Column -- Labels close doors

When I first heard it, my immediate reaction was disbelief.

"Is your kid retarded?" an acquaintance of mine asked years ago. I was pushing my son Jed around in a grocery cart at Albertsons.

The older man had tried to get my son to respond. Jed wouldn't. He looked away as he often did when others tried to peer closely at him. He was 4 at the time, just a few years after being diagnosed with autism.

Of course, the word "retarded" has a long history in the world of the developmentally disabled. Meaning slow in French, it was used in the early 20th century as a way to label those with low IQs and few skills.

If my late son had been born in 1934 instead of 1984, doctors would have placed him in an institution, especially since he had the classic autistic delays -- limited language, repetitive behavior and diminished social skills. That was the trend back then. To say that someone was mentally retarded brought with it a certain finality.

But thanks to devoted parents and other advocates for the developmentally disabled, the landscape began to change. Those with disabilities soon got a chance to succeed in the real world.

This state led the nation in seeking free access to education for all, tearing down the barriers for children with special needs. A federal law in 1975 promised funding for special education programs. Even advocacy groups dropped the word "retarded" from their letterheads.

But as the saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Lately, the word has insinuated itself back into our society as a slang term. Someone trips while walking or says something stupid, and catcalls from friends ensue: "You retard." Even the hip-hop group Black Eyed Peas glorified it in 2003 with a tune titled "Let's Get Retarded," a paean to the joys of partying to the extreme on booze and drugs.

Now it has reached the silver screen, in Dolby sound no less, with last week's release of "Tropic Thunder." The $90 million flick, with comedian Ben Stiller in the lead role, has a simple premise -- satirize the idiocy of Hollywood in part by having an actor seek stardom by pretending to be "a retard."

However, much to the chagrin of the film's producers, Paramount and DreamWorks, a number of organizations such as Special Olympics and the American Association of People With Disabilities have protested the release of "Tropic Thunder."

The criticism has had limited success. The movie's producers agreed to expunge several egregious comments on the film's Web site including this tag line: "Once there was a retard."

But don't expect much else from the movie industry. It's all about getting a laugh and making a buck. Hence the reason for the movie's satire.

This flare-up in the cinematic world follows a burst of incendiary comments last month on the radio by talk show host Michael Savage, who launched a tirade against the thousands of children being diagnosed with autism.

Heard by 8 million listeners on more than 350 radio stations including Yakima's KUSA, Savage referred to autism as a "fraud, a racket."

"I'll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it's a brat who hasn't been told to cut the act out. That's what autism is."

He goes on to describe these out-of-control children as morons.

"What do you mean they scream and they're silent? They don't have a father around to tell them, 'Don't act like a moron. You'll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz. Straighten up. Act like a man. Don't sit there crying and screaming, idiot.'"

Savage gets paid for being a flamethrower with words. On his short-lived television show, he once told a caller to get AIDS and die.

Brat, idiot, moron, retard -- words that label a person are not uttered to enlighten, but to exclude. They close doors, end debate.

This is nothing new to parents of children with disabilities. They know all too well about the crude labels. The stares. The whispers. They all hurt, no matter if it's the first time or the hundredth.

I remember once chatting with a young dad whose daughter was severely disabled. He was attending a conference here. He told me about how his life had changed when he told the guys he had hung out with that his baby girl had disabilities, that she would never walk or talk. They suddenly all deserted him.

Now his Friday and Saturday nights, like all the other nights of the week, were spent at home, caring for his daughter.

"I don't mind," he said. "She has taught me what is really important in life. It's not those guys I thought were my friends. It's her."

Words may not be the most hurtful. It's the broken promises. They can be the most painful. Like the pledge by the federal government to support special education services. That was made in 1975. The promise has never been fulfilled.

There are more, like the federal No Child Left Behind law that has devastated recruitment of new special ed teachers. Or the roller-coaster financial support, both state and federal, for adults with developmental disabilities as they try to land jobs and become independent. Or the lack of adequate respite care so dedicated dads like the one I talked to at that conference can get some rest.

Yes, we all can do without hearing "what a retard." But is that the worst crime? What about the failed promises of better care, sustained support? Provide a teacher's aide for a young boy with autism so he can attend regular education classes and I bet his parents could care less what Michael Savage has to say.

As for that time when I first heard "Is your son retarded?" I didn't ask for an apology. I think I even smiled.

"No, he's not retarded," I said. "He's my son."

* Coordinating Editor Spencer Hatton can be reached at 577-7670 or shatton@yakimaherald.com.