It’s 3pm on March 21st, and this being World Down Syndrome Day, we would have been out the door with our crazy socks on for our fundraiser event for GiGi’s Playhouse Detroit, the Down syndrome Achievement Center that we support. (By the way, 3/21 was chosen because it describes the genetic condition of Down syndrome – three chromosomes on the 21st position instead of two. Hence the name, Trisomy-21)

But hey, nothing breaks the rhythm like the threat of global pandemic.

We’re finding it breaks a lot of things: our peace, our security, our relationships and so much more. For the thousands of families coping with the challenges of home schooling our kids with the unique needs of Down syndrome, life got simpler and more complicated in an instant.

But even in the midst of the scary headlines and confusion of pundits and opinion, there are encouraging and optimistic voices as well. Borrowing a tweet from the Superintendent of our school system:

This shut down feels like a start up. Anyone agree?

I started noodling a similar idea a week ago today as Julia and I were doing our Saturday morning ritual. She and I are responsible for much of the weekly shopping. Our first stop is at the local membership warehouse, then to a nearby fast food place to grab a diet cola (don’t tell mama). And then we finish out the trip at our favorite grocery store where she helps the checkout clerk scan the items, returns her little cart and then gathers her weekly wages of stickers and a sucker for her efforts.

We’ve been doing it for over a year and Julia loves the routine. I’m pretty sure the employees love it as well, because some of them know her name and all know her face.

Things were a little different last weekend when the news of shutdowns hit the media and the pandemic got a lot more real to people. Our trip to the Big Box Wholesale had a tension to it unlike anything I’ve ever experienced – and not just because I had to explain to Julia why they weren’t offering the free samples.

The stuff people were looking for had been cleaned out by the hoarders in the days and weeks before; and people were leaving with stuff that rationality would have told them they really didn’t need (I’m looking at you, Carts-full-of-bottled-water Guy).

But if I’m honest, I took a few “contingency items” more than normal – despite my hard bitten desire to not let the fear own me. I could feel my benevolence ebb even as I was navigating the parking lot back to the car with a cart and kid in tow.

Good thing there was caffeine in our immediate future. #dietcolaforthewin

Everywhere I looked, from without and within, there was just a little more chaotic energy, just a little more fear, just a little more sense of deficit and lack. What made it all the more extraordinary was the realization that it was in a warehouse piled high with consumer goods – most of them irrelevant in the face of the new economy where the coin of the realm seems to be toilet paper.

There’s something to be learned there. Scarcity creates clarity.

Our grocery store run was a tiny bit more relaxed; and though we didn’t get everything on our list, we had the pleasure of meeting a new check out clerk.

Paulette was especially animated and worked great with Julia as we cashed out. She asked Julia more than the average – her age, whether she was in school, what subjects she liked. Nothing prying, just more conversational. It was as Julia was returning her little cart that Paulette gave me some context.

She leaned over to me and said, “I had a brother, who died recently at 60 years old. Such a dear man.”

It all fell into place. Paulette was among the “lucky few” who spent her life with a family member with Ds.

Editor’s note: Please know what follows next in the story is from a week ago. It was beautiful to watch at the time, but I’m not sure I would do it the same way now.

When Julia returned to pick up her well earned stickers and sucker, Paulette asked if it was OK if she asked Julia her name, and I said yes. She took off her rubber glove, introduce herself and shook Julia’s hand.

As we left, I told her I was sorry for her loss. And Paulette’s demeanor changed completely. Her voice cracked out a thank you and she prepared herself for the next customer, holding back tears. The pain of her loss was still very real.

I leaned down to Julia and said that I thought Ms. Paulette needed a hug. And without hesitation, my daughter, whose heart beats for relationship and connection, offered that hug.

Paulette accepted it gratefully and kissed Julia on the top of her head. I believe a lifelong friendship has started. When we get on the other side of this craziness and I feel comfortable taking Julia grocery shopping again, she is going to be looking for her new soulmate at the checkout counter.

And in that moment, a new clarity in the midst of the scarcity:

We are a society that is lacking not only in toilet paper, but in the connection that the human heart longs for. Our friends with Down syndrome are built for that connection and have a lot to teach us – even as we teach them the basics of proper hand washing.

So here’s my challenge to you on World Down Syndrome Day: connection and community is paramount for these folks unlike anything else. So…

CONNECT WITH THEM!

Especially now.

Several of the “lemons into lemonade” moments of this week’s new reality were the opportunities Julia had to connect with people via video chat. She met with a classmate and they practiced interview questions. Her Uncle Mike and Aunt Jen requested that she read a book to her Dayton family. And she spent time connecting with a couple of her paraprofessionals from school.

This is oxygen for a kid like her.

So in the strange times we find ourselves in, set time aside to intentionally grow community with kids and adults like Julia – and all of our friends in vulnerable communities. It is my hope that this terrible situation can be leveraged into a “reset” for our world and ultimately draw us together, despite the time we need to take to be physically apart.

We’ll all be better for it.

Anybody have some toilet paper to spare?