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tinleyjunction.com News
the tinley junction | February 15, 2018 | 5
After rejections, family finds program for son
Cody Mroczka, Editor
“The hand of the maker
shook.”
Rick Bruno never forgot
those words. Twenty nine
years and countless doctors
later, he still remembers how
that pediatrician spoke.
“He was trying to put it
nicely,” Bruno, a retired Tinley
Park Police Department
officer for 33 years said.
Prior to that encounter,
when his son Dan was 26
months old, Rick and his
wife, Jean, were hesitant to
compare his development to
older brother Greg.
“We noticed he wasn’t
picking up as quickly. From
birth to 2 years everything
was normal, the pregnancy
was unremarkable,” Bruno
said. “We did early childhood
intervention, therapy
sessions; it helped a great
deal. We didn’t want to label
too early.”
For over 18 years, his
son Dan had attended Easterseals,
a non-for-profit
developmental disabilities
educational and employment
services, that until Jan. 31
served 44 adults -- and still
serves hundreds of children
— at Tinley Park, Chicago
and Rockford locations.
Only the adult program
was cut in Tinley Park and
Chicago, displacing people
like Dan, who enrolled after
finishing Easterseals’
educational program at the
age of 22, transitioning out
of the childhood education
program shared on the
same campus. The former
Kirby School District building
on Ozark Avenue was
purchased by Easterseals in
2006. A majority of those
people who have been
forced to relocate are over
the age of 22 and fall under
the autism spectrum disorder,
with differing capacities
and function levels.
“People say they can’t help him,
his dependency is so severe. Isn’t
that what these places exist for?”
Rick Bruno — Tinley Park resident
Funding problems
Kelly Anne Ohde, communications
director,
stressed that only the adult
program was being affected
and a myriad of issues contributed
to the “very difficult”
decision.
She explained that when
adults reach that age they’re
no longer the responsibility
of the school district, leaving
the burden of cost on
families and providers. The
State of Illinois does contribute
funding, but only raised
reimbursement rates once
since 2009, last year when
a 75 cent raise was given,
bumping most direct support
professionals to $10.88 an
hour.
“There’s a caregiver crisis
in Illinois. We cannot recruit
and retain the staff needed
for the amount of families
to provide for,” Ohde said.
“There’s a very high turnover
rate. People have to
provide for their families.”
Two years of budget impasse
in Springfield also
contributed to the program’s
demise, Ohde said.
“We could no longer do it
anymore,” she said.
Nonetheless, Rick is
pleased with the level of care
and education Dan received
at Easterseals and worries
about finding a replacement.
“I look for silver linings.
The people you meet, who
rejoice at your children’s
milestones. We encountered
a lot of those people there,”
Bruno said. “It renews your
faith in humanity.”
Busy times
The Brunos had four children
in three years. Greg,
who conveniently lives down
the block, Dan, and then two
younger twin brothers, David
and Tom, who live and
work in California as video
animators. Rick relishes the
time he gets to spend with
his two grandchildren, taking
on baby-sitting duties
twice a week.
“It was a busy time in
this house during the mid-
1980s,” Bruno said. “Dan
enjoyed playing with his
brothers growing up.”
Orange is Dan’s comfort
color. When he’s at home,
Dan is wearing an orange T-
shirt and orange gym shorts.
Never long pants. The Brunos
got him to wear different
matching colored outfits to
Easterseals, but Fridays were
always orange days.
When Dan was 2 years old,
he did something remarkable
in the eyes of his father. There
was a set of alphabetical
blocks that Dan had arranged
in proper order. None were
upside down or out of place.
Rick mixed up the blocks
when Dan was distracted and
to his astonishment, he put
them back in proper and alphabetical
order.
“There are some things he
does extremely well. He has
a great memory. If you take
him once, it’s truly remarkable,
he can tell you how to
get there,” Bruno said. “He
sees the world differently.”
Inside Dan’s room, walls
are lined with thousands of
Handmade set pieces featured in episodes of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” were created
by Dan Bruno and his mom, Jean. The Brunos got to meet Fred Rogers after developing a
relationship with a production assistant. CODY MROCZKA / 22nd Century Media
VHS tapes of Disney films
and old cartoons, custom art,
a calendar, a tent and a computer.
Easterseals taught Dan
how to access the internet, a
blessing and curse for Rick,
as Dan has amassed quite a
wish list of items, some of
which he already possesses.
“People say they can’t
help him, his dependency is
so severe,” Rick said. “Isn’t
that what these places exist
for?”
A special connection
On another wall propped
up with glass shelves, replica
television set pieces —
created by mom and son —
that were once featured in
episodes with Fred Rogers,
whom the Brunos developed
a relationship with.
“Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood”
ran from 1968-2001
and when Dan was a child, he
simply couldn’t get enough.
Dan needed to have the same
pieces that Fred Rogers used,
the only problem was they
weren’t for sale. So back in
the 1980s, Jean got a hold of
a woman who worked at the
studio. She told the Brunos
that Fred encouraged making
the pieces together, mom and
son.
The studio woman eventually
relayed the Brunos’
story to Rogers who subsequently
invited the family
to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,
for a taping of an episode.
“They didn’t do that for everyone,”
Rick said. “He spent
time with each and everyone
one those kids that day.”
But that wasn’t the end of
their relationship. For years
afterward, Fred Rogers
would send personal letters
to the Brunos asking about
Danny, never forgetting one
of his biggest fans.
The Brunos have their
own language: sounds, signs
and words translated with
patience and compassion.
On this February afternoon,
while Rick awaits a response
from a new potential
adult program for Dan after
five previous rejections, the
Brunos happen to be low on
milk, but Dan is insistent
on staying inside for the remainder
of the day.
Rick doesn’t know now,
but the next day a bit of
good news will arrive. Dan
has been accepted into a
two-week trial for an adult
program at Helping Hands
starting in early March.
“Stay here, dad,” Dan
says. “Stay here, dad.”
Rick knows this actually
means that he can go to the
store for milk by himself,
but Dan wants to stay home,
alone, which is against the
rules.
“Maybe later,” Rick says,
before rattling off more
grocery list items as Dan
promptly writes them on a
whiteboard hanging from
the refrigerator. “He’ll never
be on his own.”