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.
4 comments:
The painting is mesmerizing! It's so unusual, and so...shocking? It's not something I'm used to seeing, and that's a good thing. I think it brings awareness to those of us who take hearing and speaking for granted. (I'm sorry I'm like that.)
Our son's sound so similar, even though mine's sixteen...
Thanks for stopping by Bellezza! You shouldn't feel sorry for taking hearing for granted any more than I feel badly for taking the ability to walk for granted. How miserable we would all be if we all thought about what COULD go wrong all the time. I love ASL and seldom feel sad about losing my hearing anymore. It used to bother me when the future was unknown, but now that I'm nearly deaf it's much easier to manage.
I imagine E in my office gets frustrated with me sometimes when I forget she's hearing impaired. She's much like you--oral with increased hearing loss over the years. She does wear hearing aides, but they aren't perfect. I am naturally soft spoken, which I'm sure doesn't help. She's been very patient with me though. I now know to look right at her when we talk so that if she can't hear me, she can read my lips. Still, sometimes I forget. :-(
Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is why I'm blogging! :) Everyone forgets. Hearing loss has been dubbed the "invisible disability" because others cannot see how much we struggle on a day to day basis. Hearing aids are never perfect. They are to ears what walkers are to legs. Anyone who wears them are struggling in many situations. We learn to advocate for ourselves over time, but it's difficult at first-- and especially at work. Even with ADA laws, some fear losing their jobs if they're too open about how much they can't hear at work. Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment.
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