When my tweet about Gus Walz's appearance at the DNC last week went viral, an editor at men's magazine reached out asking me if I would write a piece about my reaction. They decided not to post it (for a fairly bizarre reason), but I didn't want this piece to go unpublished.
I am not an extreme political partisan, but I am a political junkie. And given that my wife and son are not, it’s not surprising that when Minnesota Governor Tim Walz gave his speech to the DNC last Wednesday night, I was sitting by myself watching it unfold.
What I didn’t expect was that I would begin to cry. There was that now-iconic moment in the speech when Walz talked about how his wife and two children meant the world to him. As the cameras cut down his family, viewers could see the 17-year-old Gus Walz, tears streaming down his face, as he stood and pointed to the stage, yelling “That’s my Dad!, that’s Dad!” And at that moment, I melted into a puddle and began crying along with Gus.
I also randomly posted something on Twitter/X, which went viral overnight in a way I certainly wasn’t expecting. Believe me, when Mark Hamill retweets you, you’ve reached another level of online notoriety.
Gus Walz has ADHD, an anxiety disorder, and a non-verbal learning disorder. Our teenage son Sam also has ADHD and an anxiety disorder, and he is also on the autism spectrum. So it was impossible to see that reaction from Gus Walz and not think about my son and how he would feel in that moment.
I understand in the abstract that autism probably doesn't have a direct genetic link. But when my son Sam was born nineteen years ago, I worried that some aspect of autism would show up in his behavior. Not because it was some failure, but because I have a nephew who is autistic and I’ve seen how difficult that has been for him.
I wanted to protect my son from the pain I was afraid was headed his way.
By the time Sam was three, it was clear that he faced some challenges. He just seemed "off" in a way that was difficult to define. He didn't react in the way you might expect when faced with an unknown social situation. He sometimes stared off in an oddly lost way even when he was in a crowd. When we had him screened by the local school district, they suspected he had autism. The woman who screened him pointed out something we had never noticed. While he played with his friends, he played next to them. Not with them.
I stayed strong throughout the day, assuring my wife and everyone else that Sam would be fine. Then I would sit on the floor at night next to his bed and cry. Not because I feared Sam wouldn't have a normal life. Because even then we were convinced that he would be independent, social, and successful. I cried because I thought it was my fault. I cried because I wanted to protect him from the world and the pain I knew he would suffer as he learned to conquer his problems.
Having a child with Autism, ADHD, anxiety disorders or any other issue is knowing that your life will be filled with equal parts of joy and sadness. You'll embrace the small victories and concentrate on the days when things go perfectly. Then there are the times when your child is overwhelmed or moody over some problem you can't decipher. You learn patience and force yourself to not cling too tightly to your child. You try to explain his condition to friends and family who can't seem to grasp the situation. You live each day as fully as you can. But you never forget that tomorrow may bring some challenges you won't even see coming.
You’ll also find yourself learning every day about what your child needs and how best to give them the support they’ll need. When Sam was diagnosed we were living in Minnesota. After I was laid off from my journalism job, we stayed here because the state provides more help than most places in the United States. Even though it was not the wisest financial decision.
But for all of the state and county support, we also learned we needed to be our son’s advocate and push hard to get him the help he required. When he was in third grade, we had a meeting at the school he was attending and they informed us that they didn’t believe putting him into a mainstream class for part of the day was fair to him or the other children. So we moved him into a neighboring school district, which provided him with the support he needed. By the time he was in Middle School, most of his classes were mainstream and he was thriving academically.
But it hasn’t been an easy road. There were days when he would unexpectedly have a meltdown, overwhelmed by the emotions he couldn’t define and frustrations he couldn’t get past. There is frustration and heartbreak. Oh, so much heartbreak.
But there is also the joy that comes with being a father magnified times ten. The moments we spend together watching a bad action movie or talking about his day. The times when I sit next to him and wonder what I did to get so lucky.
My wife often reminds me not to cling so tightly. That I need to give Sam the space to fail. Because otherwise he’ll never learn and grow into the man we know he’ll be. And while I agree with her in the abstract, it is oh-so hard to do. My default reaction is to want to take his pain, to protect him as much as I can.
Sam is a huge sports fan and his favorite teams are the Chicago Cubs and the NY Islanders. His favorite Cubs player is Patrick Wisdom and earlier this year Wisdom was recovering from an injury and was playing for the AAA Iowa Cubs, who played some games here in Minnesota. More than anything, he wanted Wisdom’s autograph and we scouted out ahead of time the best way to get it.
He wanted to do it by himself, so I watched as he approached the area near the visitor’s dugout where Wisdom was signing autographs. And as my heart dropped, I saw the hesitation in his body language and he looked back at me with this look that just destroyed me. He couldn’t bring himself to push into the crowd for the autograph and he walked away empty-handed.
But my wife was right. The two of them have recently been going to local summer hockey league games and some of the NY Islanders players are playing. And he’s steeled himself enough to ask for their autographs and while the process still overwhelms him at times, he now has a hat full of signatures.
For all of the challenges, despite the moments when I know Sam is struggling, what I remember most vividly are the moments of joy. The beaming smile on his face when he visited Wrigley Field for the first time. His proud walk when he accepted his high school diploma and the way he showed off after participating in the state adaptive league bowling tournament. The swim parties with his friends when you can see every other concern in his life just melt away.
He is starting his first college course this week and for all the anxiety that brings, he is also filled with so much pride and joy that he can barely contain it all.
All of this is why I cried when I saw Gus Walz. Because that moment was a reflection of everything we’ve gone through with Sam. The joy, the hard times, the unexpected moments that come out of nowhere. Being a special needs parent can be challenging. But it is also the most incredibly fulfilling experience of my life.
Seeing that moment of joy, knowing what it took the Walz family to get to that point, just filled my heart with more emotion than it could hold.
As a father, I’ve learned more from Sam than he’ll ever learn from me. Loving him, and being his father has opened up my heart and made me a better person. It’s taught me to be more tolerant, and more open to other people’s stories.
And with luck, maybe Gus Walz’s story will have the same effect on you.