the oncoming cars just to be able to see what she looks like from the front. Her Down syndrome characteristic small ears and ear canals prohibit her from using the earbuds most people now wear, and it has to be quite comical watching her from the front, because every now and then she has to readjust the bright blue headset as it begins to slip off her head. This, combined with her need to pull up her pants as they fall down makes for a very interesting sight.

We managed to make it to the grocery in about 40 minutes, where she promptly sat down at one of the outdoor tables and chairs. As I explored the flower baskets and plants in the garden area, I lost track of her. Thinking that I would find her in line at Starbucks, I made my way into the store where, not seeing her in line, prompted me to head to gluten-free aisle or the candy section....where she was not to be found.

There is not one person working in the store who does not know Jeannine and pretty soon I saw her holding court to three or four employees at a check out stand. After receiving my usual, "Not now, Mom," from her as she continued plying her captive audience with questions, I asked if she wanted any water before we headed home. She was not interested in hydrating be it water or anything else, so  I firmly prodded her to end her interviews and we made our way back home.

The trek home was a night and day difference. No happy dancing. No bouncing ahead of me. No singing to her music. As a matter of fact, she carried the headset home, walked behind me and grumbled about how her "feets hurt." Amazingly, though, when we reached the entrance to our neighborhood (some 60 minutes later), ready for the 6-degree climb to the top of hill where home is situated, she gained new energy and chattered her way up the sidewalk, anticipating a large glass of water, tossing off her shoes and resting on the couch.

What have learned? Well, while walking and walking with a purpose may be a terrific habit of health, I may have to consider a "Plan D" -- as in "deep-sixing" it for something else. Ideally this would be something that would involve Jeannine because we would dearly love to instill this habit of healthy movement in her. Perhaps my Plan D should involve dancing; then we both could look comical, but we would definitely have some fun!

Clothes Define the Person

With all our children, we have tried to encourage each to be active participants in their learning and education -- not just passive participants in their formal and informal education. For Jeannine, our dream has been in helping her to discover her strengths so that she develops the skills to do meaningful work.

As it turns out, Jeannine has been the most active participant of all the children when it comes to learning. This is not so much with her formal education as much as it is with the informal. The one thing that is positively certain about her is that she strives to do everything everyone else is doing. It is no surprise, then, that when her father decided to break from corporate medicine ten years ago and go back to a solo medical practice, she was right there ready to help. At first it was just confined to those hours she was in the office before and after school, and she was not so inclined to do much more than greet patients as they came in or left their appointment. She would even sit with them in the waiting room entertaining them with her observations, asking questions and responding to their queries as they waited (sometimes a while) to be seen.

As the years passed and formal school was no longer an option, she would come to the office and really want to engage in the "real work" everyone was doing. Not content with taking charge of the shredding and other mundane tasks, she volunteered to call patients to confirm their appointments. After much thought and deliberation, her father agreed to allow her to make the calls. Why not? Her speech was clear and she knew how to dial the phone numbers. All she needed was a copy of the schedule and she was on her way.

We scripted the calls for her, but very soon she was "winging it" and delighting those she spoke with with her professional phone manner and light-hearted chit-chat. It was fun listening to her, especially as practiced pronouncing patient names before making the official call. If she needed to leave a message there was no problem: she handled that very well, even if she had to start over again (in the same message) several times before getting it "perfect." When she was able to speak directly with the patient, it was heart-warming to hear her conclude the call with a sweet giggle and a "you're very welcome" to their "thank you for the reminder." It was even comical to hear her disgust if the patient neglected to thank her and just hung up..."He (or she) didn't even SAY anything when I called," could often be heard sailing through the office as she hung up the phone in frustration.

What was even more fun was to have the patients want to see her when they came in, especially to thank her for the reminder. Puffed up by the success of her new responsibility, Jeannine suggested that she could run the patient paperwork, highlighting medical services for which the patient may be due, and check for copays for those coming in the next day. After our watching her perform this additional task for a few days, she became defensive about having to be monitored. Again, after some thoughtful deliberation, we cut her loose from direct supervision and merely checked her work when she wasn't around. She was truly a productive member of our staff and fully appreciated by patients and co-workers alike. She was so dependable in the discharge of her duties that she was made official with her own name badge: Jeannine -- Office Assistant. On top of this, Jeannine took great joy in sharing with anyone she met -- at the grocery store, at church, at parties -- how she works in a medical office and what she does and how important her work is. In fact, she was so dedicated to her job that she routinely declined going on errands with me so that she could be in the thick of things at the office.

Well, the novelty of this job wore off after about a year or so and, in some ways true to the disposition of those with Down Syndrome, stubbornness set in and it could be like pulling teeth to sit her down to do her job. At first she would take the entire morning to go from person to person in the office to find out if she "had to call" everyone on the schedule, and then we could see her crest-fallen face if no one was crossed from the list.

Not to be deterred from dodging the confirmation call bullet, Jeannine would conveniently skip some people on the schedule (especially those who "didn't even say anything to her" the last time she called -- apparently she never forgets a slight).  It was interesting to hear the conversations she would have when the patient would come in and lament to her that they "didn't get my Jeannine call" and how much they depended on hearing from her to remind them about their appointment. In spite the cajoling we would do to get her do her work, there were days when she just wasn't interested.

So for what it is worth: While it is thrilling to be able to see her grow in her skills and be a positive force in the office, doing the meaningful work we had always wanted her to do, there are times when I wonder if we just haven't created a "Bride of Frankenstein," because there appears to be no end to her desire to do more and more for our providers. The other day I caught her going through the medical scrubs catalog with one of our medical assistants discussing which styles would be best for her when she becomes a "medical assistant for real."

Birthdays, Social Media and Self Worth

If it had not been for my children, I would have never attempted to join any of the social media outlets. My daughter (not Jeannine - although she most likely could have facilitated it) created my Facebook account several years ago, and I have to admit that until recently I have not spent a great deal of time there.

It was important for me, however, to check in once in awhile just to see what my children were doing and show support for their life successes as they "posted" to their page. Every now and then my son would ask if I had seen something or other that he had posted, and then I would have to track down the post and "like" it, or more often, make some comment about how he should not refer to Jeannine as a "moose."

Since embarking on this quest to be brave and challenge myself to be a better person, I have been checking in on Facebook several times a week. I had at first decided that I would use this as a forum to promote devotions and prayers, calling on my FB friends and family to join me in prayer. I have even used it to ask for prayers for family, friends and even for myself when needed. I was always impressed at the number of people who responded to my requests and even followed up to know the outcome.

The one thing I have noticed in the past few years is how FB will let me know of birthdays and the like, and offer an opportunity to send greetings (or even a gift) to the person celebrating their special day. Not that I have taken advantage of all the opportunities to "write on a timeline," for every person "friended," but I have noticed on the newsfeed the numbers of well-wishes for this person or that person celebrating a birthday. Some people had outpourings numbered into the hundreds. "Wow," I thought, "certainly when my natal day arrives I should hear from many of my friends and family!" Alive with anticipation, I made sure that I checked FB on that fatal day in January.

What a disappointment. I believe I had less than 10 and perhaps less than five greetings on my timeline.

Contrast this to two weeks or so later when Jeannine's birthday rolled around. The little mugwump had no less than 100 greetings on her timeline, and a large percentage of them were more than just a short "Happy Birthday." Many took the time to write beautiful messages to her. What was more amazing was that a number of these posts were morphed from someone else's post. When adding the "likes" to the actual messages, the number skyrocketed.

As I reflected on this humiliating experience, I rationalized that so many people acknowledged her birthday because she is a very special person and people were just being kind. I, on the other hand, am just an ordinary person who would not take notice or feel slighted if ignored. That really did not make sense because it really was not about me, but about how so many people connected to her. On deeper reflection, I remembered a long time friend of mine who, when her birthday came, had hundreds of greetings and well-wishes as well. What could be the difference between me and them?

I never felt that I could call her by anything other than her given name, but "She," as many of her close friends know her, is a high school friend I had not seen or spoken with for years. Then we found a connection on FB and I have had the joy of touching part of her life again for a few years now. "She" has a remarkably open and friendly personality. I remember that in our class of 32 students, "She" had a wonderful ability to be part of any group. This could be that so many of our classmates were her friends since grade school, so the bonds were forged before I met her, but on closer inspection, it was more than that.

"She" was also part of other groups in our class, the most memorable being those who followed the rock bands of the time. Now these were not the soft rock groups and solo singers: these were the hard rock bands of the age. As I was not part of this group (or any group) and generally had no interest in the music of the time, I can only guess for a frame of reference that these might be bands like The Who and Led Zeppelin. Anyway, "She" had strong connections with all of us in the class and it was not surprising that when reconnecting via FB, many of her connections were from high school days.

What is even more disturbing for me is that "She" told me she does not publish her birthday on Facebook, so all those who wish her well have no reminders that her birthday has arrived. Perhaps those who have sent greetings to her do not remember her birthday either, but, like Jeannine, some of the posts were generated by others who saw previous comments.

So for what it is worth, I could take this and measure my self worth based on a pitiful showing of social media birthday greetings, but I think that I will accept the fact that I am blessed to be connected to two very beautiful souls, who in different ways have touched many people in deep and profound ways.

Skyscapes, Sunsets and Jeannine

The other night a friend and I stepped outside my house and he commented, "I like to look at my favorite artist's work," and his gaze directed me to a fantastic sunset. This actually was less a sunset as it was a skyscape, as the houses in the neighborhood obscured a better view of the sun setting over the Coast Range in Oregon. Be that as it may, the rose hues, mauves and purples mingled with the golden sunlight and clouds of a winter afternoon, providing a stunning backdrop to the large and majestic conifers which landscaped my neighbors' yards.

"God is my favorite artist," he stated simply. I have to agree. While we can blend paint colors to create wonderful landscape paintings or carefully orchestrate a camera lens to snap a photo, these pale in comparison to the original: a daily gift we receive if we are open to appreciating it.

I admit that I have not always appreciated sunrises, sunsets and the skycapes we can see each day. It was only about four or five years ago that my fascination with these daily gifts piqued, and my awareness increased. It was not just in Oregon, either. We traveled to Colorado by car a few years ago, and from my vantage point in the back set, I was able to snap dozens and dozens of skycapes from Oregon, through Idaho, Utah, Wyoming and finally Colorado. From sunrises and sunsets, to thunderstorms brewing across the flat landscape of Wyoming and the towering peaks in the Rocky Mountains, I had a grand time with my digital camera, and it seemed that nothing was escaping my notice and need to create these keepsakes.

On our return, my backseat companion and young daughter, Jeannine, asked if she could look at the pictures I had taken on the trip. Or so I thought. After about a half hour I asked for the camera, as a particularly interesting cloud formation caught my eye. I quickly snapped the picture and looked to see if it was satisfactory. Happy with the result, I decided to review the photos I had taken along the trip. To my surprise and dismay, all of my photos were gone. The only pictures left in memory were those of Jeannine: with her friends or family, or just her alone.

It seemed that life had intervened and Jeannine had spent the last half hour not just looking at the pictures, but deleting any photos not related to her. Rather than becoming annoyed and upset about what had just happened (although it was frustrating), I had to take a deep breath and admire what she did. You see, Jeannine has Down syndrome, and we spend quite a bit of time attempting to move her to activities of daily living...like getting out of bed in the morning and taking a shower or brushing her teeth. When it comes to technology, however, she has a facility of mind that will surpass even her typical peers. She figured out how to not only move from shot to shot, but took it upon herself to manage my photos with the thing that is most important -- her.

So I still have the gift of sunrises and sunsets to see and appreciate, but perhaps the greatest gift I have been given by the greatest Artist of all is Jeannine. The challenge is to be able to appreciate.