Just in the last few years myself and my only child, now middle-aged himself, have realized that we are on the autism spectrum. And probably ADHD as well. Neither of us have been clinically diagnosed, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be hard to do. It has certainly provided a missing piece of life’s puzzle for me.

My son and I enjoy watching certain slow moving television shows together. One of our favorites was The Detectorists, arguably one of the best television shows ever written and produced. Absolutely brilliant. It’s 3 seasons and one Christmas movie ( “why not more? she cries!” ) It is poignant, irritating, and hilarious. With a little mysticism mixed in for intrigue. As fans will attest, there is some magical ingredient that made us fall in love with life while watching; your heart can’t not open. All the characters are fabulously quirky, but the main character seems obviously autistic, and he is clairaudient. He thinks he needs a metal detector, when in fact he is the detector. Our kinda show.

So I wasn’t at all surprised when my son bought himself a metal detector and began exploring the local beaches. It’s only been a few short months, and nothing much as of yet…just a bunch of pull tabs and washers. What is up with all the washers? Then I found Annie Lighthart and she explained why she always has a washer in her pocket:

“If I have helped one fainting robin unto it’s nest again, I have not lived in vain.” – Emily Dickinson