I would like to thank the producers of "Rain Man" for making a movie that provides a much-needed public service to the parents of autistic children.

Five years ago, my twin sons were diagnosed as having autistic tendencies.  My experience with them has given me enough of a handle on autism to say that Dustin Hoffman's portrayal of Raymond, the autistic-savant, was nearly flawless.  But I also saw in "Rain Man" the potential for making my life a little bit easier.

Life with handicapped children is no stroll in the park, but attempting to live a normal life could be made easier if people stopped subscribing to medieval ideas concerning "retarded" people.

I'm not suggesting a great number of people haven't helped my family and me over the years, but I'm not talking about them. I refer to those who, when I have felt obligated to explain my sons' extraordinary behavior, tend to eye me suspiciously and pronounce, "Well, they don't look retarded."

Of course they don't.  They're not retarded; they're autistic.  They don't act the way they do because they're stupid; they act that way because they live in a world of their own, and something foreign to them is being forced into that world.  They are reacting to it in the only way they are capable.

This is difficult to explain to a total stranger in 10 words or less, especially while your child is going through what appears to be a grand-mal tantrum because you bought cereal that was the wrong color.

Casual observers often mistake autism for stubbornness, which gives rise to comments such as, "There's nothing wrong with those children, it's just the way you raised them."  Or, my personal favorite, "He wouldn't act like that if you disciplined him more often" - which, I assume, implies it is my fatherly duty to take a child who doesn't know what he is doing and beat him senseless for doing it.

My friend tells me the American Indians believed autistic children were touched by God.  I'm not saying I believe or disbelieve this theory, but it certainly promotes a better attitude toward disabled people than subscribed to by many members of today's supposedly civilized society.

Every person who sees "Rain Man" is one less person to whom I have to explain things -- things at which visitors to our home generally look askance.  It explains the chain latches on the doors, put there not to keep intruders out but to keep the children from wandering away during the night.  It explains why all the upstairs windows are nailed shut (autistic children have trouble grasping abstract ideas such as height and death).  It explains why we don't get out much.  And it explains why we have trouble retaining a babysitter.

There are, however, two misconceptions the average person may form after watching the movie: that all autistics are savants, and that all autistics are incurable.

This is not the movie's fault. "Rain Man" tells just one man's story. Autistic people, just like 'regular' people, are all different.

In my case, only one of my sons was a savant. His particular talent was being able to tell which day of the week any date you gave him would fall on, and he developed an interesting way of displaying it.  "When is your birthday?" he would ask a total stranger whenever we went out in public.  The unsuspecting person, charmed by this ingenuous child, would say, "June 24th."  "That's a Saturday," my son would reply.

Within minutes a crowd would form and people would begin calling out dates to this bewildered six-year old-bewildered not by the dates, but by the idea these people really didn't know September 16, 1986, fell on a Tuesday.

This same child also disproves the second potential misconception, because he is now in second grade and is doing as well as most of the other children in his class.  He is not longer a savant. If you walk up to him and say, "August 3, 1981," he will look at you as if you're crazy; he cannot remember being able to tell on which day of the week it fell.

My other son is making progress, but still is very much a miniature version of Hoffman's autistic Raymond.  He rocks and sings radio jingles until you'd like to scream.  He has one set of clothes he will wear.  He has certain programs he insists on watching, certain foods he insists on eating and certain stores he will go into.

How the movie has helped me is that now, if we happen to go into the wrong store or if I happen to pick out the wrong brand of macaroni and cheese and he draws the attention of everyone within a 100-yard radius by expressing his confusion, I can look to our audience and say, "Have you seen 'Rain Man'?"  This generally is enough to turn their disapproving stares into looks of understanding and compassion.