As an undiagnosed, autistic, teenager I couldn’t find love even when it grabbed me and kissed me. Or, at any rate, I couldn’t keep it. I was a true Peter Pumpkin Eater. After a few hours, or days, or weeks, whoever came looking for love in this wrong place would lose interest, or feel rejected, and look elsewhere.
And yet, despite my lack of success, I always had hope—and always expected that I would find love or that it would find me.
Looking back I credit my parents and my family. We were a dysfunctional crew, drenched in alcohol, but we were creative, smart, interesting, interested, and accepting. My six older siblings provided built-in playmates, my mother provided constant encouragement, and the whole family—even a dad who lost his way due to alcoholism—provided love. It was the first thing I told each of my two therapists when I sought help understanding why my youthful life was so different: that I was loved as a child and knew it.
Which means I knew that I was lovable. What a gift for an autistic child.
In my book, My So-Called Disorder: Autism, Exploding Trucks, and the Big Daddy of Rock and Roll, I quote some of the songs I wrote as a teenager, pointing out that most of them are very “autistic.” When I bought a new electric guitar a few years ago it inspired me to write a song that celebrated the guitar and all of my other special interests (stars, telescopes, Chuck Berry and the blues) and also the love that eventually found me when I knew how to hold on: my wife, my grown children, and my granddaughter.
As a child I lusted for
Those old Silvertone guitars.
I used to lie outside in the dark and wonder
At the mystery of the stars
I played the same kinds of records then
That I listen to today
And even then I knew in my heart
I’d be with you someday
Didn’t know what you’d look like
Didn’t know how you’d sound
Just knew life was better when
You were around
I had more hopes and wishes then
Than I have today
Cause a lot of them were granted when
You came walking my way
Life’s full of mystery
Life can be so hard
The people we love are lost
You can be dealt an awfully difficult card
There are times when life is full of joy
And then such deep despair
But I can make it through it all
As long as you are there
The stars are harder to see these days
Washed out by all those city lights
My guitar was made in Indonesia
But it looks and sounds just right
About to hit the road again
Memphis, Clarksdale and St. Lou
Sitting on the banks of the great Mississippi River
I’ll play this song for you
c. Peter O’Neil
I wrote the song about my wife, Rebecca and my Indonesian copy cat Silvertone but I immediately saw that it applied to my children as well. We never know what our loves will look or sound like, but like a copy-cat Indonesian Silvertone, they make life better.
Having studied what it means to be autistic for a few years now I realize how lucky I was lucky to have a family who loved and supported me, and a mom who encouraged my many, many quirky interests, and fought for me whenever she saw some injustice.