Adam Eastwood

When I moved my son from the school he had attended for six years to a brand-new program, something struck me hard: unlike most children, he wouldn’t be able to stay in touch with anyone from his old school. He doesn't speak. He can’t text, use social media, or make phone calls. His connections, which had taken years to build, were simply going to vanish.

That realization opened my eyes to something even more alarming. This experience wasn’t a one-time event — it would repeat again at age 22 when his public school services would end altogether. Only this time, there would be no “new school.” With the long waiting lists and limited options for adult day programs, it became painfully clear: there would be nowhere else for him to go.

This wasn’t just about access to services. It was about communication. It was about connection. It was about life.

I started asking deeper questions: What kind of social life would he have? How would he continue to interact, express himself, or simply be with others once school ended? And as I researched, I realized something that I already knew in my heart, but had not fully acknowledged: for many non-speaking and profoundly autistic adults, the world just… stops. They are often isolated at home or in group homes, with no meaningful way to communicate or connect. No friends. No fun. No future.

I decided that wasn’t good enough — not for my son, and not for the countless others like him.

That’s why I’m creating a therapeutic gym and social club for non-speaking/minimally speaking autistic adults — a space where they can engage in physical activity, receive sensory input, continue with expressive communication methods and, most importantly, be part of a community that sees them, values them, and keeps the conversation going, even if it’s not spoken aloud.

Because everyone deserves connection. Everyone deserves a place to go. And everyone deserves to be included — for life.