Animal Attraction

CINDIE BROOKS’ infant daughter, Michelle, cried for the better part of her first three years of life. A longtime Tarrytown resident, Brooks had no idea why she cried or what to do to stop her from crying. Cindie just had to hope that eventually, Michelle would grow out of it.

Michelle didn’t. Children on the autism spectrum tend not to “just grow out of it,” but Cindie didn’t know that back then. Nor, apparently, did the experts she took her daughter to see.

“Michelle was miserable, and it later became obvious she was very developmentally delayed,” Cindie said. “Early on, doctors would tell me to put her in a home and not think about her because there was no diagnosis that they could figure out.”

To make the matters worse, Cindie couldn’t keep a babysitter, so her mother looked after the crying infant while Cindie worked or took a much-needed breather.

By the time Michelle was old enough to go to school, Cindie was well aware that her daughter needed special attention, so she enrolled her in a private school in New Orleans, but the school only went up to age 14. After that, Cindie would have to find another private school that offered special attention. Cindie had taught in New Orleans public schools briefly, so she knew what would happen to Michelle there.

“She’d have been eaten alive,” Cindie said. “So, as she was about to turn 14 — still undiagnosed — I tried to find a boarding school that would take a child with special needs. I thought I’d found one, but they ended up not taking her because she was so complicated, and her condition was so foreign that nobody knew how to deal with her.”

One day, a neighbor who knew Michelle and understood the situation told Cindie, “I taught in Austin, Texas. You may not find good special education in the schools there, but you will find a community that will respect her differences.” 

That was enough to convince Cindie to leave her home state and her friends and her job and move here.

One weekend, she flew in, checked out Westlake but chose Austin High. She felt a kinship with a Special Ed teacher, who assured her that her daughter could handle it and would be helped if she stumbled.

She wouldn’t be eaten alive.

That was 1986. 

The Special Ed program at Austin High served its purpose, and Michelle saw some success as the water girl for one of the girls basketball teams.

But she made no friends. Not one. In a moment of uncharacteristic clarity, Michelle told her mom, “I’m like a bump on a pickle.’”

•••

Before we move on, here’s some back story. 

Cindie grew up the third of six children in Church Point, Louisiana — in Acadia Parish, about a 20-minute drive from Lafayette and Opelousas.

“You do not get any more Cajun than Church Point,” she said. “And the only thing my little Cajun mother absolutely wanted in life was to make sure every one of her children had a college education.”

Rather than attending the notoriously woeful public schools, Cindie enrolled in parochial schools in Opelousas through the eighth grade. And then, Cindie attended the Academy of the Sacred Heart in Grand Coteau, an all-girls school established in 1821.

“I was basically cloistered. For four years, I rarely watched a movie and didn’t listen to music,” she said. “I was vaguely aware of the Beatles. One day, I heard Aretha Franklin sing ‘R-E-S-P-E-C-T’ and thought she was singing ‘R-E-S-T-E-D.’”

She graduated at the top of her class of 21 in 1965 and headed to LSU, where she wanted to major in communications or radio/television.

 “No chance,” her little Cajun mother huffed. “You’re going to be a teacher.”

So, Cindie majored in education and taught long enough to say she did. Then, she found a job in radio — and not just at any station but at WNOE, the 100,000-watt station in New Orleans. She worked the “night flight to midnight” shift, and then was moved to the 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. slot where she hosted and produced her own show for folks we now refer to as “foodies.” 

“Think of the best job a person could have and get paid for it,” she said. “That was my job. It was awesome.”

Among others, Cindie chatted with exercise guru Richard Simmons, talk-show host Sally Jessy Raphael and legendary New Orleans chef Paul Prudhomme. Now and then, the sous chef at Commanders Palace would swing by with a banana crème pie or a plate of Muffaletta-style deviled eggs. His name is Emeril Lagasse.

The show’s motto: Something’s always cooking at WNOE.

She once interviewed Debbi Kempton Smith, Prudhomme’s personal astrologer. He’d fly Smith in from New York to intuit the cosmic influences of stars and planets on napkin choices, wine glasses, menu selections and so forth.

Afterwards, Smith would swing by WNOE and guest-host Cindie’s show.

“Debbi was witty, irreverent, very direct,” Cindie said. “Definitely my kind of guest. The last time she co-hosted my show, I told her I was moving to Austin. I had to for my daughter’s sake. And she said, ‘Just so you know, here in New Orleans, you are in a longitude and latitude where there’s been a black cloud hanging over you. Now, you’re moving to a longitude and latitude of energy and light. And that’s what we have here. Energy and light.”

Cindie moved to Austin in 1985. Even though she’d twice been a finalist for New Orleans’ “Disc Jockey of the Year” Award, she had trouble breaking into the Austin radio scene.

Eventually, she found a job at KVET/KASE and then bounced around every time one media conglomerate bought or sold another one. She briefly hosted and produced “Austin CloseUp,” which featured the likes of Willie Nelson, Ann Richards, Darrell Royal, George H.W. Bush and assorted see-and-be-seen types.

She also served briefly as a one-person news “updater” on KBVO and then anchored the weather on KEYE. By 1998, she’d grown weary of the grind and told a friend she didn’t think she’d renew her contract with KEYE.

“So, I suppose I’m going to be looking for something else to do,” Cindie said, and the friend gushed, “You would be great as a business development rep.”

 As luck would have it, Chicago Title needed a business development rep.

“I had no idea then the full impact of title insurance,” Cindie said, “but I took the job, and that job has kept me here since.”

Meanwhile, Michelle finished Austin High successfully enough for Cindie to hold out hope she might be able to handle higher education, and she found a school in Birmingham, Alabama, that agreed to admit her. 

“I wanted her to have an opportunity to try the whole ‘college experience’ thing,” Cindie said. 

It didn’t work.

“We don’t know what to do with her,’” they told Cindie, so Michelle returned home and took a job at Randall’s bagging groceries and cleaning spills on Aisle 3. Again, she made no friends.

“When I met Michelle, loneliness was her biggest challenge,” said Dr. Pat Love, a professor, noted author and successful marriage and family therapist. “Part of the cause of her loneliness was her inability to read social cues. She had difficulty editing her thoughts. In many ways, she never had an unspoken thought. She was challenged in reading others’ reactions. She would interrupt. She would call attention to a person’s flaws. She would overreact to comments, often reading negative intent when it wasn’t there. Her anxiety was palpable.”

Michelle suffered. So did Cindie.

“This was my prayer every day,” Cindie said. “‘God, please give this child a friend. Just one. That’s all I ask.’”

•••

One afternoon, that friend showed up. His name is Roy Cameron. For the past 30 years, he’s been a custodian with the Austin Independent School District. Like Michelle, he has issues. He is intellectually challenged because of a brain injury he sustained in his youth. He and Michelle had crossed paths in Special Olympics as teenagers but didn’t actually meet for another 20 years. 

Roy lost a dollar in a Coke machine outside the Randalls where Michelle worked, and she walked over to see if she could help. Something clicked, and they became a couple — functional, independent partners, and last October, they celebrated 17 years of marriage. 

It helped considerably that Dr. Love diagnosed Michelle’s specific disability — she was on the autism disorder spectrum.

“A big challenge for Michelle was in no way her fault or her doing,” she said. “She was born before we knew about aspergers syndrome or the spectrum.”

Of course, Cindie had no clue what the “spectrum” was, and she’d never heard of aspergers. No one back in Church Point or Opelousas or Grand Coteau or even New Orleans had mentioned it to her, let alone diagnosed it or offered tips or treatments that might have saved Michelle years of misery.

For example, Cindie didn’t know that children with autism spectrum disorders crave structure and consistency. The last thing they need is a clown popping out of a Jack-in-the-Box and blurting, “Aye!”

While some kids might giggle at this, Michelle screamed bloody murder.

“She couldn’t relate to things that other kids related to,” Cindie said. “It was so confusing, but once we received the diagnosis, that was all we needed. I later asked Michelle to please, please, please forgive me. I didn’t know.”

Michelle answered, “I didn’t either, Mom.”

All they knew was that Michelle couldn’t bring herself to hug her grandmother or look her in the eye. 

“Once I learned more about her condition, everything started making sense,” Cindie said. “I realized I couldn’t have done anything more harmful to a kid on the spectrum.”

•••

What saved Michelle during the worst of her childhood days were animals, particularly dog and cats. She loved them. They loved her. And, for once, she caught a break. Austin Pets Alive moved into the space that used to be a gas station at the northeast corner of Exposition and Windsor.

All of her life, Michelle had never had anyone to relate to until she started volunteering at Austin Pets Alive. The people working there loved — and still love — animals every bit as much as she does, so she asked to volunteer and made it known that no job was too menial or vile. She cleaned cages, washed laundry, scooped poop, did whatever needed to be done. If it helped an animal, she was glad to do it. 

In time, she developed a special bond with the animals that weren’t going to make it because they were too complicated or too injured or too sick.

So, Michelle and Roy decided they’d personally nurture these unfortunate creatures, especially the so-called “hospice” cats. They’d do whatever had to be done to ease their pain and sorrow until they, as Michelle says, “leave for their Rainbow Bridge.” 

It takes money to provide this level of attention, so two years ago, Cindie broached the idea of forming a non-profit organization dedicated to caring specifically for terminally ill cats. Partnered with Austin Pets Alive, Michelle and Roy solicited and collected donations, carted cats back and forth to the vet, cleaned, fed, brushed, stayed up all night if necessary, rubbing their heads during their final moments. 

“I often tell people, ‘If I am on a lifeboat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with Michelle and a dog or cat, and Michelle has to toss one of us overboard to save the others, I’m in big trouble.’”

•••

This love story has one more plot twist. 

In 2018, Cindie met — through a friend of a friend — a former college wrestler, chemistry professor, oil company president, business entrepreneur, patent-holder, tennis and pickleball player, Harley-Davidson enthusiast and all-round pedal to the metal go-getter. His name was Les Paull, and he lived in Austin.

“Les had projects going on all over the place,” Cindie said. “He was more than a Renaissance man. He was truly beyond this world.”

She knew right off she’d found a soulmate. When she explained to Les that she was part of a package deal, he fully embraced Michelle and Roy and their love of and devotion to animals, so much so that he filled out all the IRS forms to classify the new non-profit organization, CATS ‘R US, as a 501c3.

Cindie and Les never married, but she was listed as his “partner” in his September 2021 obituary. He suffered a massive heart attack after finishing a long bicycle ride at his country home outside Durango, Colorado.

“The last thing he said to me was, ‘I’ll call you when I get back from my ride,’” Cindie said. “Michelle has said more than once that Les had one of the greatest impacts on her life. Because of his extraordinary efforts and his belief in her passion and her commitment to animals, he made her dream of helping them come true.”

•••

Now 50 years old, Michelle has made remarkable progress with her social and interpersonal skills.

“I hope you get a chance to see how different Michelle is today,” Dr. Love said. “Her communication skills have improved 1000 percent. She asks personal, kind questions that are very appropriate. She can express her anxiety and let others know when she’s anxious and why she’s anxious. She can maintain eye contact. She can ask for what she wants. She is sensitive to caring for others. She can make a plan and follow through. She can interpret technical information. She has so many skills that were undeveloped barely a decade or so ago.”

Most importantly, she has found love. Michelle’s father, Mike Brooks, said he also feels blessed with their special relationship.

“Michelle and Roy show love and receive love and have built a happy life together,” Dr. Roy said. “For years, Cindie prayed for Michelle to have just one friend, and now Michelle has a friend for life and is living the dream with the love of her life. Very few people get to do that.”

Cindie calls that relationship, “The greatest story of love ever.”

“Michelle always held a cat or an animal close to her,” she said. “That’s what literally saved her life. I don’t think Michelle would have made it without them. So that’s why today she’s saving their lives.”