Mori’s Story: a Book About a Boy with Autism

Plot

A boy discusses his autistic brother, including his home life, foster home, schooling, and how the disease affects the whole family.
An 11-year-old boy creates a loving depiction of his autistic brother's life
By Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson

"Mori's Story: A Book About a Boy with Autism" by Zachary Gartenberg with photographs by Jerry Gay

Lerner Publications Company

"This is a story about my brother, Moriel. Moriel has autism. My parents gave him a Hebrew name which means 'God is my teacher.' I think they just thought the name was beautiful, but its meaning came true in a way they didn't expect. Moriel teaches others that people with disabilities, such as autism, can accomplish many things. I think God wants us to understand that there are different kinds of people, and nobody's perfect. Anyway, we call my brother Mori for short."

So begins one of the most profound and compelling books I have ever read. This loving depiction of Mori's life, written by his wise (and 11-year-old) brother, Zach, will open up a world that few people know about, much less seek to enter. What makes this fine book particularly compelling is that Zach has no ax to grind, no political battles to fight. Poised at the brink of his bar mitzvah, he has the acumen and insight of an adult, but he retains a child's faith and honesty. There is no better voice to articulate the world of an autistic child.

Mori, Zach, and their sister, Fay, are the children of Rabbi Dov and Celia Gartenberg. Once of Los Angeles, the family now lives in Seattle, although Rabbi Gartenberg continues to participate in Camp Ramah's family camp each August.

The Gartenberg family, formerly of Los Angeles and now of Seattle, in a photograph from "Mori's Story."

This book brings us into their family and into their home, as they work to provide a full and rich life for all of their children. Zach's writing is a wonderful sign that they are succeeding.

But "Mori's Story" is not saccharin or false. Without editorializing, Zach lets us in on the heart-rending struggles involved in raising a special-needs child. Zach writes: "Mori has to take special medicine so he can stay calm. When he doesn't have his medicine, he has screaming fits and might bang his head on the floor. He also goes around wrecking things in the house throwing food, spilling toys, pulling down curtains. He especially likes to take apart mattresses and stuffed toys. You can imagine that this behavior is hard to live with, and it can get expensive."

Any parent can imagine the torment of watching a child recede behind a disability that commonly shows no signs until the child is about 2 years old. The screaming, crying, and loss of emotional control is excruciating. I know because I, too, have an autistic son, Jacob. We used Zach's book to read to our 5-year-old daughter, Shira, to help her understand (and give words) to her brother's challenge. She was deeply moved by the book, wanting to read it several nights in a row.

When she got to the part of the book where the Gartenbergs were planning a year's sabbatical in Israel, and they decided that they would have to leave Mori in a group home for children with disabilities, Shira burst out in tears. Her sorrow at the possibility of autism separating our family is precisely what all relatives of special needs children endure. Now, through Zach's wise words, we have someone who has told Mori's story, and our own.

But I don't want to leave you with a sense that Mori's life (and Zach's) is one of relentless struggle to contain tragedy. To the contrary, what is wonderful about this book is that Zach sees his brother, not just his brother's illness. And Zach loves his brother as a friend and companion.

So many well-meaning people offer sighs and sympathy, allowing the illness to obscure the wonderful person who lives with it. Zach's book makes no room for such misguided sentimentality. He writes about their lives together, and all the family adventures they have together. And special mention must be made of the superb photographs of Jerry Gay, who has truly captured on film the joy and the caring in the Gartenberg family.

This is, above all, a book about two brothers and their family. Autism may set the context for their own unique adjustments, but it does not set the tone for their love. Human beings have a God-given capacity to rise above their struggles, to define themselves despite their limitations. Mori's story is just such a triumph. Let Zach have the last word:

"Some people think that people with disabilities are not smart, but my brother is smart. He remembers everything you teach him. He's always eager to learn and then to go out and play. I really love him."