OFFEND THAT DEAFIE? IMPOSSIBLE!

As a youngster, most of us are taught what is considered rude and what is considered, shall we say, “politically correct.” But one question might be, do those rules apply for everyone in every situation? I high doubt that every single situation calls for the same response or behavior.

I was teaching a sign language course a week ago and the subject of “Deaf people being blunt” came up. One student spoke out, “So it’s impossible to offend a Deaf person?” Ha! I sincerely doubt there is anyone with normal emotions (Hearing, Deaf, Black, White, Female, Male, etc.),of whom it is impossible to offend. Tell a Deaf person they can’t do something because they’re deaf. I think that might rattle a few cages. In general Deaf people and Hearing people feel things the same way. We’ve just experienced life differently and respond in different ways. It doesn’t make us easy targets for rudeness or bullies.

At a Deaf gathering a while ago, I had a friend ask me how I felt about being so fat. I knew he wasn’t trying to be rude. So I told him, It sucks being fat. I’m working on it.” And let it go. What I wanted to say was,”How’s does it feel to be ugly?” But THAT would have definitely been rude…and politically incorrect (Whatever the heck that means).

Although Deaf and hard of hearing people may have a slight reputation for being blunt, that doesn’t make us a group of people who have no feelings. So, yes, you can offend a Deaf person. And yes, a Deaf person can offend a hearing person. That’s just how life goes. So the next time you feel like testing this theory out, take a moment and think, How would I feel if something asked or said the same thing to me? You might decide to push your OFF button and rethink what you have to say.

Sympathy? What's That?

I don’t write in my blog enough. I use to, but my depression got the best of me and then I just ended up stopping. Couldn’t think of anything funny to write about. However, even when I’ve got a world of writer’s block in me, people still seem to find my blog and read it. I’m so, so happy about that.

I get people asking all sorts of things, like where an ASL class might be located or if a certain situation really did happen. Some want me to read books and give reviews about them (I’m not so good at that since I really only read non-fiction and most of the books they want me to read are fiction). But sometimes I do get requests to be interviewed. 

In fact, last week I received an email from a teenaged girl who “found” my blog and wanted to know if I would answer some questions to help her with a project at school. Sure! Of course I said yes. Always happy to help where I can. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t be of much help to her. See, her project was to compare the kind of sympathy for the blind with the kind of sympathy for the deaf.

The problem I ran into was that deaf people don’t really get sympathy. Rolled eyes, we get. Frustration. Angry communicators. We get all that. But very, very few people actually feel sorry for us. It’s more of a nuisance to them.

“Hi! I was just wondering if you could come speak with my class about deafness.”

“I’m sorry, what? Can you write that down? I’m deaf and cannot lipread. I need you to write for me.”

“Nevermind. I’ll ask someone else.”

Good luck with that! If you’re looking for a deaf person, you better be ready to write at least some of your conversation. Or repeat it slowly three times. (This, of course, does not include those who lipread like a pro.) Fact is, communicating with a deafie can be difficult. Not always, but often. And people don’t like that. In fact, they hate that! The thing is, deaf people don’t look deaf. You can’t decipher a deaf person from a hearing person just upon looking. So it’s a shock or a surprise or a grenade thrown right in their faces if they find you can’t handle small talk. No thanks. I’m not up to that much trouble. I’ll just move on over to this other person.

And it hurts sometimes. They leave. Sometimes they just turn and walk away without any acknowledgement. Ouch.

The blind, on the other hand, are visible. People can and do sympathize with someone who can’t see this beautiful world. Let me help you across the street. Would you like me to read that to you? What do you need? I can help!

Now, I’m not blind and, in fact, I only know a few blind people, so forgive my ignorance if I’m wrong. But they do get sympathy. I see it all the time. It’s that inevitable question:

If you could be blind or deaf which would you choose? And everyone chooses deaf. Why, “Because it would be easier. At least I can drive (you do drive, don’t you?) and I would have to learn Braille. If I were deaf, I could just learn sign language and everything would be normal otherwise.”

Ha! What’s “normal?” And as a matter of fact, if you learned sign language, who exactly would you be signing to? Are all of your family members and friends going to learn it, too? Will the world be able to cater to you if you know ASL? Dude, you have no idea what you would be getting yourself into.

Anyway, back to the question the teenager asked me (remember her from above?). Compare the two, sympathy-wise. I can’t. They’re two totally separate entities, each with unique and diverse experiences. I’d like to say that no two experiences are alike, but that’s not true. That’s what makes this blog helpful. Other deafies can read it and say, “I’ve been there.” Hearing people can read it and be baffled at how ludicrous the situations are.  Blind or deaf? Who gets more sympathy? There’s no comparison because there’s very little sympathy for the deaf population (though it’s not unfounded in some circumstances).

As for me, I don’t want anyone’s sympathy for my deafness. I am part of a great community of people who have a rich and diverse culture. I’m Deaf. I sign. It’s how I communication. Now, do I miss sound at any time? Hell, yeah! I’d do anything to hear music again or listen to my kids’ voices (of which I’ve never heard). But I don’t need people looking at me like I’m some fragile person who needs to be saved.

I never heard back from the girl after I explained the situation of deaf versus blind. Don’t know if she went to another source to try to find an answer she liked better or if what I gave was sufficient and she needn’t contact me again. That’s OK though. I don’t expect an answer. I do wonder if it surprised her. I wonder if this surprises you. Did you already know or is this news to you? 

BABY, TAKE A BOW!

Being invited to a party isn’t something that regularly occurs for me. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m kind of reclusive and keep most of my socializing at home. People don’t know my face as well as they know my name from Deaf Expressions and such. But I was invited to a party with Kenny and I was a little reluctant. I mean, I would be the only deaf person there. Sure, Kenny would be there and he always happily interprets for me, but this party was to have a bunch of his friends and I didn’t want to make him interpret the entire time. Hence, I knew that there would be times when I would be on my own.

Prepared with a pen and notebook to write to people when necessary, I bundled up the nerve to get out of the car and approach the house with Kenny that night. It was a beautiful house. Small, but very nice and I knew the people who lived there, the people having the party, were nice, too. Kathy and Jack had socialized with Kenny and me a few times. Well, not Jack. He always seemed to have somewhere else to be. But Kathy tried to have conversations when she dropped off her kid to play with my kid or I saw her at school. Mostly it was just a wave of the hand though.

Being at the party was pretty cool. I like dancing. No, there wasn’t actual dancing, but I got to see a move that I think teenagers would get a kick out of and maybe make into the new fad thing to do on the dance floor.

Just like any other party, Kenny and I would approach people and they would smile and we would smile and they would speak and Kenny would interpret to me what they said and they would begin bowing. Yes, that’s right: Bowing. But before the bowing, this huge smile would come on their faces. Much like the Joker in Batman. Their eyes would widen like a deer in the headlights, too. Now, put this huge smile and these bug eyes together and you get something not unlike what you would see in a horror film right before this smiling person stabbed you to death. Kind of a Chucky the Doll sort of thing.

But smiling and opening your eyes so wide they almost fall out of their head wasn’t enough. I could tell that, as soon as they realized there was a deafie in their midst, they needed the conversation to be over as soon as possible. This is when the bowing would begin. It happened the same way every single time: They would say something very short. Next, they’d watch Kenny interpret it. Then they’d watch me for my reaction. Finally they’d start nodding and bowing. Ta-da! They’d appear to say! Mission accomplished! I communicated with the Deaf chick! I am a saint! IT IS FINISHED! Then they’d start to slowly back away (bowing as they backed up, of course) until they bumped into someone else. Having to apologize (but of course—that’s the right thing to do), they’d turn to that other person, start a conversation, and that would be the end of it. Goodbye.

After a few of these encounters, I assured Kenny it was fine for him to go chat with some old friends and I found myself a comfy chair and huge alcoholic beverage and proceeded to sit there, doodling in my notebook. Every now and then someone would come up to me and start to talk. I would give them my biggest smile, letting them know I was Deaf, but had pen and paper to write on if we needed it, and watch them slowly bow away. It got to be so much that I felt like royalty. All I needed was a purple sash and one of those Princess rings you can get on QVC for only $29.95.

The party wasn’t a complete waste of time. Not at all. I’m glad we went. Kenny got to chat up some old friends and it looked like he had a blast. And I got to practice my doodling skills while imagining I was married to Prince Kenny and living in the Royal Shack. 

I AM DEAF AND THAT'S OK!

Last week, I attended a deaf convention. It was for an organization that claims to focus on people with adult-onset hearing loss (late-deafened adults, LDAs). I attended a few of their other conventions in the past, but it’s been five years since the last one. I wasn’t sure how it would go. I had talked with LDAs and had always felt like the bulk of them spend 99% of their time trying to stay in the “hearing world” and “fix” themselves. I don’t see my deafness that way. When I lost the last of my hearing a long time ago, I accepted that I was then completely deaf and I went about joining the “Deaf world.”

Anyway, I thought it would be a great experience. I thought I would meet tons of people who signed and, at the same time, knew (and accepted) what it was like to be both a hearing person (in the past) and a deaf person (in the present). That wasn’t what I found though. Instead, I found CIs galore, amplified telephones, and people talking to each other a mile a minute. It didn’t take me very long to realize that I didn’t fit in there. And this upset me greatly. Seems that organization has followed the trend of such groups as Hearing Loss Association of America, and it was just a bunch of people who tried to pull themselves of as Hard of Hearing at best.

When I moved to West Michigan ten years ago, I went about trying to find the Deaf community and meeting people. I have met many, many wonderful people in the process. But one thing stands out, and that is that I did not grow up here, did not go to school here, and am not really part of the cohesive group here. Part of that is circumstantial (in general, the Deaf crowd grows up together and stays pretty close) and part of that was my own darn fault (I am extremely shy and self-conscious, so I don’t jump into groups and make friends easily). However, the fact remains that I’ve met so many great people in the West Michigan Deaf Community. I thought this other organization would be even easier.

I figured, here are people who grew up hearing or hard of hearing and learned to speak before deafness. But this group wasn’t full of “deafies.” Far from it. And, because I am a deafie, it was isolating and painful.

Trying to find out where you fit in in life and groups can be a very painful process. Sometimes things go your way and it’s easy, but most of the time you have to have some real cojones and a ton of resiliency….things I do not possess. So where do I fit in? Where do I go to find people to bond with and grow with and have fun with? Am I so scared of my surroundings that I give off an aire of witchiness? Is there something about me specifically that turns people away? Or do I just have a very poor ability of finding the right people? Not sure.

But I do know that I am Deaf. I am bi-cultural and bi-lingual and I accept that I will never hear again. I need Sign Language to communicate and do not possess lipreading skills that are worth very much. I use a Video Phone and teach ASL and hang out watching captioned movies and talking in places with good lighting. I am Deaf. And I’m OK with that. I don’t want to be “fixed.” I just want to be accepted.

IT IS WHAT IT IS...AND I LIKE THAT

The other night, I was laying bed, watching the auditions for the new show, “The X Factor,” when something hit me. It was my teenaged daughter, Mollie, trying to get my attention with a sock. Apparently, I was so engrossed in the show that I didn’t notice her standing in the corner, jumping up and down and waving her arms. She’d been doing this for the past five minutes, but, hey, I was watching an interesting segment!

See, there was a young man on the show. He was the only “normal-sized” member of an all-dwarf family (those were the terms the family used). It really melted my heart, because what I observed was the ease the family had with each other. This guy (who, if I remember right, was still a teenager) thought nothing of getting down on his knees for a big mama hug or looking down to have a totally natural conversation with his father. Am I starting to sound ignorant yet? I am ignorant of that culture and life. But really! It was the naturalness that struck me (aside from the dirty, balled-up sock I had to peel out of my hair). He never knew any different, so there was no judgment of the things he had to do with the members of his family.

That made me think about my own kids. Youngsters, ages 11, 12 and 14, who signed before they ever spoke and think nothing of living in both the Deaf and Hearing cultures. Standing in the room, jumping up and down, pelting their mother with slimy, old pieces of clothing, is never given a second thought. It just is what it is. It’s a fact of life around here. Sign Language is no more embarrassing for them than back-flips are to clowns. OK. That made no sense. I’m not in the mood to Google other comparisons at the moment, so just go with it.

Seriously though. I love the fact that the kids aren’t embarrassed about the differences in our family. Even my teenager likes to hang out with my Deaf friends, “because they’re funny and have funny faces.” Hmmm. OK, maybe that one isn’t the greatest example. She just likes the animation of ASL, but those are the words this genius chose to use, so I typed them.

Stomping on floors, “speaking” through windows, using facial grammar, heck, even jumping up and down in the corner of the room for five minutes, are natural expressions of needing to communicate. I like that. I like that I’m not seen by them as weird or embarrassing. Well, yes, I am, but it has nothing to do with my deafness and that’s my point. All moms are weird and embarrassing to their kids at some point. But I’m not more so. And that makes me happy. Mom is Deaf. We need to do this and that to have a full and rich relationship with her. It just is what it is. Now, someone come over here and do my laundry, so I don’t have to deal with dirty socks in my hair anymore.

DON'T CALL ME THAT! Are Some People Too Sensitive In Regard to Terminology?

People have their opinions. Anyone who reads my (or anyone’s) blog will clearly know that. Opinions exist about everything from the President of the United States to the price of gas to whether Kim Kardashian’s boobs look real. OK. I actually don’t have an opinion on that one.

One thing that’s been discussed in many different ways is what terms are acceptable when referring to minority groups. Political correctness has become the goal for everyone as each person strives to decipher what’s right, what’s wrong, what’s polite, and what’s downright rude.

The Deaf Culture considers itself a minority group of sorts. Not disabled—just a group of people who cohesively use a language other than English to communicate. Where hearing people might consider a Deaf person communicatively handicapped if they walked into a room of hearing people talking; those same hearing people would be equally handicapped if they walked into a room full of Deaf people fluently signing in ASL.

When a hearing person refers to a Deaf individual, there begins a debate of which terms can safely be used and which terms should be laid to rest. Terms such as “deaf and dumb” or “deaf mute” are obviously no longer considered couth. I know many Deaf people who are oodles smarter than any hearing person I’ve ever known. And I’ve yet to meet a Deaf person who does not have fully functioning vocal cords—thus they are not definably “mute.”

Even the term “hearing impaired” is frowned upon by the Deaf Community. I mean, who wants to be labeled “impaired” about anything? I certainly don’t. Nope. The terms of choice are simple: “Deaf” or “Hard of Hearing.” No, “Deaf” is not derogatory. It’s a statement of fact. I’m proud to be called that and personally have never had an occasion when it didn’t sit right with me. I’m Deaf and proud to carry that label.

For those who are unable to understand the spoken work without aid but are not comfortable with “deaf,” “hard of hearing” is a pretty generalized phrase that should sit OK with most.  Of course, as I said before, everyone has their own feelings and sometimes it’s just easier to ask a person what term they prefer. If in doubt, no worries. Why even refer to a person based on their hearing status? Call them by their name. That’s usually safe. Usually.

Then there are people who take things to an extreme (in my opinion). People who say, “Don’t say, ‘can’t hear.’ That’s so negative!” or “Don’t say, ‘has trouble hearing’—you’re just focusing on what’s wrong.” But, dude! Sometimes you have to use words that might point out someone’s inability (“Don’t say, ‘inability!’”) to comprehend certain sounds (“Don’t say, ‘sound’!”). Whatever.

Like Bill Cosby once said—“ “I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.”

Terminology is a personal thing. You gotta go with what feels right. If a certain person requests you use a certain word, then use it. What do you like to be called? Me? I prefer “Michele.”

CAN ANYONE HELP THIS DEAF "MAGOO"???

Whenever I get into a grouchy mood, I always make sure I let my husband know by telling him, “I’m a Magoo.” In case you don’t know him, Mr. Magoo was a very happy-go-lucky, almost blind cartoon character from when I was growing up—and before. Although, in general, he was a pleasant guy, I always think of Magoo from when he played the part of “Scrooge.” I pretty sure he got grumpy (not 100% sure though, but it’s enough for me…and Kenny knows what I’m talking about anyway). Therefore, when I say, “I’m a Magoo,” he knows what I mean: I’m in my hate-everything mood.

In fact, I’ve been a Magoo for quite some time this summer. Summer is usually a total Magoo season for me. I’m stuck at home with three kids who are always “bored,” with no money to go anywhere but the library or Speedway for a slushie, and with no friends to hang with. To add to that this year, I’ve been in charge of planning my parent-in-laws’ 50^th wedding anniversary. And, after months of planning and sending out invites and buying decorations, the time has arrived for the party. It is to be held on the 16^th of July (one week and one day from today).

There is a pretty big difference between my family growing up and my husband’s family growing up. My family is a bit more formal, while his parents are pretty low-keyed and easy going (when it comes to hanging out).  So, for MY parents’ 25^th anniversary, we had a pretty fancy schmancy party. That was about 15 years ago. And this year, for KENNY’S parents’ 50^th anniversary, we rented a pavilion at a nearby park, invited family from all over the country, and will be having a BBQ. To make matters even more casual, when my mother-in-law found out about the party, she immediately decided she would be the one to prepare the lunch.

And so the plan is for us to decorate, have lunch, do a toast, eat some cake and enjoy ourselves. At least, that’s my hope….for others. For me? I’m a Magoo. Sure, I’m excited about the decorating and I really hope they have a wonderful time. But that last part – “enjoy ourselves”?? That would include “me” and that’s one I don’t know if I’ll be able to do.

There I’ll be. One solitary deaf member of the family standing around in silence while 100 other hearing people surround me. I’d say, of the 100 people that are going to be there, only four of them have been around me since I became stone deaf. No one can sign. I can’t lipread. I am not a people person. All of these things make me cringe a bit when thinking of what’s to come.

So, I did what I normally do when I’m feeling something I’m thinking is wrong: I went to the library and got myself a book on happiness. Didn’t like it. Nothing they said made me happy. Phooey on them.

Then I got a book on optimism, but I never read it because it’s probably not any good anyway.

Next was a book on how to tolerate being around anyone annoying. I couldn’t read it. The picture on the cover annoyed me and the inside picture of the author made me very unhappy and pessimistic.

Finally, I got a book on appreciation. It wasn’t bad, though it probably wasn’t very hard to write. I mean, it’s not like the author had to work very hard to say, “You got it better than you think you did, so stop whining!” Yet, it did make me feel a bit more in place. (But it wasn’t making me appreciate anything either). Kidding…….

We leave for Illinois on Monday. The party is the following Sunday. I will have paper and pen in my hands, a keyboard sitting on the side of the table I’m sitting at, and a book to read as I hide in the corner. That’s my plan. But there’s gotta be more advice out there on having a relaxing time and making communication not as difficult besides, “Ask them to write,” and such.

Perhaps you have some advice for me? How to smile and actually enjoy myself for the long party and the visiting before and after (we’re talking days). Other than, “Stick close to your husband and kids so they can interpret for you.”

So, if you have any advice, now would be a great time to give it to me. I may be a Magoo, but, if I remember correctly, he was all ears (well, all head anyway). And I’m all eyes. Hit me with it!

STEREOTYPING: Do You Stereotype the Deaf and Hard of Hearing Community?

 

ster·e·o·type /ˈsterēəˌtīp/ : Noun: A widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person or thing.

I’ve done it. Admit it, so have you. In fact, I’d have a hard time believing anyone who says that they've never once in their lifetime applied a stereotype to another person. It’s a sad, sad fact that that’s what happens all too often in the world. And, while I’ll honestly and sheepishly admit that I’ve stereotyped certain individuals, I can also honestly say that I’m ashamed. That makes everything all right. Right? Uh...no.

I preach and preach about not doing that very thing, and, yet, there I was on Father’s Day, at a restaurant filled to the brim with different people and groups to judge. And judge, I did. Shame on me.

Tables filled up with lazy people (heavyset and people who chew with their mouths open), racists (bald white guys with tattoos on their necks), and people who could no longer care for themselves (the elderly). Isn’t that just awful of me to write "out loud?"

Think about it. You see heavy people, bald people, tattooed people, people wearing culottes and hair bonnets, or people of different ethnicities. You see them and you immediate get a thought going through your brain. A thought that says, “I know these people. I know their type. These people are people who…(fill in the blank)." For most people, I would like to hope, it’s a passing thought that you don’t pay much attention to. But for some, maybe not.

Are you reading this and thinking, “Not me. I never stereotype people?” Hmmm. Well, if it’s true, you are definitely someone I’d like to be friends with. A person of character. A little delusional, maybe, but well-meaning.

But even though I find it hard to get out of my head (at the first moment), who am I to judge the judgers when I become upset by those who stereotype me?

I’m Deaf. People don’t usually really judge me before they find that out. That's because there's no way to tell I'm Deaf till I start signing. But once that’s discovered, watch out. All of a sudden I can’t drive, speak, make love, learn, laugh, comprehend, or interact. I was sent away for school where I learned how to use ASL and lean on others in this society. If I’m lucky, I can read at a 3^rd grade reading level and learn to do manual labor. If the cards are in my favor, I will meet a hearing man who will take me under his arm and protect me from the confines of this world. Perhaps I will have children, but they will be cursed with deafness and amount to very little.

Sound like the ideas of anyone you know? I hope not, but it’s likely you think it does.

And then, maybe, by a long-shot, they’ll get to know me. A college-educated, published author with a keen sense of humor (I think I’m hilarious), who is only THE best driver on the road (don’t question this—just accept it). I speak as clearly as a hearing person (though I’m told some hearing people don’t speak so clearly), make love just fine (I would like to hope), learn quickly (E=MC2) and am able to function just fine in this “Hearing World” (I  HATE that term) we live in. I’m not a stereotype. I’m just me. And that should be enough for anyone.

So, as I sat judging at the restaurant and getting irritated at how many tables were staring at us, enjoying the hand show as we tried to enjoy our meal, I realized that I was wrong. I’m wrong to stereotype. Just as wrong as those who stereotype me.

The next time you see someone or witness part of a circumstance, ask yourself, how would you feel if the roles were reversed? Could that have been you? And if you reacted in a way perhaps too familiar, would that make you a stereotype?

The Bible talks about the splinter and the plank. If you don’t know what I mean, look it up. I have a splinter. That much I know. But it wasn’t till I was trying to leave the restaurant that I noticed that plank sticking out of my eye. It ain't easy walking through a swinging door with that thing. What? You say you don't have one? Hmmm.

So, tell me? Do you stereotype? Do you judge me or any of the million of people with hearing loss? If so, I’d love to hear from you. I’d love for you to come forth and leave a comment telling me just what I am and how I behave.  Because, I for one haven’t the faintest clue. It depends on my moods and feelings. In fact, I’m not quite myself today. Maybe I’m you.

HE AIN'T AS GREAT AS THEY THINK HE IS

BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

When I begin an American Sign Language class, I try to make sure that everyone not only learns sign language, but perhaps most importantly, also learns about the population who uses it. Deafness is something that almost always shocks hearing people when they delve into such things as Deaf Culture and Deafhood and what they mean.

There are several capacities to our culture that many hearing people tend to shut their eyes to. However, not all are avoiding the subject; many are simply misinformed.

Deaf history is also very important to learn about if you’re interested in learning our language, so that people can see how far we’ve come in the past decade. We still have a heck of a ways to go though. And, inarguably, one of the biggest figures in the past movements of the deaf and hard of hearing was Alexander Graham Bell.

AG (as I will call him) is known by many individuals, organizations, and doctors, as a huge supporter of deaf and hard of hearing people. I mean, hey, he had a deaf wife, a deaf mother, and he invented the telephone as a way to try to help deaf people communicate. Thanks, man. Appreciate it. Didn’t work at all for us and actually caused more oppression, but, hey, you accomplished something. Right?

AG’s known in the Hearing world as a supporter, yet he is known in history to be anything but that. In fact, you see, AG was completely against Sign Language. He was completely against many things related to the deaf and hard of hearing. He was a strict oralist and, oh yeah,….

Ever heard of eugenics? Does World War II ring a bell? Hitler? Nazism? Well, remove one Adolph Hitler and replace him, at another time and place, with AG and you’re pretty close in deciphering his attitude to this “defective race.” Yes, I said “defective.” So did he.

See, AG had this theory that, if the country could keep deaf people separated and they didn’t socialize with each other, things would be easier. Deaf people would eventually disappear. If they could make a mandate that deaf people cannot marry, (and why not throw in some sterilization of deaf people?), they’d have the “problem” covered.

His reasoning? If deaf people didn’t have children and they stayed away from each other, “those kind of people” would eventually die off.  Nice. Kind of gives you a warm, tingly feeling, don’t it?

But, thankfully (times a million), his ideas didn’t stick for the entire COMMUNITY. Sure, there are definitely areas where oralism rules supreme, but there are also lots of places where ASL is accepted and Deaf people are simply a minority with their own language and customs.

As you can see, AG Bell, is one of the most well known advocates against Sign Language and yet ASL prevails. As George Veditz said a long time ago (1913), “As long as we have deaf people on earth, we will have signs.” It’s true. I guess I just wanted to get rid of people’s notions that AG helped the signing community. He may be, in my opinion, one of the most notorious figures in Deaf History.

SMALL TALK -- IS IT REALLY WORTH THE EFFORT?

It happened (again) just a couple of days ago. I’d had my fill of things to deal with and I just wanted to be left alone. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. I had to go to my daughter’s school and help out with the popcorn. I mean, hey, it was “Popcorn Friday,” and they needed me. I only had to be there until all the popcorn sacks were filled and ready to be delivered to the various classes. So, I arrived and I knew where to go. I checked in with the secretary, Karen – she knows me. She waved, I waved, we parted.

Then I get to the popcorn machine. I looked at the list of volunteers that day and it said, “Stacey M” and me, so I decided to wait for Stacey, because I’d never done that before and I had no idea how to even start the popcorn machine…much less actually make the popcorn.

I hadn’t been at the machine more than three minutes before the PTO chairperson approached and told me…something. I ask how to work it and she mumbled with a few things. I explained I’m deaf; she mumbled even more. Not to mention that, while she gabbed, she’s also repositioned things and got things ready (I’m assuming). Then she looked up, smiled, and patted me on the back as she walked away.

What should I have done? I knew even less after she left than I did before she showed up in the first place. I played with a few doohickeys to see if any of them would create power and allow the machine to become THE POPCORN MASTER. Yeah, yeah, it’s supposed to be “MAKER,” but I like “MASTER” better. It makes me feel tall. Don’t ask.

The fact of the matter is I’d been standing there for a half hour with no idea what to do. Then, behold, Stacey M. showed up. She was babbling and smiling and, I’m guess apologizing for being late. She flips the switch and the MASTER comes to life. Hallelujah!

But as we stood there, filling up bags, Stacey starts to make small talk. Oy vey! Small talk is not my forte. I mean, I can’t hear a thing. They only reason I knew she was talking was because he lips were flapping and she kept giggling at something only she thought funny.

That’s one thing in my life I wish I had – the ability to make small talk with hearing people. If I can even get someone to talk/write for me. It happens very seldomly though.  Actually, it never happens. If someone doesn’t know I’m deaf and starts talking and I let them know, they usually walk away (in my opinion, because they felt uncomfortable or embarrassed by our different languages).

So, if you become deaf today, and you have no residual hearing, no lipreading abilities, etc., what do you do? Announce to the world you’re deaf and not to talk with you? OK. What happens if they do that…if they smile and nod and ignore you. Is that better? Or do you feel oppressed because they don’t want to try? It’s a catch 22 and I hate it!

To engage in conversation or not to engage in conversation (or attempt to engage in conversation). That is the question. (Was that really a question? Sounds like a fragmental statement to me). Truth is, with me, it depends on the circumstance. There have been many times where I simply shook my head and pointed to my ear to let others know I’m deaf. That usually sends them running and then there’s no need to put forth that effort. But there are many times where I will be bored or I’ll see someone I vaguely know and I’ll wish we could converse. Like I said, a catch 22. 

What I do is I evaluate the situation. Where am I, with whom am I, why am I there with whomever (that’s a very strange word…whom), how long will I be there, stuff like that.

I think hearing people underestimate the power of small talk in this world. It’s a part of daily life for most people. But what about those who can only make small talk with a few people? Can I not go to the grocery store, stand in line, and make a sarcastic, yet, utterly witty comment? Most days I don’t want to anyway (I’ve never been good in face to face situations), but there are many days when I want to make fun of someone or show the person behind me the new tap dance move I’ve invented. Or perhaps even do the moonwalk down aisle 13 with the woman in the yellow shirt. But I don’t.

Small talk can be very tricky. Very irritating. And very liberating. I hate things like that.

AND.....CUE!

The Whitman’s were due for dinner and, knowing I would be the only deaf person here and that they don’t use sign language, I tried my best to brace myself for what was to come. As Dr. Phil would say, “This wasn’t my first rodeo.” I had my paper and pen, but, because my husband, Kenny, was going to be there, he was planning on interpreting. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?

As the guests arrived, Kenny and I stood at the door to welcome them. What I found myself face-to-face with was an elderly woman with blood-red lipstick that seemed to follow the wrinkles in the skin above her upper lip (making it seem she had a bright red mustache) and a man with a Frito-catcher around his face that would rival even Old St. Nick himself. Wow! If I were ever going to need a pen and paper or an interpreter, tonight would be the night!

We said our hellos, hugged, hung up their coats and got them a drink. I should have gotten me a stiff one, too. While all of that was taking place, Kenny engaged in a nice conversation with them, making sure to sign his part. But, honestly, I was not all that interested, so I busied myself in preparing the dinner table.

After I was done, all four of us sat down at the table to eat. This can be looked at as gross or upsetting on so many levels. First and foremost, there’s the fact that here sat at least two people who don’t understand why talking with their mouth full bothers me more than it seems to bother other people. What planet did they come from? Where in the Solar System does it say that it’s considered polite and OK to spit out their mashed potatoes at the same time they’re spitting out their consonants? Ew! That has always been a pet peeve of mine and it doesn’t necessarily have to do with being deaf and paying more attention to their faces and lips. Besides, what lips?

The bulk of the frustration I was dealing with was our chitchat. As the four of us sat around, Kenny would interpret what they were saying and he would be sure to sign what he was saying. The problem I ran into is the pattern it left:

They speak.

Kenny turns to me and signs what they said.

All people in the room watch me for my reaction to what was said.

All night long, they would talk and, when Kenny went to include me, everyone got a expectant face and wanted to know what I thought. I despise being the center of attention. I mean, make me some wallpaper that kind of blends into the paint and I’d be very happy. But when we have people over who don’t sign, this is what happens.

Sure, I could ask them to write to me instead of having Kenny interpret, but it seems a little odd to say, “You know, I hate it when my husband signs to me. Can you write that down?”

Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems redundant when he could have just as easily told me what was being said. It just bugs the bejeebas out of me when everyone wants to look at me for a reaction. I mean, sometimes I don’t have a reaction. I’m not going to look all excited and responsive with every single sentence. Just let me hang out. Don’t put me on cue. It’s just too much pressure. You know? I feel like it’s almost a, “Let’s see how the Deaf woman reacts,” kind of thing.

Kenny (signing and speaking): How many children do you have?

Guest (speaking only): I have three kids.

Kenny (interprets): Three children.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me (signing and sometimes speaking): Wow! Three kids? That’s great!

But, really, what’s so great about it? I have three kids. I’d gladly give away one or two sometimes. But I don’t think me having three warrants a “great” response.

So, I tried another scenario:

Kenny (signing and speaking): Where do your kids go to school?

Guest (speaking only): They attend Grandville Middle School.

Kenny (interprets): Grandville Middle School.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me: I nod my head with no real expression on my face. (Thinking: OK. Let’s move on.)

I mean, who cares? He’s just being polite. Why must I have a polite and positive reaction to every single thing we talk about? It’s exhausting!

I just want to be another face in the crowd. I want to socialize with people who are involved in my hearing kids’ lives, but I can’t be expected to do cartwheels and the Victory Dance after every tidbit of information.

Yes, I used to do theatre and such, and yes, I know what being on cue means. But No, I don’t like being in the spotlight and on cue all the time.

The question is (besides asking them to write something down), how do I get involved in the conversations with hearing folk (like in a group) who are standing around gabbing? Kenny interprets and that helps break the barrier down, but then everyone wants to see him sign to me and my reaction to that and that’s just annoying. That’s the word. Annoyed.

I’m a friendly person. I enjoy other people’s company, but I find socializing with hearing people who don’t sign to be just too tricky. Hey, people! Talk to me, involve me, but, please, don’t place such a huge expectation on me. I am not on cue.

BAGELS AND BABES: BONDING WITH MY HEARING CHILDREN…KIND OF

“Bagels and Babes” is a special time at my kids’ school, where they invite the mothers to come out and bring all their children for a breakfast of…wait for it….bagels for the babes (babies, kids, short people). I, ever the wanting-to-spend-time-bonding-with-her-kids-type mother, decided that this year, we would indeed attend.

I’ve never been very good at estimating arrival times. I always give myself way too much time to get there and then drive like a bat-out-of-hell, only to arrive 45 minutes early. This morning, I did better. I was only a half an hour early. Hey, it’s a step in the right direction.

So, when we pulled up in our van that desperately needs a new furnace and some shocks, we were all a little beat up and ready to snack. Unfortunately, we were the only ones in the parking lot and the only snack I had in the car was a half-eaten Snickers bar with fuzz stuck to it. This surprised me. Not because it was gross or the only thing in the car to eat. By why in the world would anyone only eat half a Snickers bar? That’s just insane.

I had Mollie, my oldest, run into the school to see if we were allowed in yet. We were. So I bundled up my nerves, grabbed my purse, and headed for the school gym, which would double that morning as the cafeteria.

We were, in fact, the first people there. Well, the first people not setting up, there. The woman behind the breakfast table waved a hearty hello and shouted something to me that seemed pleasant. She could have been saying, “You guys sure are too fat to be arriving so early for food. Can’t you starve a little and give the hungry kids of the world something to chew on for once,” and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

I gave my usual, “Hi! Do you need any help,” only to be answered. Now, why did I ask a question when I knew I wouldn’t know what in the world the answer was? It is a terrible habit I have. Perhaps it’s just me wanting to feel the vibrations of my own vocal cords. I talk quite a lot, actually. I talk to fill up the air, knowing that I sound like some poor, dying animal on the side of the road. But poor, dying animal sounds is better than nothing, right? I think that may be debatable.

Thankfully, she shook her head as she answered. Even though I realized the answer was no, I did happen to glance at my 10-year-old, Natalie, who, by the way, is the second most fluent signer in the house (behind me, of course), and she interpreted that the woman had been there for 20 minutes and was all set up. Hmmm. If only I would have driven a little faster and met my usual 45 minutes-early time pattern, I could have lent a hand. Alas, all I could lend was my mouth and my stomach at this point.

After a couple of minutes of very awkward silence…well, awkward for the woman (everything is silent to me)…I decided to start digging into the donut holes on the far right of the table and a glass of hot chocolate, located in the middle.

I was so involved in decided which hole would be the least caloric with the most taste, that I failed to realize that more people had accumulated in the gym for the festivities. So, when I grabbed the two holes I’d decided on, I moved directly back toward the middle of the table to pick up a glass of hot cocoa. Unfortunately, someone else had already picked up theirs, so, when I moved to the left, not looking at where I was going, I hit the woman on her arm and it sent the hot beverage flying.

“Oh, my gosh! I am SO sorry!! I didn’t even realize you were there,” I spat out as I observed where the glass and its contents were going to land. Thankfully, it wasn’t on another person. What’s a wet wall at 7 AM, anyway? All was OK—Except the fact that the woman, who had politely smiled off the collision, had decided to start a conversation with me. She began by introducing herself. I think. Her name was Felicity or Barbara or Veronica. Maybe it was Diandra. Could have been supercalifragiliciousexpialadocious for all I knew. But, because I had absent-mindedly left my paper and pen in the van, I smiled and introduced myself and shook her hand.

She talked and laughed. I laughed and smiled. She talked some more. I nodded. She jabbered on as she started to eat her bagel, which was smothered in cream cheese. (I know this because she ate and talked at the same time.) I smiled and tried not to gag at the grossness. I quickly looked around the gym for one of my three children. Perhaps they could give me an excuse to get away from this bevy of crumbs and saliva and confusion. Nope. They were all busy with their own friends. So, I did what any other person would do in this situation: I created a new child. A fictitious child. A child who was always in trouble and was making a ruckus waaaaaaay on the other end of the gym.

“Sorry, but I have to go. Bartholomew is always making a fuss. I need to make sure he hasn’t maimed or killed anyone yet. It was nice to meet you.” I went to leave and the woman with her mouth full spat a few crumbs at me as a goodbye and went about making small talk with another poor victim.

After that…er…situation…I decided that maybe I should eat my holes and drink my chocolate and just sit somewhere. I did so. I acted like I was totally engrossed in the origami book my son has asked me to hold.  I’d never found a paper crane so interesting! When I was done with my food and realized that my kids didn’t even know I was there anymore, I went about getting ready to leave. After all, a mother was about to give a presentation on the importance of including your children in your every day activities. Definitely not something I wanted to sit through in silence.

I left. I left knowing that, even though they didn’t give me the time of day, I’m sure my kids appreciated my effort to spend a little extra time with them. I left knowing that I had done my job and shown my children a little extra love. I left knowing that some people just haven’t a clue about the proper eating habits of not talking with your mouth full!!!!! …Ahem…. And I left knowing that I had a half-eaten Snickers bar in my car if I crashed in the snow on the way home.

CAREFUL: DEAF PEOPLE CAN YELL BACK!

This morning, I went to the gas station for a tea, like I do way too often! The cashier at the counter was not one I’d met before. He was obviously very tired. He looked at me, scratched his head, and mumbled… something. I looked at him questioningly and I motioned my finger to my ear while shaking my head—indicating that I'm Deaf.

He didn’t miss a beat. He leaned across the counter, moistened his chicken lips and yelled, "DO YOU HAVE GAS????"

I looked over at him, glanced around at the other staring patrons, and yelled back, "NO! MY MEDICATION IS STARTING TO WORK, THANK YOU!!!" The look on his face was priceless!

This isn't the first time this has happened to me (even with the same question). I’ve always had a witty retort. Sometimes I’ve whispered them out of the corner of my mouth, but usually I’ve just kept them deep inside the eccentric confines of my head. But this morning I was feeling good. Didn’t have any worries about the day. And I decided to finally express myself in the way I felt I should. I finally decided to yell back. And, I’ll tell you something: It felt wonderful!!!

No, shouting at a deaf person will not help rectify his hearing “problem.” But it might get you a reaction you’d better be prepared to receive.

I'M FREE -- AND IT'S TERRIFYING!

This weekend, my family is going away to Illinois. Actually, they left last night and won't be home till Sunday afternoon. At first, this seemed like a wonderful treat! Oh, don't get me wrong, I adore my husband and kids, but I've had the kids 27/7 since school got out and I'm downright exhausted! I need a break!

Like I said, they left last night. When I signed good-bye and waved to the van as they rode away, I admit I did feel a little empty. But I was still pretty excited about being alone to do ...nothing... for two-and-a-half days. I waved good-bye, clapped for the dog to come in, and shut the door behind me. And that's when it hit me....FEAR.

I hadn't been alone in that house overnight for years. In fact, I can't remember the last time I was alone in the house for the night. So when it started getting late, I started getting more and more anxious.

I don't think many people realize that it can be pretty darn scary when you can't hear a thing. Turning off all the lights (well, most, anyway), locking the doors, going to bed alone...with no way of knowing if someone was breaking in, knocking on my door to warn me of something, calling me (I only have a small light attached directly to my VP, which is downstairs in the dining room, and I can't afford more), or if there was a storm and a tornado hit.

I am poor and cannot afford signals and such. I have to work with what I have...a text pager and email. I do have a landline phone downstairs for the other members of my family or for emergency calls to 911. I can also call 911 through my VP, but that, too, is downstairs, and I hardly ever use it. I'm talking an inch of dust!

So, if someone were to break into my home, there's no way I would even know...until they killed me. Then I could look down from heaven and smite them. But I have no way of contacting 911 from where I sleep. Also, as amazing at it sounds, the last time a HUGE storm hit (I'm talking HUGE), I didn't even know it had rained till I woke up the next morning, looked outside, and saw trees laying in the street. So, if a tornado warning blares, I wouldn't know it.

So, suffice it to say, it's scary for me to be alone in my home. The only relieving fact is that I do get downtime and things might not go wrong. But is it enough to get me through the weekend? Heck, yeah! I'm alone! I'm alone! I'm alone! No kids! No kids! No kids!

Yea!!!!