Great Deaf Talent-- Regina Olson Hughes

So today I’m reading my book called Great Deaf Americans and once again I’m inspired by what so many were able to achieve. Their intelligence, creativity, bravery, and diligence were awesome. It’s so hard to pick just one person to highlight each week.

One point that struck me while reading other deaf blogs this past week however was the negativity surrounding oralism. Deaf people who use “hearing behaviors” or who speak occasionally instead of always communicating in ASL may be accused of not acting deaf by their peers—and this is NOT a compliment.. Read this blog. As someone who is late-deafened I almost always use my voice, though I’m learning ASL. I feel far removed from this oralism debate and can’t comment to the deaf perspective.

But as someone who is neither fully hearing or culturally deaf I will say this-- I do not believe all deaf people can learn to speak or lipread. It is wrong for the hearing to force such high expectations on the deaf. Over the years, the ability to speak among the deaf has wrongly been associated with intelligence level in some cases, which has hurt many highly intelligent deaf people. I want to be clear that the ability to speak and lipread is only related to one’s hearing ability and nothing more. Simply stated, some deaf people hear more than other deaf people. Some are born deaf, while others become deaf during childhood or later, after learning to speak. All of these factors taken into consideration can lead to greater advantages when learning to lipread and speak and also reading and writing abilities.

For example it is a known fact young children benefit from playing language games and being read to long before they begin reading themselves. Early language skills are the foundational building blocks of reading and writing skills. Children who are born deaf are not exposed to English language as young children. If a person becomes deaf after age five, naturally he or she will be at a greater advantage for learning to read, even though he or she did not learn to read before deafness because the language building blocks were put in place.

Then again, the deaf develop other language building blocks related to ASL. No one has ever studied this to my knowledge, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that IQ testing is skewed for the deaf simply because they think and process information differently. My guess is they are all much smarter than we know. Psychologists already understand IQ testing is not as much of a science as it is an art. We’re continually discovering new information about the brain—new ways of measuring intelligence and new types of intelligences. I suspect ASL expands intelligence in ways we have not measured yet. The deaf see our world differently and we would be wise to make the most of their gifts.

Instead we have tried to force them to be oral like square pegs into round holes. This has led to backlash among the deaf —a sort of reverse discrimination where everything “hearing” may be perceived as against deaf culture.

There was a simpler time long ago when deaf people could be oral or non-oral, and there was no rift in the deaf community. It didn’t matter. You simply did what you had to do to get ahead.

Regina Olson Hughes was one such person. She was born in 1895 and died in 1993. Always interested in drawing from the time she was a young child her parents had her tutored privately in art. At age ten she became sick with Scarlet Fever and began losing her hearing. (Another source said a doctor poured oil into her ears when she was a child.) It’s hard to know what caused her progressive hearing loss to start. She was deaf by the time she turned fourteen.

Then she went to Gallaudet for her Bachelor’s and a Masters in art. (Later, because of all her accomplishments she was given and honorary doctorate degree.) Incredibly she was able to speak four languages by lipreading: French, Spanish, Portuguese and Italian. Most the time she lipread if it wasn’t too important to understand, but if she needed to be sure of details she had people write the words out on paper.

Eventually she took on a job for the State Department as a translator. Then later she worked for the Department of Agriculture as a scientific illustrator. She also took on another job with the Smithsonian’s Department of Botany painting plants. Today her work can be found in plant manuals, on pesticide labels, and in dictionaries, as well as museums and cards.

Say What??

So today I showed up for my djembe lesson, and my instructor greeted me with, "Hi! You can go ahead and use the bathroom first before we start-- if you don't mind."

I didn't need to go to the bathroom. I am fifty years old. I think I know when I need to use the bathroom! My drum lesson is only a half-hour long! This was strange for him to insist I use the bathroom! Firmly, but politely I responded, "No thank-you, I already went before I came." (not that it's any of your damned business I thought to myself)

His eyebrows furrowed and there was a looong pause before he said, ". . .NO. . .I need to use the bathroom. . .IF you don't mind?"

"Oh." I said sheepishly, then started laughing like a crazy woman when it hit me how funny the whole misunderstanding was. I was still laughing when he came back from the bathroom. I'm quite sure he thinks I'm a nut.

That Doggone Sound

In the book This Is Your Brain On Music, author Daniel J. Levitin brought up an intriguing philosophical line of thought. He said the flavor vanilla doesn't exist in a bowl of pudding until your tongue touches it.

Then he went on to elaborate about light. Darkness doesn't exist. It's simply the absence of light, which only exists when we perceive it with our eyes.

Finally he got around to sound. It only exists when we hear it. Dogs and whales hear things we don't hear. We hear things other animals don't hear. Sound waves can't be seen or touched. They're invisible. Sound simply wouldn't exist for us at all if we had no mechanism to perceive it.

You see where I'm going with this. Sound is defined only by what we hear. Definitions are agreed upon by most humans. Normal hearing is defined by what the majority of humans hear, not what dogs or whales hear. Humans are deaf to sounds dogs and whales hear. However, those sounds still exist for a dog or whale. If deafness were defined by dogs, humans would be considered deaf. Does this not mean all humans are "deaf" to some degree?

What is a disability? It's all relative.

Later, Levitin explained it is not only what we hear but how we process what we hear that impacts our hearing perception, as well. Not all of us process what we hear the same way. What I hear is different from what other humans hear, and how I process it is different depending on the experiences I associate with certain sounds, and my genetic make-up and a lot of other technical biological considerations. This is why different people prefer different kinds of music, different voices, different rhythms, and so on.

The book is a fascinating, but highly technical look at how the brain processes sound and gave me lots to think about.

Yes-- it's still me.

I can't stand looking at the same background all the time. So just bear with me-- PLEASE? It's a quirk--like the need to try on different clothing. Do any of you watch "Curb Your Enthusiasm"? Very funny the other night. I would be the one standing in front of Larry David trying on all the different perfumes or trying all the little ice cream flavors while he's waiting in a hurry. Well maybe I'm not that bad when there's a line-up. But I like to try different things and I need/crave change.

I love this time of year when the weather is changing. I love this time of life because my life is changing. I'm changing my house, redecorating rooms, and learning new how to do new things. It's fun and exciting. I never thought middle-age would be so fun.



I may not look like this woman, but I feel this young and sexy and free when I belly-dance, and that's half the battle of aging. It's all in your mind. So 'scuse me while I go practice my dance moves. I have things to do. . .

Did You Know. . . ???

Thomas Edison was nearly deaf? Some sources say he inherited a progressive hearing loss from his father, while others say it was possibly caused by scarlet fever when he was 14. He himself often claimed he had been "boxed" in the ears while riding a train. He heard a pop and lost his hearing after that. It's hard to say what caused his hearing loss, but he was totally deaf in one ear and 80% deaf in the other.

Sept. 24- 30 is Deaf Awareness Week. This came out of the The World Federation of the Deaf Congress, which met in July of this year. The idea is to educate the public about hh/deafness, its causes, the culture of deafness and the fact that the deaf/hh are highly capable, productive people who have contributed much to the world.

Deaf Hero Day -- Cal Rodgers

Cal Rodgers was born Jan. 12, 1879 and died on Apr. 3, 1912. He became sick with Scarlet Fever when he was six years old and lost his hearing. His achievements were never listed in "deaf" records because he had very little connection to the deaf. However, a biographer Eileen Lebow wrote that he was "almost totally deaf." Additionally, Henry Kisor said that "records of the time say he understood less than half of what was said to him and that his own speech was hard to understand. . . .(While) he could have been classified as severely hard-of-hearing,. . . he experienced what we do, and I consider him one of us."

Rodgers was the first civilian to ever to own a Wright Bros. Flyer bi-plane, and the first to make a transcontinental flight. Of course it wasn't non-stop. Bi-planes weren't capable of that. He named his plane the Vin Fiz, and began his trip at Sheepshead Bay, Long Island, NY on 17 Sept 1911 just four months after getting his flying license. He landed nearly two months later at Pasadena, CA on Nov 5, 1911 after crossing over the Rocky Mountains.

Since the biplane had no navigational equipment he followed the railroads. His bi-plane was temperamental and needed daily repairs. He had no windshield and no protection from bad weather. His body was exposed to the cold and the elements at all times. The plane was blown about in swift gusts of wind. Made of wood, metal and wire, it was light and delicate, difficult to maneuver and unstable. He died flying just four months after his infamous transcontinental crossing when he lost control of his plane near Long Beach, California. Below is a picture of Cal Rodgers with his plane, the Vin Fiz.

You Can Cuss Here

Speaking of lipreading, some funny things happened over the years with my kids. A lot of times I mis-read their lips and threw their friends for a loop when I gave some crazy answer to a question. Sometimes we would laugh and laugh about it later, though I can't remember any of the details now. I wish I had written all my weird bloopers down.

I remember one time though. My son was about twelve and he had invited a new friend over. They had just started playing Nintendo when I began to walk through the room. The friend shouted something I didn't hear, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. My son, sitting on the sofa bragged, "It's OK, my mom is almost deaf, so you can cuss all you want at my house."

Then I added--"But I read lips-- so make sure your back is turned." Both boys pitched and gawked -- mouths hanging open in perfect O's. They did not realize I was in the room. I winked, and walked out laughing wickedly.

Ever since, I have wondered just exactly how much swearing went on behind my back. I'll never know. But my kids have turned out OK . . for the most part.

This Whole Stupid LipReading Thing

I'm late-deafened. I can read lips, and I do pretty well at it. But I want to clarify what this means exactly because there seems to be a lot of misconception out there about super beings and miraculous lip reading skills.

First of all, let me just say right here if you ever saw the show F.B. EYE with the deaf Deanne Bray, you need to understand this is a TV show. It's make-believe. Fiction. No one in the real world reads lips THAT well. You have to be able to hear a little bit to be able to lip read. The more you hear, the better you do. Many deaf people have some residual hearing that helps them with lip reading and that's why some can "get by" with it.

I still have some low tone hearing. I am deaf to most speech sounds, but I because I hear some speech sounds--specifically vowels-- I can "get by" with lip reading. Vowel sounds are almost always made in the back of the throat. They can't be seen on the lips. Try it. Say the vowel sounds to yourself--short and long. Chances are the only time you'll move your lips is when you say the long O and long U. Even then, a deaf person wouldn't know if you were making the O, OO, or OW sound just by looking at your lips. I am lucky because I can hear the difference since I still hear low tones. There are vowels in every word. This helps me a LOT.

In fact, 70% of all sounds in the English language cannot be seen on the lips because the sounds are made in the back of the throat. If a person hears nothing at all, that means they must guess at 70% of what can't be seen. Doesn't that seem like an awful lot of guessing to you? It sure does to me.

Even if you were able to guess those 70% of sounds you can't see, you would still have more guessing to do. Why? Because so many other sounds look exactly alike on the lips-- t and d, k and g, p and b, f and v, s and z. I cannot hear the differences of any of these sounds. I cannot hear these sounds at all. When I talk to people, I have to guess.

Since I grew up hearing English and losing my hearing bit by bit, I learned an association of sound with lips. I have some context to help put the sounds in the right places. I understand the rhythm of speech, especially those voices I've known a long time. I can guess what some people are going to say before they say it, and sometimes I guess what they have said just by the rhythm of the sound because I know them. The point is I'm guessing what people are saying. I'm NOT "reading their lips."

I can not imagine how difficult it would be for a deaf child to learn this skill with no previous exposure to the sounds and rhythm of speech.

Then-- there are other problems with lipreading.
1. The person has an accent so he or she doesn't pronounce his or her letters the way most English speakers do.
2. The person doesn't move his or her lips while speaking. Some are so shy they barely move their mouths at all when they speak. Other people are paralyzed and can't.
3. The person has a speech impediment.
4. The person is self-conscious of his or her mouth and covers it a lot.
5. The person has a hairy beard that covers the lips.
6. The person has some kind of distracting oral tick or fixation such as playing with a pierced tongue, or talking out of the side of his or her mouth.
7. The person chews gum or bites nails.
8. The person is missing many teeth and cannot pronounce words correctly
9. There is glare behind the person's head, making it difficult for you to see the lips.
10. It's too dark.
11. The person is distracted or shy and has a hard time facing you. Or simply won't!
12. There is background noise drowning out what little sound you hear, so you have to guess even more than 70% of the conversation.
(I probably haven't covered everything here so feel free to list a few of your own if you think of something.)

Let's face it. Lipreading is a fine TOOL, but it's not a great way to communicate. It requires way too much work. Knowing all these facts about lip reading makes shows like F. B. Eye upsetting to me mainly because it promotes unrealistic expectations of the deaf.

When my progressive hearing loss was first diagnosed my doctor encouraged me to learn to lip read, but it turned out I already knew how, because I had picked it up on my own as a kid. I was "assessed" as an expert lip reader-- meaning I could lip read those 30% of sounds that could be seen on the lips. However, the lip reading didn't help. I was stressed all the time trying to communicate with people. Can you imagine trying to guess what people were talking about 70% of the time? HLA (SHHH) also encourages lip reading by passing out little buttons to wear in public with they words, "Face me, I lip read." This is so wrong to do because, again I want to stress, it promotes the false assumption that lip-reading is a way to communicate.

Often I let people know I read lips, but I also tell them I'm learning ASL too. I wish someone (like HLA) had encouraged me to learn ASL earlier. I have talked to so many late-deafened people who feel disappointed in their inabilities to learn lip reading. They thought it would be easy, then found out how hard it was. They thought there was something wrong with them, rather than with the program!!

People who promote lip reading skills promote false hope for all hard-of-hearing, d-deaf, and D-deaf. They set us up for failure. It doesn't work! What we need-- the late-deafened especially- is more community outreach so we and our families can learn ASL.

I love you, Mrs. Jones

Yesterday Mrs. Jones came into the library. "How are you today?" She talks and signs at the same time.

"Good. YOU?" I talk and sign back.

"I'm starting a new job. Nervous!" she signs.

I love Mrs. Jones. Her daughter is deaf. Mrs. Jones works with deaf kids and she signs without thinking because she signs all day. She knows I sign because I sign to her daughter when she comes into the library. I'm the only one in the library who signs to her daughter. I guess they don't run into many people in public who sign, so it's a big deal when they do, and they always make a point to come over and talk to me. My signing is very rudimentary. I need practice-- bad.

One problem with being late-deafened is finding people to practice ASL with. There are ASL classes, but most the students are hearing and the classes are often geared toward hearing people who want to become interpreters. I'm more of a visual learner. In that sense I feel I might "think" like a deaf person. ASL seems so logical to me. I pick up the vocabulary quickly and retain it well. I do better in immersion classes where talking isn't allowed. My downfall is fingerspelling. I hate it. I LOVE deaf people-- the way they express themselves. My deaf teacher from the Hearing, Speech and Deafness Cntr. was so funny and patient with me. But she moved and it became harder for us to get together. I miss her. I have met several other wonderful deaf people, but few live in my area, and it has been hard to coordinate our work schedules.

There are deaf gatherings in my community organized by a hearing ASL teacher who I can't stand. She got on my case last fall about my inability to lip read in the dark. 'Scuse me, but when it's dark it's pretty hard for people who rely on their eyes for communication. I found out later she has offended a lot of deaf people all over Seattle-metro, but I live in a small community and she's here shoving her way in. I won't have anything to do with her.

"I love it when you sign to me, Mrs. Jones." I said.

She looked a little confused and surprised. "Really?"

Time to play

It didn't hit me how happy I am until this morning when a mother came into the library with her screaming toddler. She struggled with him for a bit, then walked out carrying him, a large tote bag full of board books (none for herself), diaper bag dangling from one finger of the barely free hand holding the toddler while the other hand pushed his stroller.

"My youngest son moved out this past weekend," I announced to the librarian next to me. I couldn't conceal the smile on my face.

"Really? How do you feel about that? she asked, "Empty Nest? Not sad to see him go?"

"Not really."

Actually I'm elated. I know I'm supposed to be sad. Leaving him at the dorm last Friday I saw other mothers milling around with wet faces. Because my husband was in the throes of yet another Menieres attack I didn't have time for Kodak moments and tears of nostalgia. I thought maybe it would hit later, but it never did. The packing, loading and moving of heavy boxes-- plus the long drive home wore me out. We went straight to bed that night.

The next day was our 28th anniversary. I forgot. My husband said he had to go out for a bit then came back with 24 red roses. How had it slipped my mind? Later we went to eat at a quaint little cafe locally known for its comfort foods-- especially its soup and hand made baked goods. We ordered wine, clinked glasses and told each other the years had gone by too quickly, then ended our meal sharing a heavenly marion berry crunch desert still warm from the oven.

"I'd like to live in this town some day," he said. We have talked of moving there often. It's away from the crowds and traffic, but close enough to Seattle for an evening of opera or an afternoon baseball game. I pictured the two of us walking around that country town --maybe down to that very restaurant for brunch and coffee, then to the library. A nice thought.

Yesterday, he made breakfast before I got out of bed. Then he built a towel cabinet for our master bathroom while I spiffied up the house. The cabinet looked too bland against the cream colored walls, which reminded me of the paint I bought a couple months ago on sale--the color of beach sand. Someone else's mistake. My good fortune! I've been planning to paint my bathroom with it for awhile. Now I'll have the time! And that reminded me I needed to paint my son's bedroom too. Before I move all my stuff in there.

I've always wanted a place for my crafts. I've started so many over the years, then put them away because I didn't have enough room to spread out. There are my grandmother's quilting pieces I want to put together, beads for jewelry making, knitting needles, crochet hooks and tangled bundles of yarn, genealogy scrapbooks I started for family members and embroidery projects I never finished, not to mention my photo albums-- all disorganized.

Later, a friend and I got to talking about the situation with her boyfriend. We decided we needed to talk some more over cocktails soon. Then out of the blue she asked, "Hey! would you like to go do a corn maze in the dark?" Corn mazes are big around here. You can get lost in them. What fun!

Another friend has been pestering me to go jet-skiing on the next nice day we both have off work. She got a great deal on her jetskiis, and she's just itching to get out there on the lake before the weather gets too cold.

This morning when I showed up for work my boss asked, "We need someone to cover for ________. Death in the family. You want some extra hours?"

"Maybe," I said.

"What does your Tuesday look like?"

"I have ASL, but I'm free after that."

"How about Wednesday?"

"I have djembe lessons, but I could probably fit it around that if you're flexible."

"Thursday?"

"I belly-dance."

In late October I'm going to Mexico, and we're planning a trip to Europe soon. Very soon. . .No kids.

I haven't had this much freedom or fun in years. That's why it hit me this morning watching that mother with her toddler. It's the freedom from responsibility that feels so good. I only have to answer to myself now. For the past 25 years, I've had other commitments and responsibilities to other people-- little people who needed me-- constantly-- even up until this past weekend when we moved our son into his dorm. Now I'm feeling like a kid again myself. But with brains. And money. Two things I didn't have when young. OK-- and I'm a little bit out of shape now too. But I can fix that. Starting today I added "walking more" to my routine. Am I sad? Naw. My kids are grown, and I'm so proud of them! It's time to play!

Deaf Hero Robert Weitbrecht

This past week my belly dancing instructor made the comment, "There's a fine line between erotic and exotic." In dancing, the difference is in how many inches apart you hold your feet while shimmying. Just a few inches can create a completely different look-- alluring and graceful or flaunting and brash.

The debate we've been having in here and on other blogs between "audism" and "deafism" got me thinking about the lines we draw between ourselves as deaf people. Medically speaking there's a fine line between a severe hearing loss and a profound hearing loss. There's a fine line between "hard-of-hearing" and "late-deafened" or "d-deaf." There's a fine line between oral deaf who were born without hearing and late-deafened who were born hearing, then lost most of their hearing. I know several oral "d-deaf" who hear better than me, who also sign better than me and speak well too. It seems to me they are the best off because they speak and sign so well. I envy them. I wish I were fluent in ASL, but I didn't grow up with a profound hearing loss. I am trying to learn.

Part of the reason I blog is to inform hearing people about deaf people. This is why I have Deaf Hero Day each week. Today's hero is deaf physicist, Robert H. Weitbrecht who invented the coupler for the TTY. Born deaf on April 11, 1920 in Orange, California, Weitbrecht was tutored in speechreading-- the prevailing method of deaf education at that time. He did not learn ASL until he was an adult. Because of his hard work, deaf people were able to communicate with each other by phone.

To read more about Weitbrecht, click on his name.

Does Audism Exist?

Today was one of those beautiful late summer days in the Northwest--a perfect 80 degrees. I drove around with sunroof and all the windows open listening to my Lonesome Dove CD and the volume cranked way up, my leg pressed against the driver's side door, so I could feel the vibrations of the music as I drove.

Track one starts out with the most sublime french horn solo ever, and I can still hear it, because I still have my low tones. It gives me chills. I live a little bit in the country outside of the Seattle-metro area. On a nice day like this wherever I drive there are mountains in the distance. The country roads where I live are full of green pastures, horses, bright yellow wildflowers and barns. Soon I will have my laptop fixed so I'll be able to upload my own pics to my blog. By that time the weather will turn crappy.

I am feeling so hopeful about the future and the possibility of hearing music again in its entirety someday, if or when I qualify for a cochlear implant. OK-- I know music will never be perfect--but better!! I'm trying hard not to get my hopes up too high because the main focus should be on communication.

I have been arguing with someone about whether or not audism exists. This is an interesting question. People have occasionally been verbally abusive to be because of my hearing loss, but the vast majority have been kind. I have always assumed those who were discourteous were simply rude people.

As someone who is late-deafened and a WASP, it never occurred to me I might ever be a victim of some sort of discrimination. Now with blatant examples of audist behavior in the news, I'm not so sure.

My argument that audism exists would be:

A) the rude behavior experienced by many deaf people. Other disabled people do not seem to be targets of similar abuse.

B) lack of accommodations in public places like movie theaters, live theaters and hotels, even though equal access has been mandated by federal ADA laws.

C) lack of adequate accommodations in the work place and under-employment of the deaf.

So far the argument against--

A) My spellchecker doesn't believe audism is a word. But that's OK. I'm not sure blog is a word.

In fact, I wonder if spellchecker is a word?

See Paotie and Ridor for two very different points of view. What do YOU think? Have YOU experienced audism? Have you experienced ANY kinds of isms? Do you get very tired of blond jokes? I do too! How about "over 50" jokes?? Aren't those the worst?!

The picture above was painted by Chuck Baird. It's called "Bird of Paradise."

TV Klutz

I am a TV klutz. It's not because I don't watch TV. I LOVE certain programs. It's because I have never had control of the remote in my life.

When I was a kid I had an older brother who controlled the TV set and the three stations we were able to pull with our rabbit ears antennae. Later when I lost my hearing in my twenties, I let my roommate control the set. Why not? I wasn't interested since there wasn't any captioning. That lasted a good fifteen years.

Then, in the 90s TV shows started being captioned. By that time I had a husband who walked around with the remote glued to his hand when we were both home. We got more TV's, but then I had sons who learned to model their fathers TV habit. Whoever controlled the remote RULED. I gave up.

Somewhere between then and now television has became more complicated. Our digital cable has hundreds of channels. You have to go through about 17 steps to put the captioning on the HDTV after telling it to disconnect from the computer game thingy it's hooked up to. Then you have choices between HD programs or not-- hundreds and hundreds of choices. The TV guide has endless listings of stations. One day in TV guide equals pages and pages of charted out programming you may or may not receive depending on your cable company and package you've chosen. It's overwhelming. I long for the old days when we had just three stations and the NBC color peacock. I KNEW which station my programs were on and how to operate my TV.

Tonight my daughter called home with an urgent question--

"Is DAD home?"

"No."

"How about Tom?"

"No."

"Alex?"

"I'm home alone."

"Do you know how to work on-demand?"

"What's that?"

"Where is everyone?? ON DEMAND! It's on the TV!"

"What do you need, you could tell me."

"Yeah-- OK-- turn to channel one."

"How do I do that?"

"Press. . .the. . .ON. . . button. . . Pick. . .up. . .the. . .remote. . .and. . . press. . . number. . .one."

And so-- I learned how to operate ON DEMAND tonight. You go to station number one. There is a menu after that. It wasn't as complicated as I previously thought. I found out I can watch any (ANY!) of my favorite "Curb Your Enthusiasm" programs any time I want. What a great idea!

Angels Among Us

I came across this picture today and felt comforted by it. May they rest in peace.

Immigration

Lately immigration laws have been in the news and people-- especially those from the southwest -- have been talking about it. My friend Linda recently wrote an editorial for a list serve I'm on. She's black and has a unique perspective. I encourage you to read it:
http://www.saywhatclub.com/newsletter/sept07/coedspeaks.html

We had a friend here last July who mentioned it over dinner one evening. I honestly have to say I had not given it much thought, as this part of the country isn't flooded with Mexicans -- who are the main focus of illegal immigration-- but I know it's a big issue in the southwest. Every time we see someone from that part of the country they bring it up. Our dinner friend, Phil, lives in Vegas, and Linda lives also lives in the southwest.

Of the Mexicans I personally know, they all speak English and work. I have no problem with them. The eastern half of Washington state is full of fruit orchards. We all know who picks the fruit here. I don't know where we would be without Mexicans picking fruit. It isn't the kind of work white people care to do mainly because it doesn't even pay minimum wage. We like to pretend they're all here legally, but most of us know they wouldn't pick fruit if they were, and we turn a blind eye. This arrangement has worked pretty well for us for the past 100 years.

"So -- did ALL of your ancestors immigrate here legally?" Phil asked that evening last July- - "because mine didn't." Then he went on to explain how his Italian grandparents worried they might be detained at Ellis Island after a cousin had been held in quarantine for weeks. They detoured through Canada instead, eventually making their way south and settling in northern Idaho.

I gulped. My mother's family tree is littered with wife-deserters, abandoned orphans, and bastard children who grew up to be bootleggers with suspected connections to the Mafia-- a band of ne'er do wells. They were the kind of people whose roots were hard to trace, though God knows I've tried. Most likely they were running from the law back home somewhere in northern Europe. They all had pale skin and bright blue eyes. What I DO know is this; Like Phil's family, a couple of them drifted south from somewhere over the Canadian border in the late 1800s/early 1900s. I'm not even positive they officially became citizens. We don't know where the rest of them came from or how they got in to Amerika. We don't want to know.

My father's roots go way back on American soil. I've traced them to the 1500's. Though we are white as snow now, three hundred years ago my ancestors were dubiously listed as "guides" in Cadillac's first settlement venture from Montreal to Detroit. In genealogy studies, I have learned the word "guide" was French code for Indian. Because the French in the Old World regarded Indians as little more than savage animals, those in the New World thought it prudent not to inform business associates in France just exactly how much they were hobnobbing with their new friends, the Indians. In truth, the possibility of Cadillac's party making it on foot through the treacherous woods between Montreal and "Detroit" without an Indian guide would have been near impossible. "Detroit" was already a thriving Indian (more precisely Wendat and Chippewa) trading post before Cadillac decided to "settle" it. My ancestors were already living there.

Slave history is well known in America. Linda brought this up in her passionate article. Indian history of the Midwestern US before the Louisiana Purchase is less well known. Why? Because that part of the country wasn't a part of America then, therefore it wasn't a part of American history. American schools act as if the Midwest didn't exist at all until Thomas Jefferson bought it from France in 1803. Then voila'! Suddenly a new piece of land appears out of nowhere and is added onto America like a huge puzzle piece. I was astounded to learn then, that Samuel de Champlain-- a Frenchmen-- started converting Hurons as early as 1609, just two years after the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth. For two hundred years, while the British battled Indians, the French converted them, mated with them and bought beaver pelts from them in "New France" the stomping grounds of my Wendat (Huron) ancestors.

It's the same with most of the southwest. Texas doesn't pop up in our history books until we're suddenly fighting at the Alamo-- most confusing since no mention has been made of Texas prior to that. The great American map gets a new puzzle piece of "untamed" land. But the truth is Spain was all over the the American Southwest as early as the 1500s, converting the people and building little mission towns.

So let's back up a bit to my ancestors-- Since the French did not come to the New World to colonize, there was a shortage of white French females to populate Cadillac's Detroit. However, Cadillac had the perfect solution-- A) an abundance of single young French males in the backwoods + B) an abundance of single young female Hurons in the backwoods = Detroit from 1702 until about the mid 1800s when the Erie canal was built. The reason there were so many single Huron females was because most of the males had been wiped out by other hostile tribes in the area. Again-- this was a wonderfully suitable business arrangement for the both the French and the Indians. Young French trappers would no longer be lonely in the backwoods. They would spend more time trapping, while their self-sufficient Huron wives would be perfectly content with their new husbands in their homes at the trading post. Business thrived. Everyone got rich.

The French had a word for the peoples who lived in Detroit and all along the Mississippi River on down to Louisiana. Metis. The literal translation meant "mixed"-- as in a mixture of French and Indian. The English had a similar word for the same people-- "half-breed." Not so nice.

I am blond, and look more Scandinavian than Indian, but it still shows up in my gene pool occasionally. My oldest son is dark, tans well and has distinctly Indian features, which you can see if you know it's there. I love this about him. My daughter, too, looked Indian at birth, then she whitened up. After the English started moving into the Detroit area, it was no longer OK to be a "half-breed." In my grandpa's time, the fact that our family was part Indian was kept a secret. They passed for white, but you could still see the 'Indian in the woodpile' as my great-aunts used to put it. What does any of this have to do with my feelings about immigration? I'm getting to that. . .

It seems unfair to me to make such stringent requirements for Mexicans coming to America when it's so easy for Canadians to come here. I can hardly judge Mexicans when some of my own ancestors came here illegally-- and probably should have been kicked out.

Additionally, some (a LOT) of my ancestors were here first. Then America came to us. This is exactly how it was for many of the Mexican people living in the Southwest. Also, for close to three hundred years before it became an English speaking country, the Spanish language was spoken here. We're denying our American heritage when we pretend entire pieces of the continent didn't exist until they became part of America. The land was there, the people were there, villages were there, a different culture was there. Mexicans are very much a part of who/what America is today, whether we like it or not.

I can't help thinking that the immigration issue is just a new form of racism popping up. If Mexicans were more white looking, if they were more Spanish looking, I wonder if some people would be as concerned about them coming here illegally. But most of them look like Indians. We are NOT a "white" country. We never have been. From about 20,000 years ago, there has existed a very large indigenous group of people in N. America who were non-white. They have every right to be here.

We don't want them to come through our borders illegally, though. What's past is past, and it's time to think of our futures together. We need to help them so they will have more employment opportunities in Mexico. Then they won't need to come here. When they do come here, we need to strengthen our support system so they can assimilate quickly. We need to eliminate "picking" jobs and prosecute businesses that do not pay a minimum wage if we really don't want them here. No double standards. Is this what we really want? Because if not, then we shouldn't be creating more expensive laws to enforce. If we are the Christian country we claim to be, helping them seems to be the most compassionate way of dealing with the immigration problem.

LeRoy Colombo Saved 907 Lives!

It's Deaf Hero Day!! Since summer is almost over, I chose LeRoy Colombo, the greatest lifeguard who ever lived! He was born Dec. 23, 1905 in Galveston, TX and died July 12, 1974. Sorry I don't have an actual picture of him, though I found one in a book. I have looked and looked on-line. I found the coolest thing though. There's a traveling deaf wax museum with deaf heroes and he's one of them. http://tinyurl.com/ywksr2 When Colombo was seven, he became sick with spinal meningitis and nearly died.

Afterwards, he was left paralyzed and deaf. His older brothers helped him to regain some feeling in his legs by playing with him in an alley near his home. Soon he discovered swimming. He felt more comfortable in the water than on land, so he began spending all his free time swimming. Eventually he started winning swim competitions and marathons. He qualified as a lifeguard by swimming continuously for three hours.

He worked for forty years as a lifeguard and continued to swim in competitions throughout his life, for which he received numerous awards. But the most important thing he accomplished by far was to save a whopping 907 lives! He was formerly listed in the Guinness Book of World Records when lifeguarding was a category.

This is a sunset on Galveston Bay where he swam.

My first meme

This is my first meme, so please forgive if I have not followed meme protocol. It came from

Bookish Kitty

1. If you could have super powers what would they be and what would you do with them? (Please feel free to be selfish, you do not have to save the world!)

Well I suppose since my hearing is so bad, I would LOVE to have xray eyes. HA! I fooled you didn't I? You thought I was going to say better hearing. Who would want super-duper hearing? You'd never get any rest at night. I have always wanted the ability to become invisible. This, of course, I would only use to spy on my children--especially my eighteen year old son who I know speeds around in his car a little too much. Flying would be nice. I'm afraid of heights. I would never have to worry about that again. OK-- after thinking about it some--I have never known of a super hero with this power- but I would like to have super hearing, and be able to turn it off at night. My final power? I would like the ability to change rocks into gold. And I really WOULD give a lot of it away!!

2. Were you to find yourself stranded on an island with a CD player...it could happen...what would your top 10 bloggers island discs be?

This is a tough one. I do not hear so well and rarely listen to CD's anymore, but I can still hear some music, though it's mostly hit and miss.

I like--
B B King
Ray Charles
Belly Dancing Djembe Music CD from my dance class-- do not know the name of it, but I might as well have something to dance to, and the djembes are cool!
Lonesome Dove Soundtrack-- the French Horn on this is haunting, and I can HEAR it!
Perfect Storm Soundtrack--Great book!

Now I'll list some music I used to listen to that I would like to hear again perfectly, that I still try to listen to sometimes-- that I could listen to with super-power hearing :) . . . Got that?

Brandenburg Concertos-- My favorite of all time piece of music-- I will hear it again in heaven
Appalachian Spring-Rodeo-Billy The Kid-Fanfare for the Common Man~Aaron Copeland
Anything by Mozart
Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks
Beatles--Hey? How did they get on this list??


3. If you were a smell what would it be?

The first day of fall.

What bird would you most like to be?

Sandpiper. Aren't they cute? And they have lots and lots of friends and they spend their entire lives on the beach!

5. If you were a bird who's head would you poo on?

I don't think Sandpipers poo on heads.

6. Are there any foods that your body craves?

Coffee-- but that's a beverage I guess. So I'll say nuts. I LOVE them. All kinds.

7. What's your favourite time of year?

I love early Fall best. I think I like all the seasonal transitions best--early Fall, early Winter, early Spring, early Summer-- but early Fall is the very best time of all.

8. What's your favourite time of day?

Night-- I have always been a night owl.

9. If a rest is as good as a change which would you choose?

I believe in moderation. Change keeps the mind sharp, but too much can be exhausting. Right now I feel ready for a change-- which is a good thing-- because I'm entering a new phase in my life-- the empty nest phase. OR. . . I SHOULD be emptying the nest-- but I'm not really-- because my 25-year-old son moved back home. But someday, I'll have an empty nest. . .right?. . .RIGHT??

10. If you could have a dinner party and invite any 5 people from the past or present who would they be? (Living or deceased.)

This is a tough one because of my hearing loss. I would like to have Juliett Gordon Low because I've always admired her as a late-deafened woman who got things done. Also-- she sounds like a kick in the pants-- a real livewire to have around; Bill Cosby-- he's funny and wise; The Dalai Lama--my hero; James Van Praagh-- might be interesting to see what spiritual guests, if any, he would attract during dinner; and my husband-- because he's my best friend and I absolutely would want to discuss this special night with him afterwards!

If you are reading this and have not already participated, consider yourself tagged! I look forward to reading your responses.

Second Class Citizen

This happened awhile ago, but I still laugh whenever I think about it. One time Meg and I went to a Thai place for lunch. (The picture above has nothing to do with this story, except that it's of a Thai waitress I got off the net.)

Meg had been mentoring me in ASL and our routine was to eat lunch in restaurants with our hearing aids removed. Because I needed the ASL practice, she normally did the oral speaking when the wait staff came around for our orders. I would point to my order. If the waitress had a question I couldn't lip read or she didn't face me, Meg would sign it to me and I would sign back. Thus, waiters and waitresses sometimes got the impression I was not oral.

I was not doing this to pull the wool over any one's eyes. I want to make it clear I wasn't asking for special favors or accommodations or even sympathy in these restaurants. My decision not to speak was purely motivated by the need for extra ASL practice. The more I could cram into our lunch sessions, the better. Also, I found it relaxing to be able to eat in restaurants without my hearing aids; to be able to communicate freely in ASL without having to worry about hearing. As a late-deafened person, I cannot begin to describe the excitement I felt by doing something as simple as going out to eat in a busy restaurant at lunchtime without the usual encumbrance of worrying about how I was going to HEAR the conversation.

So as usual-- when the waitress came around Meg ordered orally, and I pointed. The waitress had a question about my order and directed it to "oral" Meg, who signed to me, then I signed back, and Meg answered the waitress' questions for me. Soon our meal was brought around and we ate and signed happily for about an hour. Then, I became full and decided I might need a box to take the rest home. I signed, "FULL! Need box." Meg, who eats like a bird, also had a fully loaded plate of food. So Meg waved the waitress over and asked for our meals to be boxed up. Then we began signing about where we wanted to shop after the restaurant. . .

Next thing I know the waitress came over to the table and started boxing up my food, as if I were a child. This is new, I thought. Normally they just drop off the boxes and leave. I started to grab the spoon, but she kindly waved me off and indicated she wished to box it for me, so I let her. And sat there with an awkward stupid grin on my face. Meanwhile Meg waited and waited with her empty box-- thinking the waitress would offer the same service to her. After all, she had more food left on her plate than me. Next, the waitress closed the lid of my box carefully, placed it neatly into a plastic bag, then knotted it tightly -- all the while smiling in such a kind, benevolent way. Then she bowed slightly, turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Meg gaping over a humongous plateful of Thai food and an empty box.

Imagine Meg's surprise.

I signed that maybe the waitress thought she was more capable because she was the "oral" one. We shrugged it off and laughed. But I was honestly shocked. I never realized some people treated the deaf differently, like invalids. This was my first clear experience of audism. Though it wasn't altogether negative, I can only say that was because I tried to justify the waitress' actions by telling myself she meant well. If I really weren't oral, it probably would have hurt deeply that she had bagged my food as if I were a helpless five-year-old.

She did it again

Yesterday a deaf friend friend came over to pick up my son's waterbed because he's moving away in less than two weeks. We made deal--my son and I. When he moves out the waterbed goes. He isn't sad about it. He hasn't been sleeping in it all summer. Somewhere he read that waterbeds stunt your growth. An inch shy of six feet, maybe he's anxious to grow a couple more centimeters, I don't know. Eighteen-year-olds aren't big on communication. He's been trading off sleeping on the futon in the den and the family room sofa all summer. I have mentioned my friend (I'll call her Meg) in another blog-- "My Friend's Hands"

She drove a borrowed truck over, then we deconstructed the bed for her, so she could see how it would go back together. My husband drew pictures on the inside of boards to identify each piece and its relative position on the bed. I know she won't have any trouble. One thing about people born deaf is they seem to have a super spatial IQ. Those I've met-- admittedly I have personally met maybe only 30?-- are natural artists, engineers and tinkerers. Meg has a degree in computer science. Stupid she is not.

So during the deconstructing, panting, dusting, sneezing, moving, sweating, more panting, labeling, packing in the truck process-- my son mumbled he had lost his keys. "Mmmmpf had them, and felt bad about mmmpf, grmmfpt, mmmfpt. He had mmpfg, grmmmfp mmmmmfg, but couldnt mmmfg, mmmmmfg. . . .

"What?" I asked.

He yelled his story over again, but he wasn't in a position for me to see his mouth. I'm not sure I've mentioned my husband has also lost some hearing loss due to Menieres. So they began yelling back and forth, to the point even a DEAF person could hear them.

Oh WAIT! I AM DEAF, and I couldn't understand a word they were saying. But I'm sure the entire neighborhood heard them. With my hearing, because I hear low tones, I am aware of volume. The problem is speech doesn't make any sense, because my speech frequencies are all but gone.

"What? I asked again.

Luckily Meg was there, and she waved my attention. This is how deaf people do it instead of shouting. Yelling and shouting is an idiotic way of getting some one's attention when they can't hear. Think about it. Then she started signing a few words here and there to fill in the blanks for me.

Ah--I got it! He didn't have a spare key to his trunk. He would have to go to a locksmith and it would cost a lot of money to have a mold made for a trunk key. He can't get his trunk open at all because the inside latch is broken. (God knows what's inside the trunk-- I hope no rotting food.) His friend is sorry for losing the key. . .

We had lunch together, then she emailed when she got home with the bed. It would be nice to have another deaf person in the house, I was thinking. Two lip-readers are better than one, and we could sign to each other all the time. Or maybe I just need a live in interpreter so I can communicate with my family, since they can't/won't/forget to sign?

I have big plans for this empty room.

Notes about the painting above--

Born in Basaluzzo (Alessandria) in 1950, she studied in Rome at the "Accademia delle Belle Arti" (arts academy), where she followed post-diploma courses in set design. Currently, she is an Art Education instructor at a middle school in Rome.
She collaborates, as a set designer, with the deaf theater group "Laboratorio Zero" and with another theater company, "A. Bottazzi" in Basaluzzo.
In addition, she does graphic art work in the field of advertising, humorous drawings about the deaf world, and murals.
She has had a one-man show in Basaluzzo in 1983, and has participated in numerous regional and national group shows, receiving prizes and recognition.

Silence
This painting was inspired by a meeting with a deaf American poet, Clayton Valli, in Rome. It was used as the cover for a videotape containing Valli's poems.
The subtitle that the artist has selected conveys a clear message: "The silent language of the hands, in the harmony of Mother Nature."
Inspired by the creative expression in Valli's signed poems, Zuccotti's work vividly depicts a "creativity" concept that is neither noise nor sound, but is peace, fertile silence, nature that speaks, and hands that communicate.

http://tinyurl.com/2y94cz

Juliette Gordon Low (Miss Daisy)

Today is deaf hero day!! I have chosen Juliette Gordon Low as one of my favorite of all time deaf/ hard-of-hearing people. As a former Girl Scout leader, I know her bio well. She was born in Savannah, Georgia in 1860. An early feminist, she shunned boring needlework for sports. At that time southern belles were not permitted to run or exert themselves. One time when she was a teenager, she gathered a group of girls in a men's gym, locked the doors, then had them all strip to their bloomers, so they could play basketball in secret.



As a young adult she suffered chronic ear infections that made her deaf in one ear after a doctor poured a nitrate solution into her ear canal to heal the infection. Instead, it burned out her eardrum. When she was married in 1886, a piece of rice lodged in the other ear, became infected, then pierced her eardrum, and deafened her on that side too.



Later in life she befriended Lord Baden-Powell in England and his sister Agnes, who developed Boy Scouts and Girl Guides. Juliette liked the idea so much that she started Girl Scouting in America. To read more about Juliette Gordon Low, go to this link--


http://www.girlscouts.org/who_we_are/history/low_biography/ Today Girl Scouting places an emphasis on diversity awareness, tolerance, and equal opportunity, no doubt because of the early influence of their deaf founder. Juliette Gordon Low was an inspiration to woman and to late-deafened people.

You still hang out with HER?

Recently I was having a conversation with someone when I mentioned that my husband and I had spent an enjoyable evening having dinner with an old high school friend and her wife a couple weeks ago. Her response-- "You're still friends with THEM?!"


"Yeeess-- WHY?" I asked. I knew what she was getting at. They're lesbians.


And they are perfectly nice people. They don't have any offensive habits. They don't swear. They don't drink. They aren't obnoxious. They don't smell bad. They don't gossip. We have the same political views, but we don't talk politics much. They don't spend the entire evening bragging about themselves or their kids. In fact they're quite entertaining. They tell stories about their pets mostly. They have interesting hobbies. They collect rocks, antique bottles and teapots. One of them knits beautifully, and they like to put puzzles together. They always have a puzzle going on their kitchen table, and they bring it out again after dinner is cleared. So we sit around putting a puzzle together, drinking coffee and talking 'til it's time to go home. It's nice. Above all, they're respectful of my vegetarian diet and sympathetic of my hearing problems. Really-- they're very considerate, kind-hearted, fun people. I LIKE them. "Why shouldn't we be friends?" I asked.



"I don't have a problem with gays," she said, "I just don't know why they have to be so open about it." Welllll, in my opinion she DOES have a problem with gays if that's how she feels. I know exactly why they have to be open about it. I know it sounds weird, but as someone who is late-deafened, who doesn't fit into the mainstream, being open about being different is something I understand only too well.



When you are "different," you quickly learn there are two kinds of people in the world-- the tolerant types and the intolerant types. Being open about who you are helps to identify the intolerant ones, so you won't waste much time developing feelings for them.



Since my deafness isn't readily apparent, I like to get the shock of it out of the way immediately after an introduction. It's almost always the first thing I tell someone about myself.


Likewise, my lesbian friend dresses like a man and wears her hair shorter than my husband's--on purpose-- so people will know something's up with her sexuality right off the bat. It's hurtful when someone you've grown to like dumps you because they can't handle who you are. When you aren't part of the mainstream it's best to put it out there on the table right at the beginning--the sooner the better. This is who I am, take it or leave it. This is why I'm so "open" about my deafness --telling people immediately, and this is why SHE is so open about her sexuality to the point of dressing like a man.


Sometimes I wish there were deaf dress codes or something, so I wouldn't have to announce it all the time. Blind people have their white canes. Others have their wheelchairs and walkers. Deaf people have no official mark of identification. It would be nice if we did, though I can't think what that might be. So-- I have been wondering what could be an appropriate way of identifying deaf people-- Mohawk? No. Tattoo on forehead? No. Fake clown ears? No. Then I thought of it. Deaf people often use their hands to communicate. We could all wear the same distinctive, officially recognized "deaf" ring on the middle digit of our right hands. (I'm just throwing this out there, it doesn't have to be the middle-finger of the right hand, but the middle finger is a good finger for rings.) I like the idea of a gold or silver ILY sign, but there would have to be some kind of official insignia to go along with it to differentiate our deaf rings from fakes.

What do you think of this idea?