The accepted wisdom about people with intellectual disabilities is that they are slow. Slow to walk, to talk, to read, to tie their shoes. It’s also widely whispered that being slow is to be lazy, stupid and unproductive. In her essay, “In Praise of Aaron Slow,” author Sue Robins cites noted journalist, Carl Honoré, voice of the Slow Movement. Honoré argues slow doesn’t mean doing things at a snail’s pace. Slow means doing everything at the right speed.
The pandemic helped Maddie find the right speed. She couldn’t rush to work, to classes or to workouts at the JCC. She had to find other activities to fill the empty hours between Zoom sessions. The results were rewarding and surprising.
Maddie has always liked to cook and bake. She even has her own Kitchen Aid. But until the pandemic, it sat untouched on top of her fridge. Then, as we entered yet another lock-down, she decided, (thanks to a prod from her “house elf” Morgan) to do some baking–without my help. Every week, she makes a new type of cookie to share with her housemates, her shut-in Grannie, her Papa, and her housemate’s Grannie. Now she’s trying muffins, bundt cake and more.
After 25 years of swimming lessons, this pandemic summer was the right time for Maddie to take a real plunge. She released her trusty life ring and learned to swim laps from the raft to the shore of our lake. We all cheered. Even more surprising, she formed a running club with her father. Now she runs nearly every weekend, even in the snow and cold. On New Year’s Eve, she set a personal best in a 5.5 k run with her sister, father and friends.
Honoré argues that overcoming our compulsion to hurry will paradoxically help us build richer, fuller lives. During this slow time, Maddie has surprised us all with her many new skills and talents.
Building an Everyday Life 