As Babbling Bobbie stared at the flames of the two candles signifying his birthday, his facial expression changed from the innocent glee of a young boy to the thoughtful demeanor of an intelligence far beyond his two years. Bobbie closed his eyes for a moment as his breath became slow and shallow. When he opened his eyes, Baby Bobbie was gone and something else had taken his place...and then the voice that the members of the Charisma Christian Church had grown to know and respect, though with some trepidation, erupted from the young boy. It was the voice that had attracted attention from dozens of other charismatic churches in the southeast.
It was hard to imagine how such a deep bass voice could come from such a small boy, or that his vocal chords could even produce such a range of sounds, but that was just part of the miracle that consistently silenced the crowd as it did on this day. Angie and Brian instinctively made their way to their son, standing behind his chair. They each reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder — an angelic look of peace on Brian’s face, a look of troubled worry on Angie’s.
As Bobbie spoke in tongues, his eyelids opened to reveal a stark whiteness with no signs of his blue irises.
“He’s with God for sure,” Elder Jacobs whispered, leaning over to the person standing next to him. When he realized he was once more talking to Pastor John, he cleared his throat and shuffled off, placing a couple of other congregants between him and the pastor.
The unintelligible babbling continued to pour from Bobbie for close to three minutes, then he did something no one expected. He stopped talking and his eyes rolled back to their normal position. Without glancing around, he climbed out of the dining room chair that had served as his throne for the last several minutes and waddled into the living room, where he went immediately to the pile of new toys he’d received for his birthday.
One of the most popular presents this year had been building blocks. He received three different sets. Sitting down on the plushly carpeted floor, Bobbie pulled the blocks closer to him and began to build.
After a few minutes, the crowd that had gathered around him began to mumble. “Amazing...what is it? Is that what I think it is?...How is he able to do that at his age?...How’s he able to do it at any age? My God...it’s...it’s...”
Pastor John stepped forward. “It’s a tower...a tower of Babel. Let us pray.”
Obediently, everyone bowed their heads. “Our Father, who art in heaven...” Pastor John’s clear deep voice rang out over the gathering of his congregants. By the time the Lord’s Prayer was finished, Bobbie’s tower had grown taller than he was, making it necessary for him to stand on the hassock of his mother’s chair to continue the building process.
In less than ten minutes, the structure had grown to over five feet tall. Bobbie had reached out beyond his pile of toys and brought in a number of other objects to complete his work of art, including Scotch tape from the den, two sets of pickup sticks, several books from Brian’s library and an assortment of kitchen utensils.
Bobbie reached out to his dad to pick him up, a final object in his hand. “Pick him up, Brian,” Pastor John whispered. “He needs your help to complete the tower.”
Brian did as instructed. As he held his son out towards the tower, Bobbie reached over and placed the yellow star that came from one of his toy puzzles on the pinnacle. As he did so, he shuddered slightly and shook his head.
By the time his dad had set him down on the floor, Baby Bobbie had returned.
ANGIE stared across the kitchen table where Brian sat stirring his cup of decaf that she’d set in front of him a few minutes before. She’d made a point of putting Bobbie to bed early enough so she could talk with her husband without any interruptions. So far, the conversation wasn’t going well. She decided to try again.
“It’s not normal, Brian. You know it’s not. I don’t just mean these strange spells he’s having that you and everyone else think is a gift from God. If they’re such a gift, how come Bobbie hasn’t said one word except when he’s speaking in tongues? It’s not right, and you know it.”
“Now, just calm down. You know babies develop at different rates. Who’s to say what’s normal and what isn’t? When Bobbie has something to say, he’ll say it. In the meantime, can’t you be grateful for the miracle that he is?”
Angie stood up and started pacing back and forth between the table and the kitchen sink. She reached over and tried to shut the dripping faucet, but even as she did so, she knew it was futile. It had been dripping ever since they’d moved in over four years ago. Futile...just like the conversation she was trying to have with her husband. Still, she needed to try. Her son’s health and happiness were at stake.
“Well, I’m not so sure it’s a blessing or a miracle,” she replied turning back to Brian. “How do we know that he’s speaking in tongues? What if it’s something else? What if it’s the only way he can talk because something’s wrong with his mental processing — something that might be correctable if we diagnose it early enough? But here we are, ignoring the signs.”
“What are you suggesting?” Brian asked. She could hear the edge of anger building in his voice. Tread lightly, she thought, but when it came to her son, she knew it was unlikely she’d take her own advice.
“I spoke to my mother today.” She heard Brian’s groan but chose to ignore it. “She knows of an excellent specialist at Duke, who she used to work with during her nursing days. She’s sure he’d be happy to examine Bobbie. He probably wouldn’t even charge us.”
Brian pushed himself away from the table but remained sitting. “What in the hell are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with Bobbie, and we sure the hell don’t need to drag him all the way to Durham to have him poked and prodded by some over-educated doctor.”
Angie took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. They’d had similar disagreements in the past. It was the one major difference that had brought a wedge between them more than once. Angie had been raised in a medical family. Her father had been a physician for over forty years, her mom a nurse for twenty-five. Religion wasn’t anathema to them, but it also wasn’t nearly the central theme of their lives as it was for Brian and his family — three generations of charismatic Christians.
“Angela, stop and think about this.” Whenever Brian started using her full name, she knew his mind had been made up, and he was now sinking his heels in deeper. “What would Pastor John and the rest of the community think if we hauled Bobbie off to Duke? Why, they’d question our faith, and I won’t have that.”
Angie opened her mouth to retaliate, but then closed it again. What’s the use? Clearly he’s made up his mind and won’t be convinced otherwise, she thought. And that was okay because she’d not only already made up her mind, she’d also made an appointment to have Bobbie examined next week while Brian was away on a business trip. That would give the specialist time to study the tape she’d mailed to his office of Bobbie’s latest babbling spell as well. She then called her mother back and asked her to get the spare bedroom ready. She could hear the relief in her mother’s voice. She hated going behind her husband’s back, but when it came to her son...well, sometimes it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission. This was one of those times.
ANGIE could feel the tickling of perspiration running down the inside of her arms. I’m sweating like a pig, she thought, then smiled despite the situation. Her mom would have a fit if she ever heard such a phrase come from her daughter’s mouth. She’d much prefer thinking that her daughter could describe all the physiological reasons people perspired when nervous, but unfortunately, Angie hadn’t acquired the ‘medical gene’ so dominant in her two parents.
That was not to say that her view on life wasn’t affected by her parents' careers. Between the two of them, Gloria and Edgar Roberson had over sixty years of experience in the medical profession. Being raised by a prominent physician and nurse had its effect. Otherwise, Angie would not be in Dr. Carter’s office sweating so profusely for fear of what she was about to learn
about her son. The last three days had been excruciating, waiting for the call to let her know that the results of Bobbie’s MRI and other tests were in. Fortunately, her mother still carried a bit of weight in the local medical community. Otherwise, the wait would have been more like three weeks.
Dr. Carter walked in, studying the clipboard in his hand. As he sat down behind his desk, he looked up and smiled at Angie. Angie wondered if the graying at his temples was due to age or Carter’s attempt to look wiser and more trusting. In either case, it worked.
“Good to see you again, Ms. Cagle. Where’s Bobbie?”
“I thought it better to leave him home with his grandmother,” Angie replied, then added nervously, “Oh, was I supposed to bring him in today? I could...”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Dr. Carter replied. “Just a curiosity question, more to break the ice than anything.”
“Oh, okay. Just so you know, Doctor, I’m more of a pull-the-bandage-off-all-at-once kind of girl.”
“I see. Well, in that case, let’s get right down to it.”
Angie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Please, God, don’t let it be too bad, she prayed silently to herself.
“We’ve diagnosed Bobbie as having autism.”
Well, that was sure pulling the bandage off quickly, Angie thought.
“And what does that mean exactly?”
“Autism is a developmental disorder that affects the brain's normal development of social and communication skills,” said Dr. Carter. “Generally, it appears in the first three years of life, though recent studies have suggested the changes in the brain happen much earlier. Of course, there is a wide range of different symptoms and degrees of the condition.”
The news shocked Angie into silence. Developmental disorder...affects the brain’s normal development. What am I going to do now? How am I ever going to be able to break the news to Brian? Going behind his back like this suddenly felt like a very bad idea. Well, she’d just have to cross that bridge later. Right now, she needed to know what she could do to help her son.
“So, the strange spells and the ‘speaking in tongues’ are just effects from the autism?”
“Well, that brings us to the second matter,” Dr. Carter said, as he flipped through a few pages. “While Bobbie was here, I had Dr. Elizabeth Mechner examine him as well. She’s a linguist specializing in such matters, including glossolalia...that’s the medical term for ‘speaking in tongues.’”
Angie nodded.
“According to Dr. Mechner, Bobbie isn’t speaking in tongues.”
“So, he’s just babbling away because of the autism?” Angie asked, growing more frightened by the minute.
“No, I wouldn’t say that. You see...well, let me read to you what Dr. Mechner wrote here in Bobbie’s record: ‘Glossolalic speech resembles human language in some respects. The speaker uses accent, rhythm, intonation and pauses to break up the speech into distinct units. Each unit is itself made up of syllables, the syllables being formed from consonants and vowels taken from a language known to the speaker...but it’s not an actual language.’”
Dr. Carter looked up from the records. “In other words, speaking in tongues is more babbling than anything else. It’s not a language, but an imitation of a language.”
“So? What does that have to do with Bobbie?”
“Well, according to Dr. Mechner and two other specialists, what Bobbie is saying is a language, not an imitation. It’s simply a language no one has ever heard before.”
“It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen my son, and during that time you’ve made him suffer through dozens of tests. Enough is enough,” Brian fairly yelled through the phone. “Bring my son home where he belongs.”
Angie held the phone away from her ear so as not to be deafened by her husband’s angry words. She waited for a second to be sure he was finished before replying.
“You know where Bobbie is if you want to see him. I’m not trying to keep your son from you, Brian. However, I will not take him back there just so your charismatic Christians can treat him like some sideshow to grow Pastor John’s congregation and fame. Now, I’ve got to go. Mother has been holding dinner waiting for me to get off the phone.” She paused a moment before adding, “I love you.”
She hung up the phone without waiting to hear if her husband had anything else to add.
“Tough call?” Gloria asked, as she walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Angie replied, going to the refrigerator and pulling out the half empty bottle of wine and pouring herself a glass. “He doesn’t understand that I’m just trying to do what’s right to take care of my son.” She glanced at her mom. “You want a glass?”
“Sure,” Gloria replied, as she dried her hands. “Let’s have something to eat before it burns to a crisp.”
The three of them sat down to dinner around the same kitchen table where Angie had eaten hundreds of meals growing up. She placed Bobbie in the old wooden high chair — the third generation to be raised in it.
“He’s right about one thing,” Angie said, after she’d asked the blessing and reached for the meatloaf, which resembled a burnt log.
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“There’s been enough testing by the doctors. I know they mean well, but it’s beginning to feel like Bobbie is just another interesting case study...hardly more than a guinea pig to them. And they still don’t know what this foreign language is, or its origin. I’m going to put a stop to the testing. I’ll call Dr. Carter tomorrow and let him know.”
Gloria nodded, but didn’t say anything. She took a sip from her wine before asking, “Then what?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, if you stop the testing, yet don’t plan on going back home, what will you do? I mean, you can stay here as long as you like, but...”
“I know, Mom. It wouldn’t be long before we’d be at each other’s throat. We’re just too much alike to live together for very long. But if you could put up with me for a few more days, I’d appreciate it — just until I know how to answer that question better.”
“Sure, honey. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.” She reached over and patted her daughter’s hand. “We’ll manage, I’m sure.”
“BUT MS. CAGLE, WE’RE so close to a breakthrough with Bobbie. I have two language specialists flying in from California in a couple of days to examine him. They have some very interesting theories they’d like to explore further.”
Cradling the phone against one ear, Angie walked into Bobbie’s room to be sure he was still asleep during his nap, then walked back out before asking, “What theories are those?”
“It’s a little hard to explain over the phone to a layperson...”
“Well, try,” Angie said, with an edge of impatience in her voice. “I might just surprise you.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Angie was beginning to think Carter had hung up on her when he finally replied, “Are you familiar with the Noetic Sciences?”
“Well, I’ve heard about them. Isn’t there an institute by that name started by one of the astronauts or something like that?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Well, one of the things they study is human potential and the role consciousness plays in our further development. I know some scientists consider what they do to be more of a pseudo-science, but I don’t agree, at least not entirely. And, well, in Bobbie’s case, we’ve run out of ideas, so I’m trying to think outside the box a bit. That’s why I called them.”
“And what did they say?”
“Are you familiar with the term, ‘cosmic consciousness’?”
“Ahh, yes, I think so, but isn’t that some New Age term? Remember, Dr. Carter, I’ve spent the last several years in a charismatic Christian community. New Age is considered kind of a ‘pseudo-religion.’”
“Well, I guess Bobbie is where pseudo-science and pseudo-religion meet.”
“Pardon?” Angie asked, miffed by what she’d jus
t heard.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Ms. Cagle. Like I said, I’m trying to think out of the box because it’s become clear to me the answers to the questions we’re all asking about Bobbie aren’t to be found in the box of conventional science.”
“Okay, I understand. So what does this ‘cosmic consciousness’ have to do with Bobbie?”
“The idea is that the universe exists as an interconnected network of consciousness, with each conscious being linked to every other,” Dr. Carter replied. “Sometimes this is conceived as forming a collective consciousness that spans the cosmos. It’s not a particularly new idea. In fact, there was a book written about it back in 1901 by a man named Bucke. He developed a theory involving three stages in the development of consciousness: the simple consciousness of animals, the self-consciousness of the mass of humanity and cosmic consciousness. He claimed this last one to be an emerging faculty and the next stage of human development.”
“All very interesting, Doctor,” Angie replied, with a sigh. “I repeat, what does this have to do with my two-year-old son?”
“Now, Ms. Cagle, it’s just a theory at this time, so please don’t freak out on me, okay?”
Too late, Angie thought. I’m already freaking out, but she decided it was best for Bobbie to keep her mouth shut at this point.
When she didn’t reply, Dr. Carter continued. “It’s my theory that the changes in Bobbie’s brain that we’ve diagnosed as causing the autism may...I repeat, may...have set up a special condition that has turned Bobbie into a virtual receiving station for communication coming from the cosmic consciousness of the universe.”
There was a long silence on the phone.
“You’re kidding,” Angie said.
“Like I said, at this point it’s only a theory, but according to the scientists in California, a plausible one from which to work.”
Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat Page 10
