Frustration with Work

This morning I had my usual quarterly educational work meeting, which I dreaded attending mainly because I normally miss more than half what's being discussed. If it weren't for the fact I get paid to go, and my attendance looks good on my work record, I probably would have skipped it altogether. I certainly don't get much out of it. Today I nearly fell asleep even after drinking a triple-shot non-fat Venti white-chocolate peppermint mocha on the way.

I have mentioned to my manager that I need to be accommodated for these meetings. His response, "You don't get everything you ask." To my knowledge he never followed up. I was then informed my attendance at the meetings was only "optional" because they're considered educational. The person who held my position previously lived two hours and a ferry ride away, so she rarely went to these meetings. However, **everyone** else in my position does go. There are over 100 of us. The meetings gives me a chance to network with others around the county we don't get a chance to see very often.

My usual strategy is to sit up close so I can read lips and hopefully hear as much as possible. I also try to remind all the speakers that I'm deaf/HH ahead of time, where I'll be sitting and that I need to see their faces. STILL-- some of them refuse to wear a microphone, some walk around while talking, some speak in the back of the room instead of the front, some talk behind computers. . . . There never seems to be a perfect place for me to sit to be able to read their lips.

There is always a question and answer period, and unfortunately they NEVER repeat the questions. So I must guess the questions by how they're answered. It's super challenging when the answer is simply "YES-that's right!" (Example: Someone mumbles a five-minute long situational computer problem, then tells how she solved it, and finally asks if this or that was the problem. "Yes!--that's right! Next question?") What a fun game. (Yes- I'm joking!) The question/answer period can last up to a half-hour or more.

Today we split into work groups to brainstorm for awhile--in a noisy room. Think about at least 100 people broken up into over ten groups. They had all drank several cups of coffee by this time. (It was midmorning in Seattle--Starbuck's land.) And we had all been sitting way too long. Chatting in groups in stuffy, enclosed, rooms filled to the brink with hyper over-caffeinated people is not my forte.

Sometimes during our break-- when we're trying to network with each other --one of the techs loves to play a piano. He's pretty good from what I can tell. Keep in mind I used to play, but my ears are baaaaad. I find it annoying, the extra racket, the keys that sound flat or sharp that shouldn't, the shrillness of it, the way it ricochets through my head, the sound endlessly bouncing off all the walls and the floor when I'm wearing hearing aids-- I HATE it when I'm trying to lip read.

We are given an outline and some notes to follow, plus a brief overview afterwards, so it's not as if I miss a LOT without the extra accommodations. With the notes and the visual walk throughs during the meetings, I can put it all together afterwards. It's hard, but I make due. Sometimes a week later after the meeting notes are emailed to me (yes it does take that long sometimes), I'll remember a visual software demonstration, and finally understand what was being discussed during the meeting. I try to keep current on my own by fiddling with the software all the time. In my job, hands on learning is usually best anyway.

I have been wondering how it would work even if I had CART. When we broke into groups today, would the transcriber then have had to pick up and transport all her equipment with me? Because these are often software demonstrations, there is already tons of equipment in a tight place. An interpreter would obviously be so much easier, but I'm not fluent enough in ASL yet to utilize one. In any case, this is all a fantasy because it's doubtful my employer will pay for either since these meetings are considered "optional." If I push too hard I may find my work is suddenly not up to par. This has happened to more than one co-worker in the past.

I will just say I feel frustrated and anxious after these meetings, but I did make some extra money today, and I got to see some people I work with who I don't get to see often. So it wasn't a total waste. My anxiety level has been very high lately. I don't have another meeting like this until February now. Maybe I can be sick next time. . .

Lost in a Dark Woods

Sometimes when you are late-deafened, you feel you are lost in a dark, mysterious woods with two people. One is called Hearing, the other Deaf. You have a lantern, but can't light it because you forgot to bring matches. They both possess matches. However, instead of simply lighting your lantern they argue and argue about the best route for you to take home. Each of them pull you in opposite directions. Meanwhile you become cold and frightened and more and more lost.

Then, just by chance another late-deaf person comes along who has a match but no lantern. Off you go working together, finding your way by trial and error. The route is lonely and scary. Along the way you encounter a few other late-deaf and oral deaf people struggling to make sense of the trail. You link together lighting each other's way and sharing information about what you've learned of each other's paths. If one of you gets lost or makes mistakes, no one criticizes. No one tells you you're not acting like a Deaf person. No one treats you like you're "impaired." No one sniffs that you've insulted their culture. No one laughs at you when you misunderstand. You all acknowledge that hearing is hard and learning to be Deaf is hard. Eventually you begin to feel comfortable and accepted being neither hearing or Deaf, but rather just a deaf person who speaks and maybe uses a little ASL and hearing aids or a CI, maybe some ALD's sometimes, maybe not, maybe CART, maybe an interpreter, whatever works. . .

Later on when you bump into Deaf and Hearing again, Deaf asks, "Why didn't you follow ME? I had a match, and I would have lit your lantern! You could have learned ASL!!" Hearing asks the same question, reminding you Cochlear Implant was just around the next bend.

You realize you will never be able to follow Deaf or Hearing. They don't understand.

It Takes All Kinds

Yesterday I came across this passage from the Bible in another blog. http://dolcebellezza.blogspot.com/2007/11/fearfully-and-wonderfully-made.html With all the discussion lately about Deaf/deaf and hard-of-hearing, this took my breath away for a few seconds and made me stop to think.

"The human body has many parts...If the foot says, "I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand," that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, "I am not part of the body because I am only an ear and not an eye," would that make it any less a part of the body? Suppose the whole body were an eye-then how would you hear? Or if your whole body were just one big ear, how could you smell anything? But God made our bodies with many parts, and he has put each part just where he wants it...In fact, some of the parts that seem weakest and least important are really the most necessary." 1 Corinthians 12: 12-22 NLT

Each of us is important. We all have a place in this community of deaf people whether we're oral or not, whether we're late-deaf or born deaf, or implanted, or whether we cue. We all have something to share with the other.

The funny thing is I didn't get this off a Deaf blog. I got it off one of my favorite bookish blogs, and it was about how she felt she didn't fit in with her family-- not because she couldn't hear, but because she wears red lipstick. (smile) It was actually more than that, but Deaf people aren't the only ones who feel out of step with their families, or out of step with the rest of the world sometimes.

Even as a child when I could hear, I was the only introvert in a family of extroverts. Sometimes I don't know how much of me is "deaf me" and how much of me is just me.

(The above titled, "High-heeled Shoe" was painted by deaf artist Roy Tanner.)

What do YOU want?

Yesterday while processing a book, it fell open to a page that said

FOCUS ON WHAT YOU WANT, NOT WHAT YOU DON'T WANT.

Sometimes when things like this happen I wonder if someone is trying to give me a message. I believe in angels and spirit guides and I'm prone to picking up on psychic messages sometimes. So I stopped and paid attention. The overly large word fonts stood right out on a bright red page. My daughter would say this was all a total coincidence because I handle hundreds of books every day, but nevermind--- that's not the point of this blog. The words popped out at me, and this seemed to mean something important at that moment.

I guess the reason it hit me was this;

I realized I've been thinking about exactly the wrong things lately. I've been worrying too much-- about a lot of stuff. Without even realizing I was worrying. Because I was not thinking about this negative stuff consciously, until that moment it didn't hit me how much I had been stewing.

I'll admit I've become cynical about wants. Life aint fair. Wants?! HA! Get real. Shit happens. There are ways of dealing with the hard knocks. But I'm not going to go into all that just now. Instead I'll copy the inspirational path to everlasting "peace" I tried to follow for awhile.

Buddist philosophy--

All human life is "dhukka" (impermanent
unsatisfactoriness).
All suffering is caused
by human desire,particularly the desire that impermanent things be
permanent.
Human suffering can be ended by ending human desire.
Desire
can be ended by following the "Eightfold Noble Path": right understanding, right
thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right
mindfulness, and right concentration.

But you know what? It didn't work. Why? Because wanting is the American way, and not wanting is the same as wanting when it comes right down to it. Say for example I don't want to do poorly on my ASL test on Monday. That's the same as wanting to do well. Right? I have been SO STUPID!

Then I remembered this little nugget of wisdom -- Buddhists base ethical decisions on the consequences of their actions, how they would feel if the action was done to them, and whether the action was helpful to their well-being or the well-being of another. (It's like the Golden Rule. "Do unto others. . .") This is what appeals to me about Buddhism --Your actions should be determined by whether they serve the well-being of self and others, rather than if they fit in with someone's ancient idea of right and wrong 2000 years ago. Not that I have a problem with Jesus, per se. But the Golden Rule is timeless, while many hateful passages of the Bible that some people misinterpret, twist around and spout off serve no useful purpose.

Anyway--Thinking about stuff I don't want to happen won't get me closer to any of the things I DO want to happen.

Of course it is OK to want something as long as it promotes well-being of self and/or others.

Sometimes we turn down what's in front of us for the taking. Ever done that? Sometimes you don't think you deserve something, other times you think you're too good. Maybe you don't. I do. I admit.

So I've been thinking about this a lot the past couple days, and then it hit me that these same thoughts could be applied to the ASL debates people have been having.

You see-- one of my wants is to be able to communicate better without having to worry about hearing. I want that so BAD. I want that more than I want to go through surgery. (I guess not everyone knows-- I **might** be able to have a surgery for an experimental cochlear hybrid.) But I'm not sure I want it. This is why I'm taking ASL. I don't know many people who use ASL right now. I'm meeting some. I worry other Deaf people will not like me because I am slow and a beginner. All I want is to be able to communicate freely and easily. That's all. Well OK--that's not really, really all, but that's all I'm admitting to right now. ASL promotes the well-being of self and others. An experimental surgery? . . .Eh?

In the past several weeks of reading and posting in Deafread, a few people have said they don't like to "slow down" to talk to "hearing" people who are learning ASL. Some of them have said they don't like going to events where non-deaf ASL learners will be present. Some have complained that speakers of other sign languages feel unwelcome-- specifically a man whose partner spoke BSL. Now lately, I've been reading about ISL. Recently someone wrote in a blog her two-year-old deaf-blind son was shunned after a couple Deaf people noticed he was wearing a CI. Additionally, some of my late-deafened friends who were learning ASL have shared personal experiences of being shunned by Deaf people as well. By the way, we can't help it if English was our first language and that our ASL is crappy.

I believe the majority of you are NICE folks who wouldn't dream of shunning a two-year-old deaf-blind boy. Most of you have been so very nice to me.

But I just have to ask ---What do YOU want?

The painting is called "Storms Aftermath" by Charles Bourke Wildbank. He has been profoundly deaf since birth. I really relate to the storm surrounding his cochlea.

Survey on television broadcast transition to digital from analog

I got this email today. It's a survey for HLAA regarding the transition from analog to digital television. It you're interested in taking part, click the link for the survey, fill it out and send it in. You don't have to be a member of HLAA.

Thanks,

Kim

The Hearing Loss Association of America has been invited to participate in a forum with manufacturers and broadcasters of televisions to discuss issues facing us all in the transition to digital from analog television. In order to best prepare for this opportunity we are asking for your feedback on your experiences and preferences with regards to captioning and digital television. Please complete the survey no later than Friday November 16, 2007 by 12 noon. If you have any additional questions please contact Christopher T. Sutton via email at csutton@hearingloss.org Thank you for taking time to respond to this survey!
Click here to take The Survey
About Hearing Loss Association of America

The Hearing Loss Association of America (HLAA), founded in 1979 by Rocky Stone under the name of Self Help for Hard of Hearing People, opens the world of communication to people with hearing loss through information, education, advocacy and support. HLAA publishes the bimonthly Hearing Loss Magazine, holds annual conventions, Walk4Hearing, and more. Information can be found at www.hearingloss.org. The national headquarters is located at 7910 Woodmont Avenue, Suite 1200, Bethesda, MD 20184. HLAA has chapters and state organizations across the country.
Hearing Loss Association of America
Christopher T. Sutton
csutton@hearingloss.org

Some deaf/Deaf Poetry

I didn't post about deaf heroes yesterday. There are plenty, but I have poetry on my mind. I've blogged about deaf artists, athletes, politicians, and scientists. No Authors. Though on the side of my blog I've listed some books written by and about deaf people. "Talk, Talk" was a great thriller, by the way! I haven't gotten to most of the others yet because I've been side-tracked with other stuff. This week I felt like blogging about poetry, just cause I like it. I found the first three on Jamie Berke's page.


I loved this one by Sheri Birnbaum Dennis--

"The Loud Lips of Life"

Sitting here…

watching my trees dance to the muted tune of a breeze
two birds lovingly wing their way through the sun-glistening evergreen
as a hummingbird stands on the wind for a Santa-red drink from its feeder.
squirrels play tag on the sculptured-brown forest carpet
while hundreds of bugs dance in the conical warm sun.
here I sit surrounded by my four cats
who occasionally open their mouths as if to say they're enjoying the view.


Life is signing to me for
there is no gentle whooosh of air through the trees,
or flipflipflipflip of the birds as they move through the air,
or the HUMMMM of the humming bird's singing wings,
or BUZZZZ of a congregation of bugs.

Where is that resounding crr-uunnch of dry-crisp wintery leaves being trampled on by squirrels?


I'm learning to read the Lips of Life.


I really feel like I'm learning to read the lips of life the more deaf I become. I think I'm going to have this next one FRAMED. I LOVE it!!


"What Did You Say By Reba Orton"

Huh? Hmm? Eh? What?
Give that another shot.
What was that?
I missed that.
Repeat that.
I didn’t get that.
I beg your pardon, say that again.
I’m sorry, run that by me again.
Speak louder, speak slower.
Excuse me? Pardon me?
I couldn’t hear you,I can’t hear you.
I didn’t hear you, I don’t understand you.

This one's beautiful.

"The Sound of Sunlight by Anna M. Stott"


Though the silence never ends

I can hearI can hear:

A dove in flight


The sound of sunlight


Trees dancing without wind


Stars twinkling in the night


The flowers sweet songs


The moon's soft spirte


My loves delight.


Though the silence never ends


I can hearI can hear:


All the worlds words
All the lies
All the laughter
And all the the cries
All the songs
And every sigh...
I can hear.

Sometimes what you see is too beautiful for sound. Next--there's this poingnant poem.

Brother Harold

"Brother Harold was a deaf man,"

Said the preacher with a tear,

"But today he's up in heaven,
And today he can hear.
"Brother Harold could not speak,

So he talked with his hands,

But today he speaks with God,
And at last, God understands.
"Brother Harold was a sinner,

Like the rest of us," he screamed.

But no longer is he silent,
For his sins have been redeemed."
And the people in the chapel

Who prayed for his soul

Rejoiced at the conviction
That Harold was now whole.
But as I sat among the mourners

And recalled the Dad I knew

I asked myself the question:
"Is this message really true?
"Are deaf folks simply hearing folks

Whose ears do not perform?

Are women just like men
Except for function and for form?
"Are black folks just like white folks

But for the color of their skin?

Are all of us the same
If we but look deep within?
"Or is each of us unique

In what we are and what we give?

Aren't our differences our strengths?"
Let me share what I believe.
I believe if there's a heaven

It's a place not so very far

Where our differences are valued
And we're accepted as we are.
And I believe if there's a God.

He or She understands,

For He listens with his heart,
And he talks with his hands.

- Robert Ingram


Yeah-- God talks to me without words even now.

And finally-- I LOVED this-- which maybe some of you have already seen. But this is what I LOVE about ASL. You can't do this kind of poetry with words. It's like dancing with hands. I'm not even sure how to decribe this, except to say -- AWESOME.

Disappointing Deaf Chat

I went to a Deaf Chat last night for the community college class where I'm taking ASL. My teacher was there and several others from my college, plus students from a different college. But NO Deaf people that I could see. In fact, I believe my teacher and I were probably the only two deaf/HH people there. I'm not totally sure about this, because I didn't know all the students personally. Some students in my ASL class are HH but the HH/deaf students I knew weren't there last night.

I have to say I was a bit disappointed. I've been to other Deaf Chats with deaf friends. This time I felt like an oddity being one of two deaf/HH people attending. The first student I sat next to knew **nothing**. He was from the other school. Believe me, I'm not fluent. This guy-- I'm not sure if he knew ANY actual words. He didn't even understand "baby." Really!! I tried to tell him something about my son. He didn't understand the word 'son.' So I broke it down. 'Boy' + 'baby.' He didn't understand either word. I've never met anyone who didn't get it when you signed baby. He didn't understand the difference between 'want' and 'have.' He didn't know 'mother' or 'father' or 'teacher.' He should have known these words even if he was taking beginning ASL 101, because it's already the middle of the quarter. He should have learned those words the first week. We ended up fingerspelling everything.

OK-- I was fine with someone who was a beginner. We all need to start somewhere and it was brave of him to show up. Plus I suck at fingerspelling, so I needed the practice. But he kept checking his phone. He got up and walked away several times without apologizing or saying anything. The thing is I never heard his phone ring and only knew he was talking on the phone because he pulled it out and walked away. Now I understand about Teresa's blog a few weeks ago when she asked how Deaf felt about others using their phones at Deaf events. It wasn't that I needed him to interpret his conversation for me. Heavens! He wouldn't have been able to anyway. However, even among the hearing, it's simple courtesy to say "excuse me." Better yet, unless it's really important to receive calls, you should turn your phone off while talking to others, or explain WHY you need to take that call.

Did he want to be there at the Deaf Chat?? I think not. I guess it was part of his class "assignment" to take notes about what I said because I saw him write down some things about me. YIKES!! He never even asked if that was OK! He left early. After forty minutes of patiently showing him signs and fingerspelling with him, he simply got up and left. Good riddance too!! The look of relief on his face when his ride showed up was priceless. I know he was thinking 'Thank GOD, the torture of talking to this deaf woman is over!" He didn't even say good-bye or thanks or nod in my direction. How RUDE!! I felt like a specimen. The others from his school didn't try to communicate in ASL at all. They only stared at me and the others in my school signing away. If I had had a choice I would have moved on to talk to someone else, but I had arrived late and all the other chairs were taken, so I was stuck in this area surrounded by people from the other school. Soon after my guy left, the rest of them left too, so only those from my school were left.

Then we all closed in and I had a much better time chatting with the students from my own school. They all signed much better, and seemed to feel more comfortable about my deafness. In fact it didn't matter at all. After that we just chatted about funny stuff and we had some good **laffs.** We all noticed how the students from the other school seemed to be way behind. I know nothing about that teacher at the other school.

Sometimes I wonder why people take ASL if they feel so uncomfortable around deaf/HH people.

On the bright side-- a nice surprise and more praise for Starbucks. This Deaf Chat was held at a Starbucks. I had a horrible time finding it. For those of you who don't know--- I live in the Seattle area and there are probably two Starbucks on every block, plus a couple other drive thru latte stands and coffee shops in-between. We drink a lotta coffee here-- OK??? Our winters are D-A-R-K. Coffee helps to relieve Seasonal Affective Disorder. Look that one up. We get weird in the winter without our coffee. I'm getting off track. . . So I was driving around and pulled into the wrong Starbucks one block away from the one I was supposed to be at. Wouldn't you know the kid at the counter knew a little ASL? A high school kid. I've run into this before at Starbucks. They look for workers who know ASL. Starbucks is SO Deaf friendly. So this kid knew about the Deaf Chat at the other Starbucks and told me how to get there and even signed a little while he was speaking as best he could. Sweet!

Since I have to go to this Deaf chat, I plan to take a deaf friend next time if I can convince someone to go with me. (sigh) Or maybe I'll talk to my teacher and see if it's OK to go somewhere else and sign with other people who are more advanced than me, so I can learn more, cuz I was really super disappointed about last night.

How Evelyn Glennie Gave My Life Back

Normally on Sunday I blog about a talented Deaf person. Today I’ve been thinking about someone who has been an inspiration to me. But first, I guess I should back up and tell you something about myself.

When I was a little girl I played the piano. I played for years and years, for hours a day. There was a time I imagined becoming a concert pianist. Even after I started losing my hearing, I continued to play the piano. I could not imagine life without music.

Early on I had a natural ear for music. I could tell three notes just by hearing alone without looking-- C, F, and G. From there I could figure other notes, and I was able to sound out songs I heard by the time I was five. If you have been hearing, you know most people cannot do this, so I was born with a special musical gift even among hearing people.

As I became deafer, I began to fear the loss of music. First, I could not hear music boxes. On our first Christmas together my husband began a tradition of giving me a music box, but by our fifth year I admitted to him I couldn’t hear them. In fact, I had never been able to hear them. Then it was the radio. Songs began to sound different. “Oldies” that I had once known as a kid didn‘t sound right. Flute solos, soprano harmony and guitar parts were missing. Finally, as the years passed and my hearing continued to decline, my own piano playing became affected.



Notes above middle - C began to sound flat. I stopped playing. I can still listen to others play the piano. It’s just that when I play, I get distracted by flat sounding notes when I know I have struck the right key. It drives me nuts.



The thing is-- I was born to make music. And dance. I still dream about music, pianos, dancing at night. . .and so. . . When I stopped playing the piano it left a big hole in my life that needed to be filled. For several years I felt depressed because there was this big missing hole. Sure-- I had other hobbies. I skiied, but only in the winter. I like photography and I read a lot. I still missed making music. One thing about my hearing-- my low tones have stayed fairly constant and I have continued to enjoy rhythm and base. So one time, when Stomp came to town I went to see them. They energized me!! I could not get them out of my mind!


Then someone told me about Evelyn Glennie, the Scottish percussionist who plays barefoot. She’s amazing!! I have never seen her live. I would love to someday. I have decided not to write much about her myself, except that she was born in Scotland in 1965 and was deafened by age 12. Her father was a musician, so she was given musical training as well. I will let her explain her own deafness and music. This is what she says about it on her webpage. You can also read more here. Evelyn Glennie's Hearing Essay
“Deafness is poorly understood in general. For instance, there is a common misconception that deaf people live in a world of silence. To understand the nature of deafness, first one has to understand the nature of hearing.
Hearing is basically a specialized form of touch. Sound is simply vibrating air which the ear picks up and converts to electrical signals, which are then interpreted by the brain. The sense of hearing is not the only sense that can do this, touch can do this too. If you are standing by the road and a large truck goes by, do you hear or feel the vibration? The answer is both. With very low frequency vibration the ear starts becoming inefficient and the rest of the body's sense of touch starts to take over. For some reason we tend to make a distinction between hearing a sound and feeling a vibration, in reality they are the same thing. It is interesting to note that in the Italian language this distinction does not exist. The verb 'sentire' means to hear and the same verb in the reflexive form 'sentirsi' means to feel. Deafness does not mean that you can't hear, only that there is something wrong with the ears. Even someone who is totally deaf can still hear/feel sounds.
If we can all feel low frequency vibrations why can't we feel higher vibrations? It is my belief that we can, it's just that as the frequency gets higher and our ears become more efficient they drown out the more subtle sense of 'feeling' the vibrations. I spent a lot of time in my youth (with the help of my school Percussion teacher Ron Forbes) refining my ability to detect vibrations. I would stand with my hands against the classroom wall while Ron played notes on the timpani (timpani produce a lot of vibrations). Eventually I managed to distinguish the rough pitch of notes by associating where on my body I felt the sound with the sense of perfect pitch I had before losing my hearing. The low sounds I feel mainly in my legs and feet and high sounds might be particular places on my face, neck and chest.
It is worth pointing out at this stage that I am not totally deaf, I am profoundly deaf. Profound deafness covers a wide range of symptoms, although it is commonly taken to mean that the quality of the sound heard is not sufficient to be able to understand the spoken word from sound alone. With no other sound interfering, I can usually hear someone speaking although I cannot understand them without the additional input of lip-reading. In my case the amount of volume is reduced compared with normal hearing but more importantly the quality of the sound is very poor. For instance when a phone rings I hear a kind of crackle. However, it is a distinctive type of crackle that I associate with a phone so I know when the phone rings. This is basically the same as how normally hearing people detect a phone, the phone has a distinctive type of ring which we associate with a phone. I can in fact communicate over the phone. I do most of the talking whilst the other person can say a few words by striking the transmitter with a pen, I hear this as clicks. I have a code that depends on the number of strikes or the rhythm that I can use to communicate a handful of words.
So far we have the hearing of sounds and the feeling of vibrations. There is one other element to the equation, sight. We can also see items move and vibrate. If I see a drum head or cymbal vibrate or even see the leaves of a tree moving in the wind then subconsciously my brain creates a corresponding sound. A common and ill informed question from interviewers is 'How can you be a musician when you can't hear what you are doing?' The answer is of course that I couldn't be a musician if I were not able to hear. Another often asked question is 'How do you hear what you are playing?' The logical answer to this is; how does anyone hear?. An electrical signal is generated in the ear and various bits of other information from our other senses all get sent to the brain which then processes the data to create a sound picture. The various processes involved in hearing a sound are very complex but we all do it subconsciously so we group all these processes together and call it simply listening. The same is true for me. Some of the processes or original information may be different but to hear sound all I do is to listen. I have no more idea of how I hear than you do.
You will notice that more and more the answers are heading towards areas of philosophy. Who can say that when two normally hearing people hear a sound they hear the same sound? I would suggest that everyone's hearing is different. All we can say is that the sound picture built up by their brain is the same, so that outwardly there is no difference. For me, as for all of us, I am better at certain things with my hearing than others. I need to lip-read to understand speech but my awareness of the acoustics in a concert venue is excellent. For instance, I will sometimes describe an acoustic in terms of how thick the air feels.
To summarize, my hearing is something that bothers other people far more than it bothers me. There are a couple of inconveniences but in general it doesn't affect my life much. For me, my deafness is no more important than the fact I am female with brown eyes. Sure, I sometimes have to find solutions to problems related to my hearing and music but so do all musicians. Most of us know very little about hearing, even though we do it all the time. Likewise, I don't know very much about deafness, what's more I'm not particularly interested. I remember one occasion when uncharacteristically I became upset with a reporter for constantly asking questions only about my deafness. I said: 'If you want to know about deafness, you should interview an audiologist. My speciality is music".


And so, it was about a year and a half ago, someone asked if I wanted to join a "drum circle." I craved a musical outlet, but I had never tapped a drum in my life. Would this be weird. I wondered? My children had been accusing me of acting weird ever since they became teenagers. I thought and thought, then I remembered Evelyn Glennie!!! Not only is she a middle-aged woman who plays drums, but she's also Deaf! Because I work in a library I checked out a book on djembes, which are the drums used in drum circles. Then I started researching on-line. Next I went to a music store to find out about drum circles in my area. I guess it was meant to be, because the store was having a drum sale and I found a beautiful little djembe for an extremely good price. Now I am taking djembe lessons.




Also because djembes are used as accompaniment for belly-dancing, I sort of got hooked up with that as well. So now you know why Evelyn Glennie is special to me.

This is my djembe sitting next to my empty piano bench. Isn't it cute?? It was made in Indonesia, and is very small and light. Perfect for me because I do not have big hands and could not carry a heavy drum. I also have bongos and just bought some marachas in Mexico. Last night my daughter came home and we jammed a little. FUN!

The drum also provides good exercise. I have learned drum circles are being used for meditational/spiritual healing. Beating on a drum requires much concentration. I've been in love since I started playing it.

A Reflection

I’ve already blogged about this in Myspace, but I felt like blogging about it here too. Sorry if you’ve already read it.

Something happened in Mexico that profoundly moved me. One afternoon after lunch, my husband and I were walking up the beach when we saw a man and woman dragging a lifeless teenaged boy from the water in the distance. At first I thought he might be dead. He was so young-- I estimated somewhere between fifteen to nineteen years. My heart went to my throat. This was the first time I had ever seen a lifeless body pulled from water. Because he was a child, it was a pretty intense and emotional moment for me.

Since I know first aid and CPR, I ran ahead to see if they needed assistance. My husband ran off to find a life guard. There was only one to cover all three beaches. As I got closer I could see the boy’s lips were still pink, but I asked if he was breathing anyway-- maybe just because I needed to say something and I needed to be sure. The other two brought him up on the sand and confirmed they had seen him inhale and felt an exhale. They worked quickly as they checked for signs of life, and seemed to know what they were doing. Then they rolled him onto his side so he could cough up the sea water that came next.

Next they told me what happened. The boy had appeared intoxicated. They watched him stumble into the water, then roll around in the waves awhile until he passed out. Just as they finished their story, he sputtered, coughed, spit out some more seawater, and came to. Then he stood up and ran into the waves again.

By this time a crowd had gathered, and the first man went after him along with another man from the crowd. The men dragged the boy back to the beach kicking and screaming in Spanish. It wasn’t easy bringing him to shore the second time. The boy stumbled and fell into a heap onto the beach, then kicked at people in the crowd who started to gather around him. He got up onto his knees, and again darted out. Two guys grabbed him a third time, and threw up back onto the beach, yelling at him to STAY! But of course he couldn’t understand because he spoke Spanish. Most of us in the crowd spoke English, though a few Mexicans had also joined us-- beach vendors of wood carvings or blankets, and a guy who operated a paragliding outfit.

The crowd closed in. Once more the boy tried to run at a couple of people, but each time was met by a big man who pushed him back. Eventually he realized he wouldn’t break through the crowd, so he threw himself down in a brown, boney, wet heap-- sniffling and whimpering in Spanish, a look of hopelessness on his face.

At that moment I scanned the crowd. Here were people from all walks of life--Americans and Mexicans, old and young, male and female, Straight and Gay (we were next to the Gay beach), Black and White, deaf (me) and hearing, and probably all different religious affiliations as well--all of us working together to prevent one young man from killing himself that afternoon. We stood there silently, a human cage surrounding him, keeping him safe from himself.

The capacity to care for strangers is what sets us apart from other animals. For those few moments I felt so connected. I have had days I wanted to die. I have grieved the loss of loved ones. I knew the others stood there with me for the very same reasons. We‘ve all had days we wanted to die. We all knew people we couldn‘t bear to lose. In these moments, the boy was our brother, our son, our friend, our lover, he was someone important, though none of us knew him.

Then in a flash the lifeguard came with his cell phone, called the authorities, and started asking questions. Those who knew Spanish began talking. The couple who dragged the boy from the water told their story, and the crowd began to disperse. It was over. My husband and I went on our way. I’ve been thinking about that boy ever since, and all those people who cared enough to stop him from killing himself. I hope he’s OK now.