On the Beach (in the field, an old homestead or at the park)

Note: The end of the post relates to Asperger's

One thing that I discovered when I was younger was my love of silver and gold. Just the sheen that the metal has excites me. I used to gravitate towards the silver, gold and even copper crayons. Though not practical to color most things with they were always my favorite. When I was about ten I was on an Andover Youth Services trip to Good Times in Somerville, MA when it happened. I was getting some quarters out of the machine when I noticed one of them was a slightly different color than the others. Curiosity got the better of me and I kept it, not an easy thing for a kid that age to do. Upon turning home I gave it a further inspection and noticed the edge was missing the copper 'ring' present on most coins. I knew right then it was different. I showed it to Mom and she told me it was 90% silver. I was amazed, to say the least. I'd flick it up and down only to hear the sweet ping that it made, easily recognizable from a distance.

I knew I would like to have more of these coins but didn't really know how. The seeds I planted then would wake up a couple years later when I would happen upon an add for White's metal detectors two years later. I was fascinated by them. I begged Dad to buy me one and after renting a cheap one he finally gave in, purchasing a used White's Spectrum XLT for $525. Probably the best investment he ever made. He would take to to houses he was buying and I would hunt in the yard. My first silver coin, coincidently, was a quarter dated 1942 in decent shape. The color of silver when it leaves the ground is usually a distinct whitish-gray, fairly obvious even to a first timer. I ran up to find Dad and popped the coin in his hand. He was just as surprised as I was.

Over the next 12 years, and still continuing until this day (and probably until I can't walk anymore) I have hunted parks, beaches and homesites and everywhere in between. I have found thousands in coins, jewelry and collectibles. My biggest find came at a beach with my water machine, the White's Surf PI Pro, in the form of a diamond wedding set. It appraised at over $5,000. I also got listed in two magazines for my find. The first was the Western and Eastern Treasures annual best finds issue and Silver & Gold, which is an annual for stories related to the best finds of the year. My article had pictures and was around four pages long.

I have also helped a lot of people with the hobby. Many come up to me on the beach and ask me to find things for them, which I do free of charge, although most throw a few bucks at me anyways. I have returned a couple class rings and one I currently have from the Class of 1969 in Ohio that I am working with a newspaper and trying to find the owner. I'd appreciate if they would hurry up, because its melt value is around $150, which I could use right now. In fact last time out in a park last Friday the 18th I found a nice 14k wedding band worth $100 scrap gold. Not bad for two hours of fun in the sun.

So what does this have to do with AS? Well, everything really. In many ways this is the perfect hobby for me. Outside, exercise, around people, reading and understanding electronics and patterns and changing situations. All of that and it is very challenging and gives you respect for both public and private property. My machine is like an extension of my arm when I'm out there. Every little nuance I process and determine what it means. True, I have an expensive ($1,000) and advanced machine but I also had to learn how to use it properly. Put plainly, I'm very good. Even on the beach with my water machine the guy following behind me said "You don't miss much, do you?" with a smile on his face. "Nope, I sure don't" was my reply.

When I was younger at the beach I would first start away from the people and walk towards them. This let them see me and then they would go back to what they were doing. That or walk over and talk to me. I usually keep my sunglasses on to avoid their eye contact. I don't give too much info away and don't show finds off to them. This can make it so you get taken by them, or someone else overhearing the story of the find and its key elements. (this has been done by scammers who describe the item perfectly then run away with it, although I haven't been that kind of victim. I only show to the other hunters out there. I sometimes wish the people would go away. I can nearly meditate when I'm out there, only stopping to recheck a signal or dig a hole, which I fill in afterwards, don't worry ;). It's an alone hobby unless you have a hunting buddy or belong to a club, which I do not.

All the discipline and learning my machines have paid off for me, in more ways than one. After digging 30 pull tabs you want to give up, but hope allows you to press on. When that silver or gold does come up it makes it all worthwhile. Sometimes I spend 6-8 hours on the beach, which all depends on the tides and what I'm finding.

I don't always find what I want to but I ALWAYS find something worthwhile.

@ The Barber (What friends are for)

While I was attending school at Umass Lowell I lived in the Boott Mills, not far from campus. Outside there was a barber shop called Salon 22 that I would always walk by but never enter. I got my haircuts at a different place. I finally decided to stroll in when I had about four months left at the apartment. I'm glad I did. I met Moreno. He is Dominican and resembles Mr. Sandman from Punchout! He probably gave me the best, cheapest haircut (%15) I ever had. Even my roommate said it look better than ever. Needless to say, I went back. I would always give him $20 just because it ended up looking good and Moreno took the extra care to do so. It was about a forty five minute process which began with the buzzer and scissors and ended with a manual shaving razor that Moreno would carefully trim with, getting all the details just right. My type of person. Him and I would talk and he would show me videos like Silent Library on his phone. Always a joy when I went in there.

More recently he was fired, for no reason, by the salon. He and the others guys were like brothers for seven years. Then it ended abruptly. They wouldn't even give him the client list. Luckily I had Moreno's card and gave him a call, and at that time he explained what had happened. He said that he was now at a place where he could take his clients, very few at this point. He gave me the address and I went to it. It was an OK place, mainly a female salon where he was the only man there, but that is what he needed to do. I would get a couple of cuts there and he told me his plans to have his own shop. I was excited for him and told him I wanted to be the first customer, well I insisted upon it. Each time I came back he would show me the progress he was making towards designs for the new place. I would text him and ask when it was opening, "a couple weeks" was always the response.

Last week I asked once again and he told me that I could come to the new place on Monday, 21st, which Monday is his off day. I found the place and it was very close to where I used to live, (stones throw from Salon 22) but not quite done. I waited for five minutes and he was there at 2pm. He unlocked the door and told me to wait a couple minutes while he got ready. I took a look/walk around as he did so and told him it looked good. He didn't even have a sign outside yet. Moreno said he was actually a little nervous about the new environment, not for the business itself, but because he hadn't cut hair there before. I laughed when he said this and so did he.

Right after the first snip he called his wife and she gave him a big congratulations over the phone. We then talked about his plans for the new place and how he had been working every weekend to renovate and find equipment. His idea is very solid. Before I left I pulled out my wallet and he shook his head. I half expected this but continued to pull out the dollar that I had already inscribed something to the effect of "You skill with your array of hair sculpting tools and fierce customer loyalty will keep you successful". I also signed my name and he had me put the date on the bill as he took a couple pictured on his phone.

The thing is he was the only barber at Salon 22 that I would let touch my hair. Sometimes I would wait an hour, with an appointment mind you, for him to see me. He knew this well. My loyalty to my friends goes very far to anyone that has done well by me, and exactly the opposite to those who have done me wrong. When I told him I wanted to be first Moreno understood, and also wanted the same thing. This is what friends are for.

His shop will not open for another couple of weeks and he did it as a friendly gesture to me, which I will never forget. Sounds like a good start to @ The Barber by Moreno if you ask me.

My Jewelry Workshop

Every since I can remember I have loved jewelry. Just the look feel and weight get me every time. If you wear anything fake around me, I can tell. While at Worcester Academy it took on a whole new meaning. I had to do a senior project to get a diploma (we paid enough for one year so it sounded like a good deal) and they told me I could do anything I wanted. I talked to one of the teachers, Ms. Van Hooern, and she gave me the proper resources. This wasn't going to be about stringing beads or anything. This was seat of your pants alloying, melting and fabricating with an acetylene torch. It all went well enough to get a diploma, but it didn't stop there.

Over then next couple of years I would go on to experiment for many countless hours in my workshop. I started by making less complicated rings and cuff bracelets. I felt I needed more of a challenge and looked at the DVD I had ordered on how to construct a twisted curb ID bracelet. It was about a two hour video and I watched it a couple times. Using this newfound knowledge I went back in the workshop and built the thing from scratch in about four hours. It was challenging at times but a very worthwhile lesson.

I feel calm in the workshop. Sure I'm working with fire, up to 4,500F at times, but its a very relaxing experience. Some days I would spend six or seven hours out there, toiling away. It could be the whole isolation thing or controlling something, fire, that I never thought I could. It may be the way imagination flows or the excitement I get from discovering how to make a new design. I would take the time to show whoever was interested in how it all worked, naturally. No one really had time to see a project through the end but they got the gist of it.

In spring of 2008 I had shoulder surgery to repair my labrum that I tore playing baseball while at Umass Lowell. My mom eventually moved and I had to pack up the workshop indefinitely. But things have not changed. The seed of creativity that I planted then still waits for a time when it can blossom once again. That time is near as my dad is moving and building me a workshop in his basement. I have recently obtained plenty of silver, in a variety of different forms, as well as a nice 5 gram bar of 24k pure gold. All my tools seem intact and all I need is another tank of fuel for the torch and to re-order some consumable items that may have expired.

One of the first things I make is going to be a 14k or 18k ring with a small square of blue gold in the middle. Blue is the Asperger color. It won't be easy to make, especially the blue gold alloying part, but it will be worth it. I'll have to first make a sample out of sterling silver because I don't want to screw up on gold. That would be an expensive mistake. I will be sure to put up pictures when it is done but that is about a month away and the house isn't done yet.

In the mean time you can see some of my old basic work on Webshots http://community.webshots.com/user/preciousmetalman or the better stuff, how to make a nicer ring or the ID chain by first friending me on Facebook and checking my photo albums.

The Fighting Word

Having been bullied by inconsiderate people all my life I have developed a tough skin. I already wrote about it in one of the chapters of my book (which is still a work in progress). I have been called every name in the book. I can pretty much handle anything you call me; except for one specific word. People say this word all the time but don't really know what it means. I'm talking about the 'R' word. I can deal with people saying it around me, because it is going to happen and, while I'm not fine with it, I can let it slide.

If you were though, hypothetically, to direct it towards me then, well, you've just opened up a can of worms my friend. Based on the context you used it in I can usually tell whether you mean it or not. At this time I will give you a look. If you say anything that reinforces what you said before please be prepared for verbal abuse. If I know you I will use everything I know against you in an effort to try to prove your previous comment correct. By saying this word to me you think I don't know right from wrong or have feelings or a conscience or any mental capacity at all. At this point I do not. I will turn the language control area of my brain off and use what I feel is just. Keep in mind that I can be heartless and my regular lack of emotion will still be what is outwardly present. If you happen to be a woman then, at this point, I have no problem with calling you the "you know what word". I would look you straight in the eye as I said it, too. You have disrespected me on the most sinister way possible and I feel that you deserve only the same. I will then ask you how you feel but not really care as to how you answer. I hope you are just as pissed off as I am.

That situation was all hypothetical, of course. This has never happened to me. If it ever did, you now know what would transpire.

My Thoughts on Being Adopted

My Mom was recently watching an episode of Oprah when Marie Osmond was on and talking about her son who had committed suicide. She sang a touching song that she had to try really hard and keep her composure through. She stopped and starting over, attempting to hold back her tears. A bunch of photos of him were shown as she sang. She also talked about it with Oprah. The thing that struck my mother was that, not once, did Marie say “My adopted son”. She always said “My son”, which is the way Marie, Mom and I, feel it should be.

Every March when my brother sister and I were younger we would have a party. Nothing too fancy, just a small present each. Our birthdays were in September and October. I vaguely remember it each year. I didn't really understand what it was for until it ceased to be. It was because we were all adopted from Colombia by our parents as children. I was only an infant when they went and got me. My brother and sister are biologically alike, each having the same mother and father. I came along a couple years later. I was more of the luckier one, although I do not feel like revealing the details of just how much at this time.

My siblings and I all have no doubt that our parents love us, although it cannot be said for sure which set did so more. In fact, it is impossible to judge that love on any scale. While one set had the courage to give us up, the other had the courage to take us in. There was obviously a lot of love on both sides of the equation. I know this not by experience, but because having, then giving a child away for a chance at something better is nothing to take lightly; while taking one in is one in the same.

As children, none of us had any say on the issue. We accepted it because we had to. I do not mean this in a bad way. We all turned out fine and I’m sure it was the best thing that could have happened to any of us. I myself could not imagine what life would have been like had I stayed in Colombia. I cannot say it would have been bad or good, just different.

More recently my Mom has discussed whether or not if we, individually, wanted to find out birth parents, should the still be alive. I was for it, along with my sister. My brother is totally against it for some reason.

Mom asked me how I would feel if my biological parents were either against meeting me or told me that they did not love me, and that is the reason they decided to give me up. I gave her my response;

“I would be fine with them if they liked me and just the same if they did not. Either way, I have you and Dad already. That is all I could ever ask for”.

Sun Glasses to the Supermarket

Pretty much every time I go to the supermarket I wear sunglasses. The eye contact I make with people is lessened when I have them on. They act as a shield for me both to, and from, everyone else. I don't like them to see my eyes because often times in public I have sort of a zombie eyed appearance that I don't want them to see. I feel like they may be freaked out if they were to look at me. As I have said earlier posts it is not an inviting gaze I put on when in public. This all depends on my mood, of course. When I am shopping for food it tends to be longer than usual and my discomfort can grow as time wears on. A better safe than sorry approach is my standard M.O. My facial expression is usually minimal so having my eyes hidden allows me to blend in. Shopping at a time when it is still light outside gives me a built in excuse.

I am only talking about this because I left my sunglasses in the car while shopping today and wish I had walked back to retrieve them before I was swallowed up by the place, and its vast array of light and other sensory overload.

The Observationist

There are things that you may notice that other people do not. It may be something wrong or right with the world that you just sort of see. I'm not really talking about the arrow in the FedEx logo here. I'm talking about solutions to everyday problems or ideas that could be useful in everyday life. Sort of like an inventors mindset if you will. The ability to problem solve not by using sheer brain power, but the ability to stick with things long after others have given up. You feel inside yourself that you see the world differently.

I would always stare up at my ceiling at the spatula work they had done to coat it. I would always see little shapes or figures, mainly faces that I would be tempted to color or outline. This wouldn't have done well with the parents. I'd show them to people but they just wouldn't see what I was going for. I guess not everyone sees that same shape in the cloud their friend is also observing.

You can't explain it to anybody else for fear they might send you away. Even so, it’s not that kind of odd. Even as a child I constantly told my father that I was different but could not figure out why. Maybe it was because I was adopted I thought. Maybe it was due to some of my unique experiences, as everyone else surely has. I'd come to learn when I was 16 and took a test for autism that it was most likely the case, although I wouldn't realize that until a few years later.

You may find that your Aspy kids have a similar ability. That is a good thing. They will see things you may miss. Every once in a while the seemingly trivial things they point out may be more than just that. Pay attention to them and don't write them off as just childish thoughts. You just might thank yourself for doing so later on.

I find it funny and a little ironic that I can see things others cannot but miss the basic social cues that other take for granted. To have something you have to give up something else. That's just the way it works. At least that's what I think. Who knows, maybe I'm missing something here.