On the last eve of our family reunion in Maine, we all went to the Lobster Pound for dinner. The restaurant has two essential things going for it: the food’s really good and it’s the only place in town that seats a party of 32 during high tourist season, this with no reservation.

We had to wait for our tables for about 20 minutes— the optimal amount of time for the little ones to run around and tire themselves out and for the adults to start thinking about what they’d order. …

Hi there fellow mom,

I too have an autistic child, except he’s not a child anymore. His name’s Diego and he’s 27.

You’ll go through various stages when it comes to how you view your child and his autism. I’ve been through every stage in the book so I thought I’d share how it’s gone for me, at least up to now. I hope knowing what to expect will save you some anguish.

You’ll obsess about scores and tests, and pray that the gaps between below average and average will narrow. One day, you’ll realize testing serves only one purpose…

It just came to me the other day— a bold, simple and effective solution to stop the arrival of undocumented immigrants and to get the millions living in the U.S. to return to their countries of origin: to detain, jail, or exile American citizens and legal immigrants who benefit from undocumented immigrant labor.

Here’s a limited list of such Americans and legal immigrants:

• Those who hire undocumented immigrants to work in restaurants.
• Those who frequent restaurants where undocumented immigrants work.
• Those who hire undocumented people to work in meatpacking plants.
• Those who eat meat processed in plants that use undocumented…

Sandi entered the US in 2021 by jumping over a border wall in California. That was her third attempt to get here.

No, she didn’t wait in any «line» to get her papers to enter legally. That line doesn’t friggin’ exist for most people. I want to explode when people mention the line. As if Sandi were stupid and had a death wish. She would’ve stood for weeks in a line for Chrissakes, instead of risking her life in a grueling journey to get here.

As it is, her arrival wasn’t what you’d call auspicious. She injured her arm badly…

Reading this would be a great choice!

Hi there all you special people,

My autistic son Diego is a phenomenal teacher. Here are two lessons from him I’ve been pondering lately:

Why “I Didn’t Have Time’ Is Almost Never a Valid Excuse

Diego loves to pray. And though I’m not even sure I believe in God, I do believe in the power of prayer.

The Power of Prayer

Finally, I will take the liberty of sharing that Diego started a job at a cafe his father was very involved in making a reality. He’s super excited and suddenly turns serious at work. …

Diego, my 27-year-old autistic son, is the only person I know who never uses “I didn’t have time” as an excuse, rationalization, or explanation for what he does or does not do. Come to think of it, I’ve never even heard him say, “I’m so busy,” like the rest of us do way too often, half complaining, half showing off.

Somehow, Diego understands time differently than the rest of us mortals. I’d say he understands it better, as a weird dimension that’s relative in some ways and absolute in others.

All Time Is Not Felt Equally

I’m often bewildered by how Diego experiences time. He can…

I’m too rational to believe God intercedes when we invoke him in prayer. I mean, if I were to ask God, “Please, God, don’t let my son be one of the unnamed casualties from this shooting,” or, “Please, God, let my sister be one of the survivors in the crash,” he wouldn't go in and change the outcome, now would he?

Plus, I’d be praying to a pretty macabre God who’d be letting someone else die and their loved ones suffer just so he could answer my prayer. …

I live in a medium-sized upscale town with no visible homelessness, so I don’t often come across homeless people. When I do, though, my feelings register clearly.

And what do I feel? A mix of compassion, relief, and fear.

When I write homeless, I mean people you might see in the streets of big cities like New York, where I go now and again. Unless you’re chauffeured door to door in NYC and refrain from looking out the window, you will inevitably see a good many homeless individuals.

And who wouldn’t feel compassion for these humans sitting or lying on…