|About the Book|
From Fathers, Sons, and Seizures:Even as a small child, Brennans nascent kindliness showed in the way he offered a fistful of crushed blackberries to his favorite aunt Michaela, or held a cat in his lap. At the supermarket, we were forever... MoreFrom Fathers, Sons, and Seizures:Even as a small child, Brennans nascent kindliness showed in the way he offered a fistful of crushed blackberries to his favorite aunt Michaela, or held a cat in his lap. At the supermarket, we were forever approached by other customers, usually women, to be told that they had never seen such a handsome boy. Such beautiful hair, they said. So sweet.This kindness of his shows in the photo of him climbing on the wooden fence as well, taken when he was three…in the European touch of the scuffed sandal, appropriate to his having been born in Paris, and in the patterned cotton shirt that I remember was faded red and quite manly, especially when worn with his dust- splotched jeans. He looks at the camera with obvious enjoyment of the moment. He doesnt question much. He lives a life the way children are supposed to. Hes loved. His eyes soften with the attention given to him by his mother, who is taking the picture while I stand at her shoulder.That he undergoes many enormous seizures a day does not matter at this moment. He may fall from the fence in a paralysis a half minute later, to kick dust about, his eyes searching the trees in a manic clutch, his face gray and twitching as the seizures current runs through him. But for now he is the Brennan we had hoped for, simply enjoying the fence, the warm afternoon, and the affection of his parents.