Originally posted on Facebook, July 12, 2013.
Snowboarding is a world utterly foreign to me, but I'm intimately acquainted with Down syndrome.
Snowboarding is a world utterly foreign to me, but I'm intimately acquainted with Down syndrome.My son, Nick, has Down's, and his very life is a window on a world of freedom and joy that I'll never know—except through him. Thank God he's here.
I was reminded of that when I read Dorothy Rabinowitz' WSJ review of The Crash Reel, a documentary about snowboarder Kevin Pearce, his brain injury, and his recovery.
Kevin's story sounds compelling in itself, but what especially struck me was the portrait presented of Kevin's family—especially his brother, David:
David is a riveting presence. He's the family's Down syndrome child, now a young man—urgent, full of passion for his adored athlete brother, the raw voice of anguish over Kevin's accident that the other members of the family try to contain in themselves.This is what we parents of Down's kids know; it's what the world that aborts them at a rate of 9 out of 10 needs to hear.
Is Down's a piece of cake? No. Here's more from the Pearces:
Mia, Kevin's mother, recalls her initial fear—soon dispatched—that she might not be able to deal with a Down syndrome child. David, that child now nearly a man, reveals details of the unhappiness he feels when he thinks about his condition, a description impressive in its eloquence.Unhappiness about his condition, but better off dead? Hardly. Life is hard and filled with challenges, but killing to eliminate challenges not only doesn't work—it's terribly, painfully counterproductive. Sometimes, more often than not, the very challenges we wish to avoid turn out to be priceless opportunities that lead to new life. We just can't see it yet.
And when it comes to Down syndrome in particular? I pray for a world that, like Mia Pearce, will dispatch fear instead of persons.
