A Message to Deaf Vloggers

"If all vlogs created by hearing people have subtitles, then I will add them to my vlogs.I guess it is all depends on who you want to target with your vlogs. For me, Deaf community and ASL users. I guess it's matter of preference here." Unnamed Deaf V/blog Commenter


Five Things I Wish You Knew--

1) It bothers me that hearing people don’t caption their vlogs too.

2) I wish I knew ASL better, so I wouldn’t need to ask you to caption your vlogs.

3) You sign too fast for me, and I want to know you.

4) While I've been losing my hearing a long time, I haven't been at this level of silence very long. I'm still adjusting.

5) I want to learn from you.

Can the "Culture" Argument Be Applied Equally?

Today I came across a dvd I'm sure many of you have seen. Maybe some of you are even in it for all I know. . . haha! It's called The Sound and Fury. I watched it several years ago with mixed feelings. Seeing it again reminded me of a blog I read recently -- Cochlear Implant On-line. Rachel, a young woman who was implanted at age two said one reason her parents decided to go through with the cochlear implant, rather than teaching Rachel ASL was because her parents were not deaf and didn't know ASL themselves. If they had wanted to teach Rachel ASL, they would have had to learn it themselves first, and the ASL would have been a second language to them. She explained how ASL was not their culture. She then used an analogy of American parents who adopt a Chinese baby. Adoptive American parents of foreign children usually teach their babies English because they live in America, she said.

Rachel's mother Melissa then commented in Rachel's blog there were additional reasons. They HAD in fact explored the pros and cons thoroughly, then decided a cochlear implant would offer their daughter the most opportunities in life. You can read the entire blog here. I'm not judging. I might have done the very same thing myself 20 years ago if faced with the same options. I don't know. I'm not sure what I would do today. It's no longer my decision to make, since I'm past the age to have children.

I thought Rachel had a valid point. Parents normally raise their children in the culture they live, not the culture the child came from. In the case of Deaf children, the vast majority are born into hearing families.

However I saw some holes in her analogy. For example, adopted Korean children often go to Korean school or meet with other Koreans to learn about their culture and country. Also adopted children from other countries are hearing and can learn any language, where as Deaf children are Deaf whether they have a cochlear implant or not. They're still Deaf in many situations-- at night, while swimming, water-skiing, snorkeling, taking a shower, when the batteries die or the implant malfunctions. Even though a piece of technology helps them hear for awhile, they are still d/Deaf. No matter what country you live in, it doesn't change the fact you can't hear in those situations.

I had completely forgotten about Sound and Fury until I saw it in the check-in bin today, while working. For those few of you who don't know what it's about I've copied amazon.com's brief synopsis here--

Amazon.com
You might expect that the cochlear implant, a device that can give deaf people the gift of hearing, would be embraced by the deaf community. Josh Aronson's Sound and Fury, a compelling and often devastating documentary, tells a different story. Two brothers, one deaf and one hearing, grapple with a decision concerning their deaf children, and the debate that rages through the extended family turns less on technology and medical concerns than social politics and culture. The deaf parents of a school-age girl fear what the implant would do to her unique identity, while the hearing parents of a toddler see no question at all. Aronson gives all sides their say, but ultimately the increasingly angry arguments reveal prejudices and fears from both sides and split the once-harmonious family, much like they have split hearing and deaf communities across the country. --Sean Axmaker

The first time I saw it several years ago, I thought about it all night. When you're hearing, the argument that "Deaf isn't MY culture seems perfectly sane." Of course. It's hard to learn a second language. How can you teach a child ASL if you yourself don't use ASL?

But when the tables are turned and there are two Deaf parents with a Deaf child who say, "Hearing isn't MY culture, why should I implant MY child?" they have the same argument, don't they?

Worse, because success with an implant depends on AVT, it seems like a quite a hurdle for Deaf parents to cross with their child's oral progress. If a hearing parent with working hands can't learn ASL, I wonder how a Deaf parent with non-working ears could be expected to help a Deaf child learn to speak??

And still-- many Hearing people I've discussed this movie with don't quite understand. They think you can just implant a kid and then they're hearing. Praise the Lord! It was clear in the movie the grandparents of this family didn't understand. They put so much pressure on their Deaf son and his wife to implant their granddaughter.

All I can say is it's sad the way Deafness sometimes tears families apart so much. I see the definitions/labels tearing a community apart in here. I don't think there are any right or wrong answers to the cochlear implant issue. We all have choices to make and God knows we each have to live with those choices -- right or wrong. Hindsight is sometimes best. Let's try to be more gentle with each other as we move along into our own unknowns.

ASL Practice With My Husband

My husband and I took a couple beginning ASL sessions together two years ago, then he forgot nearly everything. He’s busy. We didn’t practice enough. I have deaf/HH friends who know a little sign, so I practiced with them and advanced more quickly, then he decided to drop out and I took more classes. To be fair, he isn’t a stupid man. He was fluent in German when we met, and he has taught himself French and Spanish since then. Normally he picks up languages quickly.

Now I’m taking ASL at the local community college, and finding I need to practice more often. So last weekend I asked him to help with my ASL vocabulary. Also, I thought maybe if he helped me practice he might pick up a few words. Sound like a good plan?

Breakfast seemed like the right time. I asked if he remembered the sign for bacon. We learned that before. He didn’t remember. I showed him.

“Really?” he asked in surprise, “Why are the fingers sizzling in an H instead of a B?”

“Whoa, great question!” I thought smiling. So I explained how the H looks more like a thin strip of bacon whereas the B- hand doesn’t.

Then I asked if he remembered the sign for coffee.
He made the sign for making out. I snickered and showed him the difference between “making out” and “coffee.”

Then I showed him “syrup.”

“Not to be confused with gas,” I said.

“Gas?” he piped up , “Which kind?”

“The kind you pump.” I showed him my fist. This is the tank, and here’s your spout. My right thumb became a spout.

“Oh!” he smiled mischievously, “How do you sign the other kind???” Men are just little boys in big pants, I thought to myself. Didn‘t my mom always say that?

I only just recently learned that “gas” sign. “Weellll,. . .” I made my hand into a fist again, “You see this fist can have another meaning. It looks like, er. . .an . . .something at the other end of your body. . .that can be offensive.“ He smiled broadly, as I traced around the index finger and thumb of my fist. He understood. Good, I thought.

“In fact,” I went on, “you don’t ever want to do the gasoline sign, stick your thumb ALL the way in, then pull it out with a jerk while frowning at someone or pointing at them. That’s bad. But the other kind of gas sign is. . .well, . . . you can make it look like air is coming out of your fist (which represents the other end) by filling up your cheeks with air, then pushing quick puffs out of your mouth while spreading your other hand out over the obscene part of the fist, OR you can just hold your nose.” I demonstrated. . .

“Why is it bad to. . .?”

“Nevermind,” I cut him off.

Next, it was time to practice. I’m terrible at lip-reading random words. Who isn’t?? There’s no context.

“mmmppfff” he says.

“What?”

Mmmmpppfff” he emphasized.

I still didn’t get it.

“MMMPPPPFFFF.” he said it louder, moving his lips in slow motion.

“Sorry, I’m NOT getting it.”

“You know--MPF!, MMPPFF!” He said in frustration.

“Can you fingerspell it?”

He thought and paused as he formed each letter carefully. I’ve been told by ASL teachers to be patient because man fingers aren’t as nimble as female fingers. I sat. . .waiting. . . patiently.


Then I was confused. “S-t-r-u-n-k?” I guessed.

“NO!” he gasped in frustration. “I forgot “tht-- what’s THT?!?”

“tht?. . .ummmm” I thought hard.

Moving on, we proceeded down my list of vocabulary words. Several chapters worth. Each time I didn’t sign something exactly as it showed in the book, he’d correct me.

“Shows here TWO hands.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s OK to do it with one.” I would assure him.

“That’s not what it shows.” He'd argue.

“Well, I’m telling you it’s OK!”

“Look. YOU did THIS, and the picture shows THIS! He would hold up the book. “You did it WRONG.”

“NO. I. DIDN’T. Deaf people sometimes use one hand because the other hand is busy. They don’t ALWAYS sign everything exactly the way it shows in the book!”

“Well, I’m just telling you so you’ll know. . .And your other hand WASN’T busy! Do you NOT want me to say anything if you do it the wrong way? Because from now on, every time you make a mistake I just won‘t say anything. . .if that‘s what you want . . .”

(sigh)

Then he signed a sentence. “You, me, make-out.” Clear as day. His eyebrows moved up and down suggestively. And another sentence . . . “I horny.”

This was no accident. We learned “horny” a couple years ago in ASL after a German woman accidentally told the entire class how horny she was. “Horny” happens to be one of the few signs my husband has never forgotten. Why? He’s a man.

I adore him, but he’s a lousy study buddy. I don’t get much ASL practice at home. I need Deaf support.

Thank you Mishka

I realize your recent blogging has been to examine implants for children, but it has influenced my decision not to go through with an experimental cochlear surgery.

As many of you know, I went for a cochlear implant evaluation last November. Though I don’t hear speech well, I don’t qualify for a regular implant because I have good low tone frequencies. There’s a new, less invasive type of implant in trials called a hybrid, which only has a ten-inch long electrode instead of twenty-four. Because of the shorter electrode, the cochlea remains relatively in tact and residual hearing supposedly isn’t lost.

For those unfamiliar with this new technology, here’s an article explaining in more detail what it can mean to someone like me with good low tone frequencies.
http://www.hearingresearch.org/Dr.Ross/Implants.htm I’ve pasted a couple of relevant paragraphs here.

"Ski-slope" hearing losses are a common occurrence in our clinics, and they always present a hearing aid fitting challenge. Because the person may have relatively good low frequency hearing, it is necessary to ensure that over-amplification of the low frequencies does not occur. Because the hearing thresholds in the higher frequencies are so poor, it is difficult for a hearing aid to provide aided audibility without producing unacceptable distortion or discomfort. Furthermore, as some recent research has revealed, the cochlea hair cells that respond to the high frequencies may actually be missing (cochlea "dead spots"). Amplifying these areas may be more than useless; it may actually be counter productive. While some of these people may obtain some help from a hearing aid (at the lower and middle frequencies) significant hearing problems almost always remain.

Traditional cochlear implants have rarely been considered an option for people who fall in this category. Almost always, the insertion of a long electrode into the cochlea results in the destruction of the surviving hair cells. Perhaps some people who elect this route would wind up better off, even with the loss of their low frequency residual hearing, but then again perhaps not. It is not a chance that many people are willing to take.

I should add that testing phase two for this hybrid closed last fall in the US, and we’re currently waiting on the FDA to approve testing phase three, which may happen sometime this spring if all goes well. I met criteria for phases one and two. Because the FDA hasn’t yet approved test three, I was told there was no guarantee that I would qualify for phase three. The FDA had the prerogative to change test guidelines. However, at this point there is no reason to believe they would change criteria, so I am on a wait list.

I had some initial qualms when I learned I met the criteria. First of all, a small part of the approval process was based on whether one benefits from hearing aids. My hearing aids are nearly eight years old. Though my aids were state-of-the-art when I bought them, the audiologist who administered my test suggested I might be happier with new hearing aids because several advances have been made in the past decade.

Nevertheless, the audiological evaluation took two hours and was more thorough than many I’ve been through, however not the MOST thorough I’ve sat through. I’m not sure how to put this. I picked up on some vibes from the audiologist. I really didn’t think she wanted to add me to the wait list, but the surgeon was more than happy to. I might be wrong about that. I’m an intuitive person and wanted to talk to her some more, but there wasn‘t time. I have since found out that audiologist has left. Maybe I‘m reading more into this than I should. I don‘t know what to think.
Next, I had a consult with the surgeon who performs the experimental surgery. When I asked about risk the of the hybrid, he glossed over the usual risks of surgery, discussed risks of implant surgery, and finally got down to statistics on the hybrid. Fifteen percent lose their low tone residual hearing in the first year. Considering the whole point of this technology is to PRESERVE low tone hearing, I thought that was a rather HIGH rate of failure. Then he went on to say about five percent end up with WORSE hearing than they started with. I asked about newer hearing aids, and he said I would hear much better with the implant-- if it worked. No guarantees of course.

As we left I told my husband I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with it. He agreed, though tried to remain upbeat. I had a few months to decide, he assured. Later I said the same thing to my dad. His reaction was immediate relief. I didn’t realize how much he had been stressing over the possibility of experimental surgery.

Still. . . I wasn’t sure I was making the right choice. I want to hear. My work is suffering because I deal with the public on a daily basis and I rely on lip-reading with my hearing aids. I hate my hearing aids. They‘re uncomfortable and I have a lot of sound distortion. My hearing is still declining. Anyone with an ongoing hearing loss understands the constant struggle. You’re always adjusting to new lows and readjusting. There’s fluctuation. Tinnitus comes and goes whenever you have a major drop, which also comes and goes. An implant would mean stable hearing on at least one side.

I want to say in NO WAY do I wish to sound as if I'm judging others for their decisions to get a cochlear implant. We're all different with different needs, different bodies, different life experiences. I'm looking at EXPERIMENTAL technology here. If you're a parent of a Deaf child, I can't judge you. I haven't walked in your shoes. My children are hearing. Because of my own deafness, I believe I would have enjoyed raising a Deaf child. Would I wish progressive hearing loss on any of my own children? NO!

For the past several years I’ve been treated by my family doctor, an ENT and a neurologist for excruciating migraines and sinus headaches. While several friends and relatives have suggested maybe the migraines are caused by stress of hearing loss, my neurologist believes the migraines are not psychological. That's OLD science, he says. Most migraines are caused by biological swelling within within the brain. In my case, they are possibly related to sinuses and allergy or an old neck injury.

After reading Mishka’s articles, I realize getting an experimental implant surgery would be adding more fuel to the headache fire. More than a few implantees admitted to Mishka that headache problems resulted from faulty mappings. I’ve seen examples of this first hand myself-- people I know with implants holding their heads in wincing pain. One person I know has had horrible electrical pain running down one side of her face from a faulty electrode. Another I know has been living with cochlear failure for months. I've heard horror stories of testing that rivaled childbirth.

The thing is-- if you read the article it all sounds pretty rosy, doesn’t it?
Then yesterday I went to see my sinus ENT for the first time in several months. Glancing over my chart, he saw the report from my visit to the Cochlear research center last November.

“What’s this all about?” he asked.

.
“Experimental Hybrid Cochlear Implant.” I said.

“EXPERIMENTAL? BE CAREFUL WITH THAT.” he warned.

"I'm not doing it." I told him. It wasn't until that moment I realized I had made up my mind.

I’ve always believed in fate and messages from angels. Someone’s trying to tell me something. Thanks Mishka. You're an angel.

SEX BUNNY ADVICE

After reading all this blogging hullabaloo about Deaf Sex Bunnies last Saturday night, I found myself reflecting on romance, sex, porn and the differences between men and women. I'll back up a little and confess I became hopelessly hooked on opera decades ago when my hearing wasn't as bad as it is now.

What a lot of people don't realize is how visually stimulating opera can be. The stage sets are always changing. Furniture moves, walls are added, floors are raised and lowered between scenes. A couple years ago, when I went to see Macbeth, the walls bled! Lights, shadows, colors convey a mood. The choreography is lively or graceful, and the costumes dazzling. The acting is way more dramatic than Hollywood acting. (Yes--I'm going to talk about sex-- I promise.)

Finally, because opera is usually (not always) sung in a foreign language most metropolitan productions are subtitled, so I don't have to ask for extra accommodations. It's the one time I can just be part of the crowd without feeling deaf. 95% of the audience doesn't understand the story line without reading it either. If you're used to watching captioned TV, it's a breeze-- especially since they take forever to say one simple line because they're singing it, and they repeat it fifteen times.


Sunday's production was Pagliacci by Ruggero Leoncavallo. An unusually short opera that began with a sweet erotic love scene, it included a rare circus performance in the second act, then ended with a sudden double homicide. All in all, a fairly typical story line, except the circus act. Neither composer or opera was well-known to me, which was a treat because I've seen most all the popular operas at least twice now. However, I learned a bit of dirt about Leoncavallo later-- that he had once been accused of plagiarizing, since he wrote an opera titled La Boheme that was basically the same story as Puccini's. It was never proven, but is rarely performed today. (The sex part is coming up! Be patient!!)


Opera was considered racy in its heyday. In earlier times, women weren't allowed to act or sing on stage, so males had to play the parts of women. Castrati (males castrated before puberty) with high voices dressed in female costumes, and sang all the soprano parts on stage. It was considered an honor to be chosen to be castrato, even though it meant painful sexual mutilation at age ten. Highly paid and valued, they were pampered, spoiled, demanding, fussy and difficult. Opera parts were written specifically for castrati, whose voices were unique in their range. The practice of castrating little boys for opera finally ceased in the early 19th C. No one alive today has ever heard a castrato sing. Ironically today's operas sometimes feature women dressed up as young males to play former castrati parts, which sometimes have been tweaked a bit to allow for soprano voices, since castrati no longer exist. It doesn't matter to me because I can't tell the difference anyway. (Obviously I don't attend the opera for the music, though I can hear a good share of the baritone singing and many of the base instruments because of my good low frequencies.)

You might think it affected their love lives, but going under "the knife" benefited the castrati in love. Because efficient birth control was lacking, castrated males were in demand. Upper-class married women whose husbands left town for extended periods enjoyed the services of castrati. Wealthy unmarried women -- perhaps "old maids" and widows-- also depended on castrati services. (Realize "old maids" and "widows" could be all of twenty-three in the mid- 18th century.) The use of Castrati ensured no messy unwanted pregnancy. Love affairs, rolling around in the sheets, enjoying a boy toy-- this is nothing new in the 21st C. Woman have always loved sex and and have been in touch with their sexual side since before Cleopatra. (No-- I would never, ever, ever WANT a castrato! Thank God for modern birth control!! The SEX TALK IS IN THE NEXT PARAGRAPH)

I had to laugh at the suggestion some men recently proposed in a blog about "Deaf Porn" -- that porn could actually be a "good thing" for women because it might "help" them enjoy their sexuality. What?! Could they be that clueless? If you are a guy reading this, I hate to tell you, but if your woman doesn't like sex, it's not HER, it's YOU. Get a clue! She LIKES sex, just not with YOU.

We aren't that complicated. Shakespeare got it right with Romeo and Juliette. Wooing a woman is all about romance and chivalry. That's why groups of us go to operas to salivate over Rodolfo in La Boheme. Put those porn flicks AWAY and pick up a chick flick for once! Practice what you see THOSE guys doing. Notice how tenderly Roldolfo treats Mimi. Act like Rodolfo or the Flying Dutchman, or even Superman. You might be surprised by how your woman starts expressing her sexuality. (No you don't have to fly!) What every woman loved about Superman was he cared enough about Lois Lane to be there when she needed him EVERY TIME. It was never about his super powers. Clark Kent simply missed the boat! He was always too busy in that phone booth when she needed a man. Two words. Foreplay = Romance. Trust me. I'm a woman. I know way more about it than a bunch of guys who make porn.

Do I have to love deafness to accept it?

The concept of self-acceptance and Deafhood has been tossed around quite a bit lately. Many have differing opinions regarding what this means to Deafness or deafness. Does it mean you need to love being deaf? Or does it mean you merely need to accept deafness? What does it mean to accept deafness if you don't love deafness? How can you love yourself as a d/Deaf person if you don't love being d/Deaf?

I have come to believe self-acceptance or self-love should not depend at all on our physical abilities. I believe anyone who has lost a sense or become disabled late in life may come to the same conclusion. I am not a lesser person because I lost my hearing. I'm still me. If I gained my hearing back, I would not be a better person. I would still be me. I am me with or without my hearing. The same logic applies to a born Deaf person. He or she would not be a better person if he or she could suddenly hear. Neither Deafhood or "Hearinghood" is something to be celebrated. We are all who we are. Our abilities to hear have nothing to do with who we are. However, we all may wish to celebrate our own individual wonderful journeys through life, whether we can hear or not. There is no doubt a d/Deaf journey can be as exciting and fulfilling as a hearing one.


Taking this one step further, I believe self-acceptance cannot be attached to any ideal physical measure of being. Because the physical body is prone to change, self acceptance must be come from within. Intrinsic values are the foundation of self-acceptance, not extrinsic values. Just as perfect hearing is nothing to celebrate, so is Deafness nothing to celebrate. How we look, our weight, beauty at a certain age, flawless skin, our height, our hair . . .If we live long enough-- it all goes. It's better to love ourselves for who we are inside rather than how we look, how well we hear, see, walk, and so on. Our bodies fall apart over time. Our physical bodies are impermanent.

Other impermanent values are status, identity, reputation, job, money, sports performances, health -- the list is endless. . . Even the level of education we've received loses its importance over time. Those who base self-acceptance on impermanent values remain in constant struggle to maintain self-acceptance. There is always someone who makes more money, has a better job, is in better physical shape, has nicer kids, plays a better game of golf, owns a better car, has a bigger stamp collection or a prettier garden, a cooler blog. . .etc. While maintaining one's health is a worthy goal, the fact is we are all born with a certain combination of genes that leave one prone to health conditions others may not have to worry about.

So you might ask-- What should we base self-love on if not our accomplishments, what we own, or physical attributes?

The truth is others do not love us for our cars or our beautiful gardens, and our stamp collections. Those who "love" us for beauty don't love us, they only love the idea of people seeing them with us. It's intrinsic value that makes each of us special and lovable. That perfect ball of combined peculiarities that creates your unique essence. The fact that maybe you sleep with one eye half open, or you always only hiccup three times then it's over, and Brussels sprouts make you truly gag and there's a cute story about how you got lost in New York City when you were only three, or that everyone LOVES your popcorn because you slather it in butter. Really!! It's silly, but that's what people love about you, or it's some other thing just that silly. I've grieved and I've seen others grieve. No one ever says, "He had such a GREAT car!" when they're grieving. They say things like, "Remember how he used to vacuum the carpet in such perfect lines, but always missed under the coffee table?" or "Gawd, how she loved those ugly dancing shoes--do you remember?"

Self-acceptance should be rooted in the principles we live by. Some common values might be service to the needy, honesty, simplicity, environmental awareness, faith in something-- whether it's Jesus Christ or the Democratic party, peace, mindfulness, spreading joy, teaching others, searching for truth, not eating anything that has to be killed . . . and so on. These intrinsic values are not impacted by life circumstances. When self-love is based on ethics, ability to accept self remains in tact.

Deaf and deaf people currently have many opportunities of focus that may promote communication, unite and strengthen their communities. We can choose commitment toward better understanding of each other. Working towards unity is a wonderful way to express self-acceptance.

Lessons from Dr. Seuss

When I was a little girl my favorite bedtime story was The Sneetches. My dad used to read it to me using funny voices. It wasn't until many years later, I realized this book was really about racism. I think because the message contained in this book was so important to my dad, he took great care to read it in an entertaining way, so I would understand. You see, as a little girl I lived in a suburb of Detroit during the Civil Rights movement, when there was much racial tension between black and white people. I lived in a white neighborhood. Many of our neighbors were racists. My dad didn't approve of racism, and was strongly in favor of Civil Rights. He used to argue with neighbors over this. He did things other white people found intolerable-- such as making friends with black people and inviting black coworkers to his cocktail parties. To a certain extent, I did understand the message of this book as a small child-- that it was wrong to be unkind to someone because of how they looked. I could relate to the feeling of being left out. I also understood my dad was different from most our neighbors in that he wouldn't allow racial slurs or jokes in our home.

Today, I was reading in one of my favorite bloggers sites. She's oral-deaf, and made a comment about what it's like.


"For a deaf chick that has a habit of running her mouth has grown up in what some people have called the “hearing world,” I never found a hearing person who could relate to me and my quirky ways of getting through the day. I have been called weird countless of times and I acknowledge that since I eat pizza with a fork, put potato chips on my hoagies, and I swallow gum. Ironically, I have almost NO experience with the “deaf world” and what little experience I did have I was shunned. When deaf people can talk, there seems to be a common theme that people like me are deaf to the “hearing world,” and hearing to the “deaf world.” Where do we fit in? We don’t. Personally, I feel that there is no such a thing as a “hearing world” and a “deaf world” because it implies that the world is divided by a common denominator, which is a contradiction unto itself. Last time I checked, we all walk on the same terra firma, witness the same solar rotation, and feel the same splash of rain on our face. I don’t define the world I live in as a white or black world, or a Christian or Jewish world, or a Wal-Mart or Target world, so why would I lend to reason that a hearing and deaf world exist? I feel the world is my oyster and I intend to crack it open." http://contradica.blogspot.com/2007/12/greatest-moment-of-year.html


Lately I have been thinking the message of Dr. Suess could be applied to Deaf and deaf. From my perspective and many of us on the 'd' side of the fence, the d/Deaf distinction is about exclusion and disharmony within a community. We feel like a Sneetch without stars on our bellies wherever we go.


Here is the story of the Sneetches once again.

Bellies With Stars

THE SNEETCHES by Dr. Suess

Now the Star-bellied Sneetches had bellies with stars. The Plain-bellied Sneetches had none upon thars. The stars weren't so big; they were really quite small. You would think such a thing wouldn't matter at all. But because they had stars, all the Star-bellied Sneetches would brag, "We're the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches."



With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they'd snort, " We'll have nothing to do with the plain-bellied sort." And whenever they met some, when they were out walking, they'd hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Star-bellied children went out to play ball, could the Plain-bellies join in their game? Not at all! You could only play ball if your bellies had stars, and the Plain-bellied children had none upon thars.

When the Star-bellied Sneetches had frankfurter roasts, or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts, they never invited the Plain-bellied Sneetches. Left them out cold in the dark of the beaches. Kept them away; never let them come near, and that's how they treated them year after year.

Then one day, it seems, while the Plain-bellied Sneetches were moping, just moping alone on the beaches, sitting there, wishing their bellies had stars, up zipped a stranger in the strangest of cars.

"My friends, " he announced in a voice clear and keen, "My name is Sylvester McMonkey McBean. I've heard of your troubles; I've heard you're unhappy. But I can fix that; I'm the fix-it-up chappie. I've come here to help you; I have what you need. My prices are low, and I work with great speed, and my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed."

Then quickly, Sylvester McMonkey McBean put together a very peculiar machine. Then he said, "You want stars like a Star-bellied Sneetch? My friends, you can have them . . . . for three dollars each. Just hand me your money and climb on aboard."

They clambered inside and the big machine roared. It bonked. It clonked. It jerked. It berked. It bopped them around, but the thing really worked. When the Plain-bellied Sneetches popped out, they had stars! They actually did, they had stars upon thars!

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars from the start, "We're exactly like you; you can't tell us apart. We're all just the same now, you snooty old smarties. Now we can come to your frankfurter parties!"

"Good grief!" groaned the one who had stars from the first. "We're still the best Sneetches, and they are the worst. But how in the world will we know," they all frowned, "if which kind is what or the other way 'round?"

Then up stepped McBean with a very sly wink, and he said, "Things are not quite as bad as you think. You don't know who's who, that is perfectly true. But come with me, friends, do you know what I'll do? I'll make you again the best Sneetches on beaches, and all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.

Belly stars are no longer in style, " said McBean. "What you need is a trip through my stars-off machine. This wondrous contraption will take off your stars, so you won't look like Sneetches who have them on thars."

That handy machine, working very precisely, removed all the stars from their bellies quite nicely. Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about. They opened their beaks and proceeded to shout, "We now know who's who, and there isn't a doubt, the best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without."

Then, of course those with stars all got frightfully mad. To be wearing a star now was frightfully bad. Then, of course old Sylvester McMonkey McBean invited them into his stars-off machine. Then, of course from then on, you can probably guess, things really got into a horrible mess.
All the rest of the day on those wild screaming beaches, the Fix-it-up-Chappie was fixing up Sneetches. Off again, on again, in again, out again, through the machine and back round about again, still paying money, still running through, changing their stars every minute or two, until neither the Plain- nor the Star-bellies knew whether this one was that one or that one was this one or which one was what one or what one was who!

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent, the Fix-It-Up-Chappie packed up and he went. And he laughed as he drove in his car up the beach, "They never will learn; no, you can't teach a Sneetch!"

But McBean was quite wrong, I'm quite happy to say, the Sneetches got quite a bit smarter that day. That day, they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches, and no kind of Sneetch is the BEST on the beaches. That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars, and whether they had one or not upon thars.

I have no use for labels. Thanks DAD!