Comic Relief

Matt loves comedy. He loves watching videos, cartoons and TV shows that depict people falling, getting hit unexpectedly, running into immovable objects and the like. It’s difficult for me to pinpoint a start date on his sense of humor. Was it always a part of him? I have thought hard about this. When I think about his first autistic year, just after age 2, I remember it was the loss of his smile and the sound of his laughter that bothered me most. I remember making sure that every time he saw my face - each quick, fleeting glance toward me - he saw me smile. I laugh easy, and I smile easy so making sure he saw me smile was never forced, just bigger and brighter.

I can remember him laughing at age 3 when I played airplane with him. Taking him by his hand and foot, I would swing him around and around, alternating going higher with nose dives. He loved being spun. Whirling around always made his head tip back slightly as if he were allowing pure joy to flow over him.

The return of his laughter was his first communication attempt after autism set in. Its return after a year of absence was a much welcome sound and very contagious. When he laughed we laughed. At first it seemed as though he needed reassurance of his emotion and would check faces to see if they were smiling too. Was he trying to gauge if we were safe to be around or if laughing was acceptable? His sense of humor began a few years later after he discovered video tapes.

We were unable to pick up basic TV channels in our rural mountain home. Every channel hissed with “snow”, except one. That one channel was much too fuzzy to watch for very long without getting a headache. How did we survive this lack of technology? We bought a VCR and video tapes – lots and lots of video tapes. We had a pretty good collection of cartoon shows on tape and Matt would watch his favorites over and over (and over and over). It wasn’t long before he also showed an interest in comedies too, especially the type that had a 3 Stooges theme of hitting, falling down, and exaggerated facial expressions.

Sometimes he would creep to the living room where his brother would be watching a tape and although he wouldn’t sit down with him, he stayed in the room, orbiting the perimeter, and laughed along with him. His need to mimic what he saw and heard affected both his speech and behavior. His speech began including strange sound effects, like “boink” and “wham” and “Whoa” New behaviors took on a comedic tone, like pretending to trip, or hit his head. He experimented with these routines in the safety of his room and on occasion would test them on us. After “falling” with exaggerated arm gestures he would look in our direction to see if his new stunt brought the same smiles or laughter that the cartoons and comedies did. It did.

His first interaction with the family poker night at Thanksgiving was one of these routines. Matt was 10 years old. We had set-up after dinner as usual and invited Matt to join us. He replied with a short “No thanks” and sought the quiet and safety of his room as he did every year. But this year was different. Tom had a new video camera and we decided to video our game. Matt was intrigued. He would pop out of his room, check the camera, and then pop back into his room. He did this several times. I kept watching him, trying to figure out what he was up to.

The game went long into the night. There was laughter and teasing and conversation – all of which Matt could hear from his room. We were discussing the need to take a much needed break, stretch our legs and dig into some left over turkey. The video camera continued to film. Just before everyone pushed back their chairs, out came Matt. He walked right past the camera and directly into the kitchen like a man on a mission. He kept going and walked straight into the back door, bounced a bit backward, made a few exaggerated arm gestures, then fell hard to the floor. He fell so fast we were taken aback - did he really just do that? The five of us just stared for a moment - then suddenly burst into laughter. There were a few “Are you alright?” questions, but we all knew he was acting. His smile said it all.

How long had he been planning this? Did he think about it as Tom set up the video camera? Was all that popping in and out of his room actually to check the viewfinder? After all, he needed to know the exact path to keep him on camera. Matt, it seems, had calculated everything. He even waited for a break in the game so everyone would see.

Matt wanted to be involved, but did not have the complex communication skills to just jump in. He needed to test the waters, see if we were safe to be around. His comedy routine was his way of testing us. When we laughed, he smiled. There were pats on the back, giggles and attention directly on him and he loved it. Unfortunately, he could only deal with all this attention a short while before returning to his room, but I assure you he left pleased with his work.

Even though Matt can now communicate very well he still enjoys providing us with comic relief. He reveals his sense of humor daily and spontaneously in both his speech and behavior. And when the need arises, he will use it to communicate when he can’t quite find another way to interact. His smiles draw people to him and his humor keeps them there.

When Matt is happy and joking around with the people he loves, it is the autism that is hidden. All we see is Matt, just Matt.