Bellows and Barbaric Yawps at The Rainforest Cafe

I had long-imagined that Mark would find his voice in a scary, confusing world, but I never pictured his burst of self-expression resulting from a scientific breakthrough, a miracle, or an alternative remedy. Instead, I daydreamed it coming in the form of a barbaric yawp. Think Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” poem and the Dead Poets Society film.

And it kinda sorta did.

When Mark was nine, as we walked into the mall, he started acting clingy, stubborn, and odd. John and I grew frustrated that he would not move. Rather than cave in and leave or force him to walk, John, like the famous teacher Mr. Keating in the movie, lovingly but firmly asked and expected a response to what was wrong. 

We waited for a couple minutes.

Eventually, Mark — like Todd in the movie — surprised everyone, including himself, when he loudly and clearly articulated, “The alligator!” We were not used to hearing four-syllable words out of him. 

Mark was fascinated but also terrified by the loud, realistic-looking alligator at the entrance to The Rainforest Cafe. 

John and I hugged Mark and walked the mall with him in the opposite direction. We reduced our words to help him relax.

Mark reduced his words as well. He said nothing else that day and little the next, or the next.

There may never be a barbaric yawp that moves Mark from a quiet, soft-spoken guy to a confident speaker, but I believe if we nudge him outside his comfort zone from time to time, guide him, and give him the time and the freedom to express himself, the words and the emotions will continue to come. 

The sounds of that alligator, which are normally deafening, seemed like whispers that day compared to the voice of our boy.