'Bryan's song' tells the story of a young man's life in a whole new way

Carol Forsloff - A popular, made-for-television
movie called "Brian's Song" depicted the poignancy and struggles of a
young man named Brian in a way that touched everyone.  The story of
another Bryan may touch you too.


There is an unwritten rule in journalism to resist writing about relatives, but this marriage-related
relationship might permit more liberties, because Bryan Forsloff is my
husband's son, adopted in my heart, but nevertheless not raised by me
nor was I part of his life in his formative years.  I didn't give him
his first guitar, help teach him about the values in life, or provide an
example of direction and purpose.



Yet I love him just the same, because Bryan's life is the kind that has touched me deeply; and if I
don't share it with my readers, I shall surely be amiss.



Bryan plays music, and he does it well.  Actually, not just in my opinion, but in his growing audience
there is a strong belief he has that "something special" that stands for
greatness.

He plays jazz, a form of music I never appreciated until I heard this young man play.

Admittedly, I didn't listen much during those young adult years of practice and struggle while he found his true path and sound.

I have known him more than 25 years and watched his music come alive in ways I never dreamed possible, but
then I wasn't the one who had known since his childhood the potential he could realize later.

Bryan started his musical journey in 1975 when he was 12 years old on a
Christmas morning when he got his first guitar which was a Kimberly
electric from JC Penny.   An instructor helped encourage Bryan to learn
chord progressions in a way that led to Bryan's eventual development of
his music to jazz.

 In 1981-82 Bryan finished a "Professional Entertainment Training Program"
at Green River Community College.  He describes this as an "American
idol for college credit" that he found to be an invaluable experience.
He later went on to complete a college degree in psychology at Western
Washington University in Bellingham.

Throughout much of the next two decades, most of Bryan's music was for church,
where he felt making music groove would be a good thing for the
faithful.  There was a progression to a form of smooth jazz, from the
George Benson, Grover Washington Jr. and Paul Jackson Jr. that Bryan
says had a great impact on his music.

In 1991 Bryan married Andrea, which inevitably led to the birth of his three children Natalie, Alec and Conor.

Bryan plays jazz, smooth jazz as he has made his way to that form of the
music genre, in ways that make the lovers dream, music fans of all sorts
nod approval, and people applaud with their pocketbooks along with
their thoughts,  hands and their affectionate thoughts.



And he has done this through adversity, the kind that buckles many men.  For Bryan, however,
adversity has changed to achievement, not just for him but for his
entire family.



What was that adversity?  When my
husband, Del, and I learned of it, we were shaken, frightened, worried.
Bryan had learned his twin sons, at the time very young todders at age 2
1/2, are autistic.  He had the details from a doctor.  This was in
1996.



We hurt like parents do.  We
wondered as well, why do bad things happen to good people.  Along the
way we prayed, we felt and we began to believe more and more that Bryan
would find his way and that way would be right.



 "I wanted to get in my car and
never stop driving, to get away someplace.  There was so much pain."
This was Bryan's first thought when he learned his sons, Conor and Alec,
are autistic, but not his answer.



Bryan's answer came in bits of
revelations, reflections and the doing with his heart, along with his
wife Andrea.  There was never a serious plan to leave nor any regrets
for that road not taken.



Bryan and Andrea turned crisis into
opportunity.  As they learned more about their sons, they learned more
about the potential of what they might be able to achieve.  As they
learned more, the problem of having autistic children became "less big
and overwhelming" as Bryan described it.  They learned to focus on
progress not failures.



Alec and Conor attended some school
programs, then became educated at home when their needs required it.
That education continues with Bryan the principal home-school instructor.



 A daughter, Natalie, wasn't left
out as the family grew in knowledge and experience of how to deal with
autism and lead happy lives.  Rather than ignoring this child or
explaining her brothers as some unusual dilemma the family simply had to
face, Bryan and Andrea embraced Natalie with love and involved her in
her brother's care.  As a result, Natalie became an adolescent who looks
at those with afflictions as people to gently assist, almost
instinctively thinking of others.  That's another family benefit: a
16-year-old who thinks of others first in a world where that age is
described as complicated and self-centered.



Bryan practiced music in snatches,
in those moments set aside in a basement he filled with equipment that
could accentuate his guitar and make music permanent with CDs and the
like.



The children walked in and out and
through.  They became part of the experience.  They shared the sounds;
they learned to sing.  They learned some music themselves.  The twins
grew in the atmosphere of love and creativity, and in that place they
thrived as one would want any children to do.



Autism is a difficult diagnosis for
parents.  It can devastate families or it can feed the psyche in ways
unlike the average person experiences.  Bryan and Andrea don't
complain.  They wouldn't have their lives any way than they are now.
Their love is as deep, as wonderful, as exciting as one could want all
lovers to be.



That doesn't mean raising the
children to teen years was an easy path for them.  It simply means these
parents found within themselves reservoirs of feeling and of faith that
led them to tighten their love bonds, not sever them anywhere.



From this reservoir of
pain-to-strength, from this vat of love that simply grows with time,
Bryan's music was nurtured.  His new CD is called The Final Touch.
That's not because The Final Touch is his final recording.  For me it's
because the title is that frosting on a cake that hints of sweetness,
goodness all throughout, that one can't wait to taste.



I could hesitate this praise of
Bryan and his music or never speak of it at all, but in the depths of
knowledge, where writers find their soul, I recognize that not to would
deny Bryan's his due and the world of readers the message in his "song."



Embrace this man as yours today.
For me he is my son borrowed.  Let him be close in some fashion for
you.  Let his music fill your heart.  And find in his life, as people
did with another "Brian's Song" a way to a peace and joy, the kind that
comes through inner struggles and paths people take in understanding
grief and turning it around to victory.