There was a parent who helped me. Twenty-two hours after my own child’s diagnosis, he made a statement that I have never forgotten: “You may not realize it today, but there may come a time in your life when you will find that having a daughter with a disability is a blessing.” I can remember being puzzled by these words, which were nonetheless an invaluable gift that lit the first light of hope for me. This parent spoke of hope for the future. He assured me that there would be programs, there would be progress, and there would be help of many kinds and from many sources. And he was the father of a boy with mental retardation.