Owen Detoxes



You haven’t heard from us for a while. We have been submerged. Health protocols of Dr. Mark Hyman. Owen has been dragged along with his mother and father into a new world of vegetable and fruit smoothies, serious water consumption, and relaxing Epsom salts and baking soda baths.

Generally speaking, over the years anything that one member of the Simons family has explored has impacted the rest of us.  Things I tried out for Owen’s health always tended to trickle over into the way I cared for the other kids, to Bronwyn and Freya’s annoyance. Wellness initiatives I began for Oskar or Edward have ended up changing how I eat, and helping me. The positive thinking philosophy The Secret that Scotty brought home with him was usefully deployed for parental sanity. And when Daric left Rich Dad Poor Dad by financial guru Robert Kiyosaki lying around the house, it resulted in our garage apartment and a new revenue stream. We are just those kind of people — not as skeptical as some – willing to go boldly into new protocols. And drag everyone else along for the ride. 


Owen is happy to have PGX packets added to his ever expanding collection, and he has taken to salads with great interest. Smoothies and hot baths are always fun. But detoxing isn’t always easy.  And it isn’t always pretty. 

Detoxing Owen is uphill work.  Just for starters, remember his love of plastic and tubbing. Turns out that not only is a nice hot bath filled with plastic not a brilliant idea for detoxing a body (since the warm wet very likely accelerates the release of chemical substances by one, and their absorption by the other), but turns out the tub itself could be releasing lead. Yes, lead. I assumed a porcelain tub was dah bomb for chemical stability — I had been worried about our acrylic tub! For whatever reason, some makers of cast iron porcelain tubs incorporate lead into their manufacturing process. Madness. Idiocy! So now you know. Aren’t you glad? Another thing to worry about. There are kits that can test your tub for it. Maybe I will buy a lead testing kit.  Maybe I don’t want to know.

It turns out that the real uphill work of detoxing may not be physical. Even getting a sluggish bowel functioning is easier than decreasing STRESS.  Or, to be more accurate, moving of bowels seems to be Owen’s particular detoxing challenge, but removal of toxic levels of psychic stress and worry from my life/mind is my own. How much does a breast cancer survivor want to know about the possibilities for toxicity in the environment? Or how many more wonderful plant products should be consumed to boost the body’s ability to fight cancer?  Whether the concern is improving mental function (and that means bowel function, they are deeply connected), or fending off diabetes, or beating cancer’s recurrence, a person can only eat so many kale salads and veggie smoothies, or swallow so many supplements. My research and reflection over the past weeks shows me one thing:  the most toxic thing really has to be anxiety — that is to say stress, and its buddies fear, tension, and anger.

Well, Owen has me beat for coping with stress. He does not do stress, as far as I know.  Maybe I cause him stress. But at stressful moments, his natural reaction is to laugh. And aggravating as it is for me in that moment, laughter has to be a far healthier reaction to the poop of life than anger and frustration.


Last week I caught Owen listening to French President Emmanuel Macron. I had been busy finishing dinner and getting it to the table when I looked up to see Owen on pause, all movement stopped. He was listening. His whole face lit up into a grin. Of course I stopped everything too, to try to hear what he was hearing.  President Macron was speaking English with a heavy French accent on the National Public Radio news. As far as I could tell this cracked Owen up. His eyes twinkled, his face grew bright, his laugh was infectious. Owen has always loved accents. And here was this guy, sounding like Lumiere from Beauty and the Beast, right in the middle of Mom’s radio news! What a hoot! 

I don’t think Owen is Nationalistic, but his uses as a diplomat for peace could be limited to his capacity for infectious laughter. Maybe that would be enough. It is very healing.  And it is when I sit down to write about my life with Owen that I most benefit from the laughing, able then in reflection to see what is delightful or life-giving in what was just maddening or aggravating before. So maybe the best detoxing for me is here, at the keyboard, searching out the words to describe the essence of my life with Owen for you.

Namaste, dear readers. Here’s to your health.



Travelin’ Man


March was a travelin’ month for Owen this year. Is he lucky or put upon? I’m not sure. Traveling is exciting and Owen loves doing stuff, but it is confusing and disorienting to be sleeping and eating in new spaces, at different times, in different air and water, and to have none of the same schedule. And to not know why.  But Edward and I had decided to just take him along with us to check up on his G’mom in Florida, so two weeks after our Colorado adventure we found ourselves on an airplane once again, headed for Treasure Island.

Standing folded into the airplane lavatory to assist Owen there (a Rubeck’s Cube kind of experience) I did feel like we deserved some kind of ingenuity award. It is remarkable what can be done a tiny space. One thing about Owen – he has a sense of humor and appreciates the absurd.

Florida gave us both sun and rain,

G’mom’s beach
















warm and cold — and blustery!


Our blustery day walk was a highlight of the trip. Owen seemed pretty amused to be pushed down the beach by the bossy wind, which blew his collecting bag out at right angles to his body, spinning and spinning it round his fingers.

After Owen had added a certain amount of additional plastic bits to the marine environment of the Gulf, he and I took a rainy day drive to Jacksonville to see Peace of Heart Community Farm. During our eight plus round trip that day, we rolled through a fascinating variety of Floridian interstates, farm fields, and back roads thanks to the wonders of GPS navigating. Owen ate way too many nuts, and was heartily sick of the car by the end of that day. But we did get to witness a miracle in progress — the beginning stages of an assisted living community with a farm built in, a home that will also provide a life’s purpose and a connection to the larger community through the vegetables the residents and a their support staff (some family, some volunteer, some hired) will grow.

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POHC organic greens growing
Howard’s chickens




Peace of Heart Community Farm is the brainchild of Amy and Howard Groschell. Their daughter Gentry has autism. Years ago, Gentry and Owen attended the same clinic in Atlanta for a summer of saunas. The Groschells dreamed up and are building this beautiful home where Gentry can live and be cared for into old age, along with five other young women with autism. It has not been smooth sailing, Amy told me, it’s a concept in progress. But the garden is up and running, with a local farmer’s market presence, and some of the girls already help out.

Gentry’s paintings line the walls of the house.  After years of trying to heal her by bio-medical means, Amy says it was learning two methods of communication that made the biggest change in Gentry’s life: painting, and assisted typing.



She paints her large vibrant canvases with the assistance of her stepdad Howard. This and the method of using a keyboard with assistance allows Gentry to express herself, and have made huge difference in Gentry’s happiness, Amy told me. She shared with me the name of the woman (Marilyn Chadwick) who taught them how to use the keyboard technique. I came away from our long drive to Jacksonville full of ideas –  inspired and hopeful.

A vacation rich in experiences!  part lounging in the sun, part touring, part drinking in new ideas— oh yeah and part running after Owen and trying to keep him out of Gmom’s stuff…

The Star Wars Costumes show, St. Petersburg Fine Arts Museum

It was a remarkable trip, but we were tired and ready to get home — to our own dear, cold, recently-snowed-on Maryland to digest it all.


Photo by Kathie Constable