The freeze

Multiple site post here. First, my fiancé took an amazing video of the finish of the Indianapolis 500. You can view that here.

If you watched it to the end, you’ll see a long freeze at the end. I wish everyone that helped me become who I am could’ve experienced the joy, reflection, and gratitude I experienced in that moment. 

I’ll admit, I’m not the best at expressing emotions via spoken word. During the frantic race, all emotions were nonexistent as my focus was on the race at hand, and what a race it was! Wow!! Anyway, as the last car crossed the line to finish the race, and the job was over, emotions consumed me. 

Tears flowed almost instantly. I tried to comprehend the moment, but couldn’t. It still makes no sense that I achieved my life dream; to flag the Indianapolis 500. There are some dreams that are obtainable, and others that are such a long shot that if they come true no one would really believe that it did. That’s what this is, was, will forever be, and when realizing that, the emotions are raw.

I just finished writing a book that will certainly thank many of those people that got me there. Teachers, coworkers, and friends played a gigantic role. This is my story though. I’m sure many of you have done something monumental for a person on the autism spectrum and don’t even know it. Short term goals, growth, or perhaps a lifelong dream may have been made possible by a simple, or complex action. Whatever the case, when you see that freeze, realize that, even though it may not be spoken, there will be a moment where a person reflects back, and wishes they could thank you directly. 

Photos from the 500

 

Video Interview

 

The 500, My Dad, Always Has Been, Always Will Be

The sun is coming up over the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. It's carb day, and if you're unfamiliar with what  that is, it is the final practice before Sunday's 107th running of the Indianapolis 500. I'll be in the flag stand, displaying the flags for the race. My dream job. My 30th Indy 500 in person, and fourth working. There will be a big piece of my heart missing here though.

Two years ago, the crowd went into a frenzy as Helio Castroneves took the lead for the final time. The crowd was louder than the cars! The frenzied crowd wanted to see Helio join the four-time winners club of the 500, and as he flashed across the line under my checkered flags, he did. As the rest of the field crossed, and the last running car took the checkered, I looked over to the stands on the other side of the track where my dad was watching. He could see me a whole lot better than I could see him, but he was there, like he always has been.

I got a call during the GP week two weeks ago. It was my dad. He's been fighting a health issue and the doctor advised that he shouldn't come to the race. He was heartbroken, so was I. My earliest memories are of racing and dad. The two are inseparable. I can remember attending practice in 1987 and the cars were way too loud for my ears at the time as I wasn't prepared for the unfiltered sounds of those engines. He asked if I wanted to go home, but as bad as the sounds were, my love of the colors, smells, and speed were stronger than my sensory issues. The next time at the track, my dad made sure I had better ear protection. 

Racing and my dad... it's been a lifelong thing. I started racing karts in 1995, and we spent many weekends over the years at the track. He tried his best to get me into something bigger than karts, and we came close so many times, but driving wasn't in my calling. That being said, while I couldn't see my dad across the track, I could certainly feel the smile resonating from that section of the grandstand.

A misconception about those on the autism spectrum is that we lack empathy. This isn't the case, it's just that we have an extremely difficult time putting emotions into words. Perhaps this is why I'm writing this. I've known he won't be here on race day and... I'm okay with it. I didn't think I would be, but working practice, and then qualifying last weekend, I haven't felt him missing.

Each and every time I go under the tunnel into these most hallowed ground of the Speedway, I remember all the times he took me here after school. I remember coming to every day of the rain soaked 1997 running. I remember leaving my souvenirs in turn three after the extremely hot 2005 race. We were almost to 16th St when I remembered so that made for an extra-long walk. And, I'll never forget that he was there, in 2021, for my first double checkered of the 500.

My heart breaks for him, but I know he'll be watching with the rest of the world on television. This race is steeped in tradition, and this is just my story. Families have been coming to this race for generations and I wonder if others have this same sense of connection on race day. Perhaps race day morning will be different for me. I know I'll be a teary-eyed mess during Taps, and Back Home Again in Indiana, but come the command to start engines, I'll be game ready and focused. I'll look across the track and I'm sure there will be a little hole, but missing an event doesn't delete the memories of all the years prior. The feeling of a shared experience, the countless hours of travel, the early mornings at the track with my dad. No matter how or when, in my heart at the track he has always been with me, and always will be.

 

Engagement photos

 

Perhaps one of the more unique places you’ll ever see engagement photos. Seems fitting considering I proposed on a volcano. 

Always be your best

This was odd for me, but shows that we can be an advocate by just doing our best because we never know who will take notice. https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTREfpW2Q/?t=1

It’s Time to Qualify!

Perhaps my two favorite days in the flag stand begin tomorrow. It’s qualifying for the 107th Indianapolis 500! 

It’s difficult to describe to you just what this job means to me. If it looks like I’m enjoying myself as I display the flags, I am. It’s not just a level of enjoyment though, it is an all-consuming burning passion of my soul. 

Employment can be difficult for those with Asperger’s and it’s vital for us to try and find a job in our Kansas. I know it’s easy for me to say that now as I’ve got my dream job, but I’ve been saying this long before I landed my gig as a flagger for the NTT INDYCAR Series. 

If you tune into Peacock or NBC this weekend during the hours of qualifying, you might get a glimpse of me doing what I always wanted to do. I still can’t believe I have this honor, and I assure you I’ll be enjoying every second. 

Why I Wrote Finding Kansas

I now live by the motto, "Understanding is the foundation for hope." It wasn't always that way though...

Being diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome at the age of 20 was confusing. I mean, I had this diagnosis but didn't know what it meant and sadly, neither did my doctor. I was left to find out what it meant by myself so I did an internet search and the first thing I read, the very first thing I read said, "People with Asperger Syndrome will NEVER have a job, NEVER have friends and NEVER be happy." 

After reading those lines it was as if my life ended. I instantly believed those words and tuned all other information about Asperger Syndrome out. I didn't believe there was hope and I slowly retreated from the world. I don't think anyone knew just how depressed I was because I never talked about my emotions.

I stayed this way for almost 15 months. I was bitter, hopeless, and angry at everything. Sometimes my dad would say, "I understand." but how could he? Then, 15 months after being diagnosed, I had had enough. I don't know what fuse blew in my mind, but I had to tell my dad who I was and why I was. Of course, I couldn't speak it, but I went to my computer and I started to write it. 

There's a line in my book that says, "All I want is for someone to understand and maybe, just maybe, I will be free." That was the motivation for me to write and I never intended on it being a book that got published. All I wanted was for one person to understand who I was. I also didn't intend on creating a new vocabulary to describe the ways of the autism spectrum as I just wanted to describe to my dad in the best way possible the reasons why I do what I do.

My book is a journey through my thoughts and is at times sad, at times funny, at times hopeful, and most times emotional. As I was writing, I heard a speaker say that, "People on the autism spectrum don't have emotions," and that too was a big motivator for me to continue to write because I knew that I had never heard a bigger lie in my life. We have emotions, maybe more emotions than someone that is "normal," but we have the hardest of times processing it and then expressing it. I was like that my entire life until I discovered writing.

As I said, when I was writing Finding Kansas I never thought it would be something that would bring hope and understanding. From where I am now, I believe that we can have the highest autism awareness level possible and that still won't be enough because without understanding how can society know what it is? Without understanding how can parents make the right choices? This was the sole reason why I wrote. Nobody understood me and I couldn't speak what I thought or what I needed so I wrote to be understood and words can't express what it means to be when I hear from parents that, "through your book I now understand my son."

Finding Kansas available at Amazon.com and other book sellers.

Even When You're Right, You Can Be Wrong

One of the hardest and most complex things I've learned has been the fact that there are times that, even when one is right, they can be wrong. 

In 2008 I worked my first true national race and I was rather nervous. I had been used to flagging and race directing local or regional events and something of this scope was new. Also, I was just the flagger so the decision-making responsibility did not weigh on my shoulders. I still had a bit of wanting that control and on the final day there was an incident that stopped the race on lap 3.

Usually, the rule is if the race is stopped on lap one it is a complete restart. After lap one it'll be a single file restart with the line up being how they were running before the race was stopped. I was lingering around the race director and parents, crew members, and drivers were wanting an answer on how the race would be restarted and the race director was just being screamed at by all parties and eventually he made the choice to complete restart. But this was wrong, wasn't it? One complete lap had been completed, in fact a couple were therefore how could we go back to the beginning? After all who were screaming at him left I asked, "Complete restart, how does that work?" and the response I got was a bunch of words that aren't fit for my blog.

What had happened? I was right, right? The way I understood the rule we were making a mistake, but when I questioned the person whose decision goes I became just another one of those people who were complaining about everything. I was right, but it wasn't my call to make. Later on, the race director apologized for snapping at me, but I understood how he got so riled up because I was there to back him up and not to question his decision.

That was a defining moment in my life. That may sound like I'm trivializing many other events in my life, but after that day I realized that there are times that being right is irrelevant. At races now when a decision is made, I will put in my opinion if I know I am right, but I won't push it because once the director has made a decision that's the way it is. I'd also say this was one of the hardest lessons I've ever learned because I used to be under the code of, "right is right regardless of anything else" meaning that I would argue with any person at any time if I knew I was right, and they were wrong. Thankfully, I learned that one can be right and wrong at the same time and I still will push my belief on a call, but if I am denied I don't take offense to it, I don't go off on a tantrum, and I will carry out the call that was made because in the end I am the messenger with the flags, not the one who makes the calls.