“In the city or near cars he has to be closely supervised and monitored. On the farm he walks far ahead and makes his way on ground that is safe and kind to him.”
Thomas at work at Common Roots Farm in Santa Cruz, California.
By Sarah Fairchild
A Feeling of Belonging. Unconditional Support. Being Seen and Accepted. We all strive to have these elements in our lives, and we passionately want them for our children. But when I consider a young adult like my Thomas, a handsome, wonderful young man with severe autism, I have always harbored a fear that these essential elements of life would be elusive.
Thomas is anxious, sensitive and wary. He is not able to have a conversation with words. He fixates on things like needing to wear the same shirt (or same few shirts) all the time. He wore red lobster pajamas for about 7 months and dramatically fretted each and every time he was separated from them for washing. He hates when almost any of his clothes have to be in the washer. While he’s waiting for the washer to finish he will rock on his feet and hold his fingers tightly, crushing his little pinky finger down sideways under all the other fingers in the same hand. He once pried a locked washer door open, bent the metal to get to his clothes. He can’t be without his water bottle, on which he taps, taps, taps all day and all night.
Don’t get me wrong, I don't think there is anything wrong with his attributes, but as he turned 18 and then 21 and he aged out of the school system and left his school-based community, I worried whether Thomas would find people to be his community, and I didn’t think he wanted to be alone. Then he found Common Roots Farm.
Thomas started volunteering at Common Roots Farm in Santa Cruz, California about four years ago, before there were crop rows or raised beds. He started at the beginning when the farm needed his strong body to move soil around. He began doing work like shoveling and pushing a wheelbarrow, and it was great. He was good at these things! He liked the predictability of the expectations and how he could do the work independently. When he got tired and wanted to gallop around (he gallops more than runs) while shouting and making shrill noises, it was OK. He was not expected to be anything but who he was. He liked that. No shaming. No sideways glances, just “Hi Thomas, happy to see you” as he whizzed by.
As the crops got situated and fences got put in, Thomas found new work. The inclusion specialist helped him learn how to cut plant debris into smaller pieces for better composting, and he focused on it for hours at a time, and was proud of his accomplishments! He has taken on watering, harvesting tomatoes, and hauling weeds. As years have gone by, he now knows the farm, he feels comfortable there. He feels wanted, and understood there.
New crops sprouting at Common Roots Farm.
In the city or near cars he has to be closely supervised and monitored. On the farm he walks far ahead and makes his way on ground that is safe and kind to him. When other Common Roots Farm folk see Thomas, and say “Hi” to him, he gets a little grin but keeps on moving. Which is what feels right for him. He doesn’t feel comfortable stopping too much. And no one minds. In fact, they smile too. He’s accepted for who he is, and also cherished for the man he’s become. And for us both, it’s a tremendous blessing.
Sarah Fairchild and her son Thomas live in California. You can learn more about Common Roots Farm here. “At Common Roots Farm, people with and without disabilities can participate on our urban farm, taking care of plants and animals, and creating friendships with one another that sustain everyone.”