Different . . . Not Less. Temple Grandin
CHARLI DEVNET, BA, MA, JD
Age: 57
Resides in: Croton-on-Hudson, NY
Occupation: Tour guide and legal freelancer
Marital status: Single
FROM TEMPLE:
I chose Charli as the first Different…Not Less story because I know her insightful cover letter will offer hope to so many people on the spectrum. After years of struggle and a series of false starts, Charli found positive direction in life through an unusual job that was right for her. Charli’s chapter begins with her cover letter, explaining why she would be a good candidate for inclusion in this book.
CHARLI’S INTRODUCTION
Despite my seemingly satisfactory verbal skills, I have been significantly challenged by autism. I know many adults have received a diagnosis of some form of autism, yet—in my eyes—they have such a mild level of impairment that they seem to be able to lead fairly normal lives. Any one of them could provide you with a more conventional career success story. When I first heard about Temple’s new book, I was afraid it would only relate the stories of higher-functioning individuals and that those of us who have struggled with near-insurmountable difficulties just to achieve a measure of acceptance in our personal and professional lives would be overlooked. I believe that those of us who are not in the “near-normal” category should also have a voice. Feel free to use my name. I am not ashamed of who I am—not any longer.
For the past 10 years, I have worked at a historical house museum, called “Kykuit,” in Sleepy Hollow, New York. Kykuit was formerly the countryseat of the Rockefeller family. I work as a tour guide and, on Saturdays, I sell memberships for the National Trust for Historic Preservation, the present landlord of Kykuit. The name “Kykuit” is a Dutch word, meaning “lookout” or “high place.” When the Dutch settled along the banks of the Hudson River back in the 17th century, they assigned the name to a craggy, rocky hilltop 500 feet above sea level. This hilltop was used by the local Indian tribes as a signal post. Now, 500 feet may not seem very high to those who live in Colorado, but here in Westchester Country, it almost touches the sky! A hundred years ago, the richest family in America transformed this barren, rocky hilltop into a little bit of paradise.
This is the best job I have ever had. I love my work for so many reasons. First of all, the site itself is both peaceful and inspiring. Sculpted on the façade of the house are two classical deities, joined together by a laurel branch—Apollo, who represents culture, art, and science, and Demeter, the goddess of agriculture and harvest. Art and nature work in harmony to create a place of wonder—the sweeping views of the Hudson and the Palisades take your breath away, enhanced by the sculpture gardens, fountains, and greenery. The house itself is interesting, but it’s the exteriors that are a treasure. John D. Rockefeller, Sr, the oil baron, was a robust, outdoorsy, athletic type of man. Despite his vast wealth, he cared nothing for high society or manmade opulence—he was a Baptist and preferred to spend his money, if he must spend it, on the gardens, golf course, and woodlands.
Sense of Camaraderie with Tour Guides
My colleagues at Kykuit have provided me with a sense of camaraderie that I have not known since junior-high school. The other guides are all intelligent and highly educated, with diverse backgrounds. Some are retired teachers, and some have a background in the arts. A few, like me, have worked in the legal field. Now, I myself am intelligent and educated, and those qualities alone would never impress me. However, the other guides embody the attributes that are lacking in me, which I therefore admire in other people—attributes like poise, sophistication, self-assurance, and possession of the social graces. They generally consider themselves “artsy,” and, as such, feel almost obligated to be tolerant of the quirks and eccentricities of others and have therefore been more accepting of me than coworkers in the legal or business world might be. However, this was not always the case. At first, in my eagerness to become one of the “troupe,” I made comments that seemed witty and incisive to me but may well have been perceived as offensive, rude, and gauche. As time went by and we became better acquainted, we began to get on much better. If I did not find any close friends among my colleagues, at least we became friendly. On occasion, we get together outside of work for a field trip to a museum or other attraction. A few years ago, there was a public art “happening” in Central Park, called “The Gates,” and the guides all went down together. While I might have gone alone, it was much more fun going with the gang from work.
One of the best aspects of my job is that it allows me to talk and be the center of attention. For two and a quarter hours, visitors must follow me around and listen to me speak about matters in which I am interested and knowledgeable. They cannot change the subject and have a conversation in which I can take no part—about their children or their mortgages or where they are going on vacation—nor can they just talk over me as if I were not there.
What I like best about being a tour guide is actually the greatest obstacle to retaining the job. While the wages are low, the job actually requires a high-level skill set. It requires knowledge of both American history and art history (which fall right in my area of special interest). I have always had a keen interest in history and politics, so for any aspects of the material of which I knew nothing—for example, modern art, styles of architecture, and landscaping theory—I quickly picked them up. In fact, I enjoyed having new subjects to delve into. However, a guide also has to be comfortable with public speaking, which presented me with a great challenge. My first season was almost my last. Sure, I could talk on and on—but does anyone want to listen? My presentation was where I ran into trouble. In my first year, I was criticized for speaking in monotone, not looking visitors in the eye, not projecting my voice, having a “flat affect,” and being consistently late to the bus at the end of the tour. I came very close to losing my job, as I had lost many others before it.
Developing Confidence
During that first summer, however, my beautiful mother died at the age of 74, from smoking-related lung cancer. Her loss threatened to send me into a serious tailspin. I adored my mother. She may not have been the most nurturing or supportive of parents, as she had difficulty expressing her emotions—but I loved her. Despite the fact that she smoked, she had always taken good care of herself, and I had thought she would die well into her 90s, if at all. Because of my mother’s death, I needed the structure and the socialization that my job at Kykuit provided, and I acquired the social skills that were necessary to keep it. I discovered in myself abilities that had lain dormant all my life—abilities that few autistic people ever get a chance to develop: the self-Confidence to speak in public, to be articulate and to modulate my voice, to make witty comments that are amusing to everyone (and not just to myself), and to impart my knowledge in a way that holds a visitor’s interest and attention. Problems remain in abiding by the schedule and making it to the bus on time, but the other guides know I have this tendency, and they hurry me along.
When talking about career success, if you’re referring to fame and fortune, a fat paycheck, a position of power, or a world-shattering discovery, I have nothing to offer. However, what I am able to impart is a story about a low-paying, seasonal, offbeat job that has made me very happy, provided me with a touchstone through years of loss and personal tragedy, and given me an opportunity to develop many interpersonal and social skills that I never dreamed I could possess.
Mid-40s Subsistence Living
Although I have several advanced degrees, I have spent most of my adult life either unemployed or underemployed. By my mid-40s, I had learned to eke out a subsistence living by putting together a patchwork of part-time, low-paying jobs, all of which I was overqualified for. I understand this is a common pattern with Aspies. At the time, however, I had not received a formal diagnosis. To my mind—and the minds of others around me—I was simply a disappointment, a failure, and an underachiever—a “no-good, lazy bum” who did not try hard enough. As a child in the 1960s, I had been tagged as being “emotionally immature,” and that label stuck well into midlife. Then I saw an ad for tour guides at Kykuit.