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.
