It’s Go TIme for Christmas, people! Shipping deadlines may have come and gone, but there is still a ton to do. The cookies that were baked need to be packaged, the cards that were bought need to be addressed and mailed, and the presents so carefully selected are not going to wrap themselves. It’s enough to make you want to pull a George Bailey and head to the nearest bridge. Well, think of us as your Christmas angels here to remind you of the true meaning of the season. Now put down that tape dispenser and those scissors for a well-deserved break and listen to this story.

My neighbor Dylon is a teen with autism. He is also obsessed with telephone poles. He knows every type of utility pole, their crossarms, their type of resistors, what utility companies work where. If he were on a car trip, he could point out which company services which area from Patapsco to Constellation all the way from Maryland to Florida. It’s safe to say that power poles are kind of his thing.

His dad Ron knows this: “When we are driving down any street, he will notice a new pole and he will whip his head around like he just saw Santa in a sleigh.” Yeah, we’ve got Minecraft, LEGO, and One Direction going on here, we get the obsessions. But while every kid can have a bit of a one track mind, it is a whole different ballgame in autism.

Autism brings other challenges as well. When Ron asks Dylon what he wants for Christmas or his birthday, Dylon will just repeat what he has gotten in the past. No original thoughts. No lengthy lists. No last minute addendums or post-scripts.

So the family has to get creative. Last year, Ron noticed some new utility poles going up in South Jersey—the biggest he had ever seen—so he drove the whole family up there as a surprise for Dylon. The picture of their three kids sitting on that utility pole was their Christmas card that year.

This year, Ron wanted to score some Delmarva Power gear for a Christmas present for Dylon. He had tried unsuccessfully a year ago to visit the plant itself. The PR person there said there was no program for a tour like that even though they really just wanted ten minutes to look around. Ron thought his idea this year was so much simpler–a pen, a mug, a coaster, anything–and he just knew how much Dylon would love it, so he started emailing people. He received no response, not a single one.

So he decided to hit the pavement and make a visit or three. Every stop had the same pattern. Ron would usually meet a perfectly nice customer service rep who would refer him to a supervisor who would promptly dismiss him and show him on his way. Empty-handed. No premium items. Nada. Nothing.

Each stop. Same story.

At the third location, things looked like they were shaping up to go the same way as before, but this time was different. There was a subtle change. This ship was turning around. This time the customer service rep didn’t bother looking for a supervisor. This woman listened to Ron tell his story of what he wanted for his son for Christmas and then promptly walked away.

But she came back quickly with a canvas bag with the company logo on it and started filling it up . . . with items from her workspace. Pens, desk items, notepads—any number of fully emblazoned ephemera made its way into the bag. This was a small miracle in and of itself, but then her neighboring coworker saw what was happening and started emptying out her desk area too. The bag was getting mighty big.

But it’s the little things. In the midst of all this generosity, the co-worker added a die-cast lift power truck replica that had been sitting on her desk for years. Who knows why she added it in with all the other items, but she did. Maybe she was moved by Ron’s determination, maybe she was touched by the Christmas spirit, or maybe she had her own obsessed kid at home and she really was able to see Dylon as just any other kid.  In any case, Dylon carries that truck up to bed every night and back downstairs every morning. We can practically hear a bell ringing and Clarence saying, “every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”

This Christmas, in the midst of all the busy preparations, take a deep breath, a quiet moment, and a good look around.  Our world is a troubled sad place for many this year, but it’s also full of stories of people and their kindness. Be your own special brand of Christmas magic this year. Even George Bailey realized it before it was too late: It really IS a wonderful life.

Have the Merriest of Christmases—Erin

Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.–Clarence

*I wrote two other posts about Dylon and his family here and here.

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