New York mom Judith Newman was at the deli counter ordering cold cuts with her sons, Gus and Henry, twins in their early teens. One of them was hopping up and down, announcing to anyone and everyone that his father would soon be coming home from a trip and would land at JFK and then take "the A train from Howard Beach to West 4th and then change to the B or D to Broadway-Lafayette. He'll arrive at 77 Bleecker," at which point, the boy continued, "he and Mommy will do sex." And then the boy went back to explaining more about the train transfers.
So begins Newman's book "To Siri With Love," an essay collection about raising two boys, one with autism, one without. I think you can guess which one was hopping and announcing the train schedule and which one whispered into his ear to add that little detail about what happens when Daddy gets home.
Newman is so used to her son Gus' behaviors that she barely noticed. "But in that moment I see our family the way the rest of the world sees us: the obnoxious teenager, pretending he doesn't know us; the crazy jumping bean, nattering on about the A train; the frazzled, fanny-pack-sporting mother, now part of an unappetizing visual of two ancients on a booty call."
But you probably won't see them that way after reading her book — or at least not only that way. In fact, you may grow to love them all.
That's because Newman is hilarious and so heartbreakingly honest that one chapter is actually a list of her traits that she worries may have caused her son's autism — a list she runs through her head "usually at 4 a.m." These include "because I was old," "because I was fat" and "because I had twins via IVF." But after she has worked herself into a state, she looks "at Gus the person, not Gus the mental condition, and (calms) the hell down."
What is Gus the person like?
Well, the subtitle of the book is "A Mother, Her Autistic Son, and the Kindness of Machines." One machine in particular — Siri, Apple's voice-activated virtual assistant — has provided her son with a companion that talks to him without getting bored or testy about the topics Gus can't get enough of, particularly transit and weather patterns. So Gus is, like many "ASD" kids (that is, kids on the autism spectrum), focused. "Every person with ASD I've ever met loves repetition and detail in some form or another," writes Newman. "If a subject is interesting to him, there is no such thing as 'getting tired' of it."
Siri doesn't get tired, either, making her a great companion. But she's also programmed to interact somewhat like a human. So when Gus asks her whether she'll marry him, she responds, "My end-user agreement does not include marriage." And Gus deals.
But the fact that he wanted to marry Siri sounds like pure Gus, because he is in love with almost everyone who's kind to him. He talks to strangers. He takes his mom's hand when they go for a walk. He even helps out the doormen in the apartment building where he lives, buzzing people when their food arrives, fetching their packages, saying hello to everyone. A dream job.
"He will never pass as a kid who doesn't have some issues," Newman told me in a phone interview. But between his devoted parents, his pretend-tough brother (who spent all summer going around the city with him), the neighbors he is so eager to greet — and Siri — Gus seems very happy.