This Moment Made Possible by Bob Marley

Sometimes, echolalia was a gift. At age four, Neil didn’t have his own spontaneous speech, but he could occasionally parrot back phrases he deemed important. Once in a while when I said, “I love you,” he would say, “I yuh vooo” right afterward. And I treasured that phrase and held onto it. Because when the echolalia stopped and the delayed echolalia (or scripting) began, I never heard it again. Once, when he was 14 and saying goodbye before visiting his dad, he said it. But every other time when I would tell him I loved him, he would say, “Same to you.” When I dropped him off at school for years, and then when he started riding his bike in high school and walked out the front door in the mornings, and I said, “I love you,” he said – often irritated – “Same to you.” I wondered if this was the best that I could hope for.

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A lifelong lover of movies, Neil’s favorite music includes many movie soundtracks. His first love was probably The Tigger Movie soundtrack. Then he got into Van Halen because of Twister. And he likes Huey Lewis because of Back to the Future. And there were others. But during long road trips going back and forth to visit his dad, we listened to other things in the car besides movie soundtracks (mostly to save my sanity). Of the classic rock and assorted ‘80s tunes I subjected my children to, it was determined that they both really liked CCR, AC/DC, and Bob Marley.

Their collective enjoyment of CCR, bordering on obsession (wanting to play it every time we got in the car), motivated me to take them to their first concert when the revised band came to play locally. And, given all the preparations I made, it was a resounding success. I hoped at some point another band that Neil might like would come to our little corner of the Pacific Northwest. But I never thought it would be The Wailers!

Over the years, Bob Marley’s music has been a sort of cornerstone for Neil. It soothed him on road trips and it helped him to calm down when his behavior escalated. It eased him to sleep at night. And it made him think about peace and love. So when I found out that The Wailers were coming to our area for one night, I asked Neil if he wanted to go. He said, “Yes, yes, I would be interested to see The Wailers.” I explained that there would be an opening band, and that I didn’t know how many of Bob’s songs The Wailers would perform, and he said that was okay.

That night, he remembered on his own to bring ear plugs, he waited patiently in line (although making a small scene about some second-hand smoke, exclaiming in a loud voice, “I don’t want cancer!” at which point we moved), and once we got inside, he found an area at the back of the building that was removed from the crowd, and that’s where we stayed.

The Wailers looked and sounded really good, but they weren’t doing any of Bob’s songs. And Neil handled it very well, still standing and clapping and not complaining. They played for about 45 minutes and then left the stage, so we weren’t sure if they were finished. After three full minutes of cheering, the singer and one guitarist came back onstage for what we hoped was an encore (especially a Bob song). And they did “Redemption Song,” and Neil’s face lit up with mine, and we sang along. The lead singer appeared to be in his thirties, and I couldn’t believe how much his voice sounded like Bob’s; it was haunting, really, and so beautiful. After that song, the rest of the band came back out, and they did an entire second set of just Bob songs! Neil loved it and actually danced (which looked a bit like marching) and waved his arms in the air. Near the end of the show they did an extended version of “Exodus,” and Neil emphatically punched the air (almost) in time with the singer. This night was another gift, and I was so happy to have experienced it with him.

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We got home close to midnight and washed up for bed. I did have to prompt Neil to thank me for taking him to the show, but then something unprompted happened. I said, “You’re welcome, I’m glad that we got to go and you enjoyed it. I love you.” And because this is real life, not Hollywood, he didn’t change what he always says. But he changed how he said it. He paused, looked me in the eye, smiled, and with more feeling, more sincerity than I’ve ever heard before, said, “Same to you.” I got it. I felt it. He was really saying I love you too, Mom, the best way that he could.

Thanks, Bob. And thank you too, Neil.