A Picture of Dominique

"Dominique is autistic," her mom told me over the phone. Just the word "autistic" is enough to scare any parent. You imagine your own child, inexplicably withdrawing from life. No more chatting and laughing. No more listening and remembering. They move deeper and deeper into a world of their own. More often than not, they never return.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can imagine how hard that must be." "She's a wonderful child. I'm her mother. I love her unconditionally."

Lucky child, I thought. I was on the phone out of curiosity. Debbie, my administrative assistant, had walked to my desk and said that a mom had called. Her little girl was autistic, but after listening to one of my story tapes, she was speaking.

Bells went off in my head. Sure, my recordings are designed to stimulate kids' imaginations, to draw them away from screen life, but this? This was too much to believe.

So I'd called the number. Dominique's mom answered and we talked. Dominique had been diagnosed with autism at age five. Her parents had tried everything, she said. Oddly enough, the presence of two kittens did more to draw her daughter out than anything up to that point. Dominique began to react. Unwilling to give up, her mother conversed with her constantly, and read aloud. And even though Dominique never said anything, her mother kept on pouring words and love into her little girl.

Finally, at age six and a half, Dominique had a breakthrough. She called her mother "mom" for the first time. Encouraged, her mother continued to read aloud. Then, eight months ago, this brave mother developed an eye infection. Reading aloud became impossible. So, according to her letter, which I received about a week ago, her sister sent her a copy of The Adventures of Little Proto: A Musical Dinosaur Story--a recording of mine, favored by the younger set. It's warm, fuzzy and adventurous. It has songs.

"I put it in the machine," wrote Dominique's mom, "and it was magical. Her eyes light up with wonder and she is focused on every word and sound... she's more bold, talkative, and she's great..."

She even sent me a photo. Dominique is a beautiful child. She's smiling at the camera. I like to think that the woman who never gave up was standing behind it, still talking to her beloved child, when she snapped the Polaroid. I have it on my desk.

In my business, I don't tell very many true stories. But this is one.

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