The Confessional

When I come across stories that begin with “Autism Boy” or “Nonverbal Child” I often hesitate to look into them knowing that they will most likely hit close to home, but tale of woe reported from Peoria, Arizona rings too familiar, accentuating the paranoia that had kept me sleepless for over a decade. Here are the broad strokes: a behavioral therapist was arrested for kicking a nonverbal five-year old autistic child in the face during an ABA session. I have always said that

June 18, 2025: I have always been excited for the last day of school, first as a student and even more so as a teacher. That giddy exuberance augmented with every school year, but on this morning, I don't wake up and feel overjoyed, instead I am rather agitated, and I don’t know exactly why. I go through the rest of the morning, signing yearbooks, and packing up my room, but the agitation doesn’t go away; instead, it lingers like bad perfume, and for some reason, the pung

This was a journal entry where I just kept writing, and before I knew it I had a little short story. I eventually began writing my memoir, "Dante's Journey" and decided that this could make a good first chapter.

My mother was born on St Patrick’s Day, and since it was her birthday, she would make sure I wore green for school. She enjoyed seeing everyone wearing green on this day, as I grew older, I sensed that it had nothing to with St. Patrick (we were far from Irish) and everything to do with her birthday. I surmised that everybody wore green on St. Patricks’ Day to honor my mother’s birthday to celebrate her birthday, which made sense since green was her favorite color. On Septemb

My grandfather Salvator died in 1923, and my mother never met her father, so Jim D’Agastino was the closet resemblance to a grandfather I had as a boy. Jim met my grandmother (my mother’s side) at Kimble’s Glass House where they both worked. I spent every weekend and most of my summers at their house in Glassboro throughout the 1970s. In their mid-50s, Jim and my grandmother traveled the country, seeing every state along the way. “Jungle Jim” as he was called by many of hi

Every so often, I post notes for Dante's staff. Nothing too elaborate, just reminders for new employees who haven't worked with Dante before. Sometimes however, I can be very stern and insistent with my son's caregivers, I don't see that changing anytime soon, but I am aware. I know their job isn't easy, trust me I know, so I try to remind myself to make them aware of how grateful I am for all they do for my son and my peace of mind. There is a special place in heaven for

"To love is easy and therefore common-but to understand-how rare it is!" L.M. Montgomery

A Random Act of Kindness

Her brother's keeper