I haven't read the book, yet. I told a couple of friends who asked that I feel like I've already read the book. I haven't read the book, but I think I'm living the book. I've read so much about it; I've read excerpts; I've read blog posts of those who have read it. I've even discussed it as if I've read it which I know is sort of ridiculous. I bought a copy, and it's sitting in a pile of books by my bed. Last week, though, I had a disturbing conversation with a mental health professional who had some disturbingly old-fashioned ideas about disability, about what it means to have a disabled child, a disabled sibling -- the toll it takes on a family, the horror, the horror. This conversation temporarily undid me until I had a few conversations with my people. The people of my tribe, those whose children have fallen far from the tree. I was lifted by those conversations from weariness to power, so now I might read it.
My friend Jody, who I've written about here many times, is of my tribe, and she has a gorgeous piece of writing on the community page of Andrew Solomon's Far From the Tree website. Please read it. And then read it again. And then think it and live it and then share it.