tunnel of deaf

Up in the Cascade mountains there is a bike path with a crumbling old two-mile tunnel called the Iron Horse Trail. Even on the most beautiful summer day, the tunnel is cold, dank and pitch-black. Once inside if you hold your hand in front of your face you can’t see it. After riding about the three-quarters of the way through, just when you lose all hope of ever seeing light again, a teeny bright pin-prick twinkles up ahead. As you ride towards it, blackness gives way to gray, the dimness of the tunnel fades, and soon you’re out in the warmth of daylight again. The views on the other side of the tunnel are glorious!! Much more magnificent than when you entered. Here, you’re on top of a mountain clearing looking out over miles and miles of the Cascade Range. Just you and the mountains. It seems like you‘ve gone through hell to get there.

Few people ever make that trip.

Many times I’ve thought of that Iron Horse Trail as a metaphor for my deaf journey. I haven’t been on it since my son was young enough to enjoy biking with me. The last time we were up there, we spent an afternoon riding down the mountainside with some friends, and it was one of those hot summer golden days of motherhood where everything seemed just right with the world. Before he became a rebellious teen. Before our friends were transferred across the country to Florida. Before my hearing took yet another nose-dive.

Late-deafness brings a lot of garbage and grief with it. Many of us spend years wandering around inside a dark tunnel. Few of us enter willingly. I say “few” because there actually are those who destroy their hearing on purpose, but that’s another story for another day. The rest of us end up in the deaf tunnel kicking and screaming. We’re never prepared. We don’t have flashlights or sweaters. We have no idea how we got there or what’s up ahead. We’re cut off from our daily activities, friends, and we feel lost. Trapped.

Eight years ago that’s where I was. And it was there, deep inside the “deaf” tunnel I made some of the best friends I’ve ever met through an on-line support group called the Say What Club. We leaned on each other for help until we made it out the other side. They taught me how to deal with my deafness, and eventually I was able to help others. I’m still learning. Life goes on and it’s good on this other side of the tunnel-- the deaf side.

These past few weeks I’ve been working on a blog so my deaf/ hard-of-hearing friends and I could share our late-deaf/hard-of-hearing experiences with others. I am hoping you will enjoy reading their entries and possibly learn something about late-deafness. Our hope at the Say What Club is to help those struggling with hearing loss. Those who are new to hearing loss or those just wanting some support. We hope to shed light on the everyday challenges people new to hearing loss face and maybe help with coping strategies so we all can get on with living full productive lives. We don’t have all the answers, but we listen. Please stop by.

Say What Club Blog

(Cascades by NateFish3000, Snoqualmie Tunnel above by Ray Fischer)

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!

My Favorite Place

I'm just playin' around with my pictures. This is a collage of one of my favorite places. Long Beach, WA. We often go there. The little red and yellow kite is my delta, and the rainbow colored one is a Chinese Dragon kite. You can't see the head very well, but it has a cow jumping over the moon. We also have a stunt kite my husband likes to play with, and another purple and pink delta, as well as an assortment of portable folding children's kites and what not. The little building with the flag is a place to buy fish and fresh cranberries. Weird combination, I know. . . but well, it's on the ocean and also home to a very large cranberry bog. There is some good hiking and birding out at Ledbetter State Park, which is at the very tip of the Long Beach peninsula. You cannot see them very well, but on the far right second from the top just below where I am holding a kite is a picture of a bunch of gulls. My husband was watching for a rare type one day up at Ledbetter. We usually buy fish on the way to the beach. Clams have been a tradition. Though I don't usually eat meat, I will occasionally eat a clam, because it doesn't seem like it has a brain. I have been dreaming of the beach now that Christmas is over and the New Year is beginning. Long Beach has a kite festival every August that draws people from all over the world.

A Question About Blackberries

Since a thief took my Sidekick, I will need to replace it. I might not get a Sidekick this time, so I am hoping for advice on what to get.

If you own a Blackberry, please let me know which type you have, what features you like, and also why you like these features. I would really appreciate this information.

Later, if enough of you respond, I'll publish a blog on what hard-of-hearing, deaf and Deaf people like the most, what is most popular, what features seem to be the most popular and so on--but only if enough of you respond.

Also when you respond-- if you could say whether you are hard-of-hearing, deaf, or Deaf and whether you talk with the phone, or only text, or use a loop or whatever. That makes a difference. If you don't want me to publish your response, just say so, and I won't.

Thanks!

Robbed on Christmas Eve

We were robbed on Christmas Eve. The thing that bothers me most is my husband and I have been trying to save money, so we didn't buy each other anything for Christmas this year. We only bought gifts for other people. (sigh) It seems like whenever we try to get ahead, we end up a few steps behind. I hope the people who stole our stuff really needed it.

I can understand stealing the two brand new winter coats from my trunk. Brand new too! $300.00. I was going to take them back. I couldn't decide, then in the meantime my mother-in-law bought a new coat for our son. I would have liked to think a homeless person needed coats because it was cold. A homeless person could use a coat since it has been snowing and so cold here, but I'm having a much harder time picturing a homeless person making use of my son's snowboarding gear that was also in the trunk -- valued at over $500.00. Luckily the board itself was in the garage. Then there was the bag with a really nice pair of curtain scarves. Do desperate homeless people need sheer window curtain scarves? I had been planning to take those back to Linens N Things because I changed my mind about the color. Another $150.00 or so. Several CD's were taken. $100.00. And finally, my Sidekick. $300.00. We've cancelled the plan, of course. Our homeowners insurance covers theft, but there's a deductible.

I've been wondering what goes through someone's mind while they're stealing from people on Christmas Eve who are sitting in church. Then today, my son said the sweetest thing. "Mom--don't worry. Whoever did this is living a crappy life." And he's right.

This is just a small blip. It is inconvenient and aggravating, but I still have my home and car and job. I can afford an abundance of food on the table all year long. I still have warm clothes to wear. I have so many clothes I'm trying to get rid of them. I have way too much stuff. I am lucky with family. Unlike other people who can't stand their in-laws, I love mine, and my parents too. I am fortunate to be surrounded by so much love-- an abundance of family and friends who are like family. My son is right. Whoever robbed us is having a crappy life, otherwise he or she would have been enjoying themselves with people on Christmas Eve-- like I was. (The above is my husband and his dad being silly. He stuffed balloons in a pair of pantyhose and put them on his head. Don't ask. . .)

Pajama Epiphany

I had an epiphany last night while sleeping. I must be kind of dim because for days I've been wondering what "deficit thinking" REALLY means. It seems I've read at least twenty-five different definitions by now and I wasn't getting it.

Earlier in the evening I had my Kundalini meditation session with Subhan-- which was was wild, but enlightening. Subhan says it all comes together when you reach three points: 1) self-awareness 2) self-acceptance and 3) relaxation.

I don't know about others, but I have the most problem with number two. I'm old enough to be aware of my strengths and weaknesses, and I can relax, but dang-- I still have such a hard time accepting my faults. In fact sometimes I even dwell on them, which can lead to self loathing.

Most the time I do not mind deafness. When I'm alone or with other deaf/HH people, it's no problem at all. But all those awkward times, like today when a lady, cursed, sighed, rolled her eyes and yelled at me because she had to repeat a question--that kind of event gets buried, then comes back as a headache, or keeps me awake at night. It hurts. It's not my fault.

On the one hand the reasonable side of me knows that woman had a problem. On the other hand, because I was working, I had to smile and remain calm and be nice to her. I would have liked to ask her if she thought I purposely developed a hearing loss specifically to annoy her at the library. I mean-- my God if she thinks SHE has it rough having to repeat three times, how does she think I feel having to ask for repeats?!?!?!?

So self-acceptance can be a hard one. Last night I worked on that while meditating and I guess it must have been rolling around in my mind while I was sleeping because suddenly I woke up in the middle of the night with the answer.

Deficit thinking is when you don't accept yourself as a deaf or Deaf person. (I'm applying this to d/Deafness, but I think it can apply to anyone.) It's when you don't accept yourself. When you don't fully accept yourself, and I mean LOVE yourself because that's what self-acceptance is, then you cannot accept others for who THEY are. In order to fully love others, you must accept yourself with all your own flaws, so you can look past other people's flaws.

In order to accept others, to be open to new ideas, technology, culturally different people, we must first become comfortable with who WE are. I hope we can all help each other become comfortable.

(top photo from flickr chicagokristi, side photo-petersblog.org/images/self-love.jpg)

Cochlear Implants for Babies??

So I've been reading Mishkazena's blog, and as usual the issue of Cochlear Implants for babies has came up again. Some feel AGBell, Cochlear Implants for babies, and a few oral deaf people who blog about the positive benefits of oral education was the root cause of all this fuss-- which finally led to John's deficit thinking/censorship outburst. Read his blog here if you haven't already. John's blog (Since the time I originally posted my blog, John has recanted. Now he says he only meant deficit thinking should be censored, not certain individuals. See Johns New Blog.) At this point I'm super confused. I don't know how you can censor thoughts. I don't mean this sarcastically. I understand there's a disconnect because John's second language is English and I'm just now learning ASL. We're all supposed to be part of the same community but we don't even speak the same language.

As a late-deafened person. I often feel like I have one foot in deaf world and one in hearing. While my world isn't always totally silent, I think I understand the daily ins and outs of deafness. To give an example, recently my kids were talking about the sound squirrels made.

"They make sounds?" I asked. I didn't know. I grew up hearing. I should have known all the animal sounds by age fifty. But life is a learning experience and I have missed a few things along the way. We don't know exactly when my hearing loss began, so maybe I missed more things than I realized. I had never heard squirrel chatter before, and no one ever mentioned it. That I'm fifty, and only just now learned animals in my yard make a noise I didn't know about floored me!! That's what deafness is all about. For me. . . Deafhood is something different for others.


Similar incidents have happened over the years. On camping trips I've learned we were near rivers or lakes in the morning. Everyone else heard it when we pitched our tent at night, but they never said anything. People knew there were beehives in places I didn't know about because they could hear the hum. My deaf world is full of wonder. There's surprise when I'm on a hike and round a bend to find a waterfall. The hearing know it's there all along because they can hear it for miles.

BUT because they are too distracted with their ears, hurrying to get to a river or an ocean they hear, sometimes they miss other things I see with my eyes. I stop and marvel at dew on a spiderweb, an unusual red bug, a pretty rock, and lag behind hearing hikers because I'm in awe of the beauty around me. Colors seem more brilliant than they did when I could hear well. Movement catches my eye with its rhythm. Sunlight and shadows wink through spaces to catch my attention. Maybe that's how I enjoy Deafhood? I don't know. That's when I enjoy deafness.

I have been deaf to many sounds most my life, if not speech-- and now I'm deaf to most speech too. I still understand the hearing world because I remember hearing. I remember the soft and tinkly sound of flowing water in the distance. I also remember the sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet. I barely remember cricket chirps. I haven't heard a mosquito since I was a very little girl, but I remember they made a high-pitched sound when they flew. So I know what it's like to be distracted by sounds. Hearing is still my "culture" even though I don't quite fit in. I have missed out on a lot of stuff after I started to lose my hearing.

I am not hearing or Deaf. I am deaf. In my perfect world everyone would sign and talk at the same time. The hearing would caption their videos and the Deaf would caption their vlogs. I would not care about sentence structure or spelling because I appreciate the time it takes to caption. I realize not everyone's first language is English. I would not care about perfect ASL because I realize not everyone's first language is ASL.

So what does any of this have to do with Mishkazena's blog??? And implants for babies??? I keep wondering about the subject of cochlear implants on babies. Have any of you personally known a baby who was implanted? I haven't. I have read the occasional news accounts of the rare implant that got infected. Circumcisions also get infected sometimes, and they are painful. Babies are given nothing to deaden the pain. I think it's a brutal practice. (If you want to read a horror story, there was a baby boy many years ago whose penis accidentally got lopped off during circumcision. A psychologist decided it would be best to turn him into a girl after that. Very, very sad, but true story!!) As Nature Made Him

I have seen videos of people who were implanted young and they seem to have better speech than people my age who grew up with hearing aids. Since I'm deaf I have asked others to evaluate their speech too. The deaf speech doesn't seem to be present. This is really great I think, because unclear "deaf speech" can be considered somewhat of an obstacle in the hearing world and may hinder one's job propects!

The reason hearing parents may choose to implant their kids is because infant language development begins early. National Institutes of Health Language Development A lag in language development can impact a child's ability to read and learn later on. We all know how important education is, especially in today's world. I honestly don't think believe cochlear implants are about "hearing supremacy" or a desire to wipe out Deaf people. They are about opportunities. I have met a few implanted late-deafened adults who can talk on telephones and I'm impressed with their hearing capabilities. I don't know if they can hear mosquitos or squirrels. Probably not. But I knew them before their implants and after, so I was able to make a comparison. The differences astounded me!!

If I had a Deaf child I'm not sure what I would do about a cochlear implant, but I AM sure the child would be taught ASL. I am not an expert on any of this. I am only a late-deafened mom who has raised three kids, and this is only my opinion based on how I see it. There are risks with the cochlear implant--yes. But there may also be many opportunities. Each parent needs to weigh the risks and oppportunities against the child's individual needs, whether the child has other challenges, and how healthy the child is. Parents need to consider their own lifestyles, their financial resources, and family support systems. There are so many factors to consider before a major surgery. Perhaps the some parents feel pressured into implanting their child and cave. It's intensely personal and we shouldn't judge them after the decision has been made. They only do their best given the information they've received.

I wish I learned ASL earlier. I wish my family knew ASL and that I had more friends who knew ASL. When you have a cochlear implant you are still deaf in a lot of situations, and the processor has to come off. Or it malfunctions. Or the batteries need to be changed. ASL makes so much sense for ALL deaf/Deaf people, especially children.

I hope we can all remain open, as I believe hearing parents need support from the Deaf community more than ever before-- and it needs to be positive support if we want them to listen.

Deficit Thinking = /< Surplus Disregard?

Gosh I'm kinda new. I just started reading and posting to Deafread the past couple months or so. I was shocked by John's message about "deficit thinkers." Though John himself didn't name names, a few of the commenters to his blog did-- and the names that most frequently came up were McConnell, Paotie, "and their strange friends" including Karen and Brian Mayes. Because I frequently comment on both McConnell's and Paotie's blogs, I wondered if I was included among the list of "strange friends."

This surprised me a little bit because I've fiercely butt heads with both Paotie and McConnell in the past. But I guess because I'm deaf, not Deaf, you all might as well lump me in with them -- and the Mayes.

Just to keep the record straight though, I have sided with John Egbert in the past too. I put in a plug for his book on my site as well. I often agree with him, but not this time. I like a good discussion and I think Paotie and Mike are great at generating discussion, even though some of their remarks are often inflammatory. They DO get us talking about hot issues we need to question, such as the rift between the deaf and the Deaf. It's painful to look at the truth sometimes.

The comments about the Mayes saddened me. That any of you would even consider censoring Mike or Paotie's blogs and say the things you said about the Mayes convinced me we have much work to do before the D/deaf can call themselves a "community."

If not for Deaf Edge's blog and the overwhelming positive comments there, I would have seriously considered moving on. I was beginning to wonder if deaf people were welcome here. Thanks to all of you who commented in DE's blog. You've given me hope.

Peace. . .

(Also-- I wanted to explain why I haven't been doing deaf heroes the past couple weeks. I turned my library book in. It was time. As luck would have it, the book belonged to another branch, so I sent it back and reordered it. Guess what? It's lost in the system somewhere. I may ask for it for Christmas.)

Sitting in the dark--- thinking

(Before I begin, I should probably inform you all I've changed my address. If you're a regular reader, it's now djembeslappin.blogspot.com)

When a friend emailed to ask if I wanted to meditate with an Indian guru I have to admit I was skeptical. The timing conflicted with my belly dancing class, but I've also had some reservations about group led meditations ever since my Lamaze classes years ago. Visions of a dark hot room with a mumbling facilitator whose lips I wouldn't be able to see in dim candlelight flashed through my mind.

Then by coincidence the storm we had last week flooded my dance instructor's apartment. She called from an emergency shelter to cancel all our classes and activities for the month. I felt badly for her, but this left a void in my Thursdays that needed to be filled. I've come to enjoy dancing each week. I love wearing a colorful coin skirt that sparkles in the light when my hips wiggle. More than that, I really NEED the female companionship.

I live in a "man house." With men. Who watch football from August through, um. . . when does it end??? ESPN is on three televisions in three rooms whenever they're home. Football season lasts for several months. Three men. One of them doesn't even live here. I'm not sure why the third TV needs to be on when he's not here, but it is-- ALWAYS! Their dinner discussion revolves around football each night, while I read a book. Sometimes they call the third one or a grandfather to chat them up about scores, while I'm virtually ignored. It's just me and the cat here taking up space. One computer must also be left on a certain sports website at all times, so they can check games that aren't televised. I have my own computer, so I won't bother their website. I must never, ever touch the MAN computer. THE website must be there at all times in case something important happens. I try to fill my nights as much as possible-- books, computer, djembe, belly-dance, ASL, work. . . (Picture above is of two of them during a Seahawks playoff game a couple years ago. They've had seasons tickets to football games since before they could talk.)

Given the choice between staying home on Thursdays or meditating in a group, the guru began to sound more appealing. I sent an email to him. "Can you accommodate me? I'm practically deaf, and I read lips." We'll see if that doesn't put him off, I thought. Almost no one willingly accommodates the deaf and this was being held in a home. It wasn't a business setting that HAD to accommodate me.

"YES-- Please come!" he wrote back.

Awww --- what the heck, I thought. If worse comes to worse, I'll close my eyes and take a nap. I enjoy my friend. We'll have a few laughs. She's always getting me into stuff like this.

So-- off we went last night. When we pulled up to his house, it appeared dark inside. I asked if she was sure he wasn't a serial killer. She wasn't too encouraging. "We'll find out!" she grinned.

Our first meditation was called a "Darkness Meditation" Whooooooooo. Sounded creepy.

We arrived early and were greeted warmly by a man with an abundance of curly gray facial hair. Reading his lips would pose a challenge. Oddly, this guy didn't look at all Indian. His eyes were bright blue. Stepping inside I picked up scents of cardamon, clove and saffron. Shoes were left at the door, then we were offered tea and honey. "Hi--I'm Kim. The one who emailed you about not being able to hear?" I reminded him.

"OH Yes!" he beamed, then grabbed my hands, "Come right in, you'll have no problem, I'll look right at you and you'll sit next to me. You'll be fine." He smiled softly and squeezed my palms ever so gently, warming them from the cool night air. Geez! He was giving off really good vibes!

I could hear the beat of New Age music playing quietly in the next room. It sounded like a djembe, the little African drum I play. We settled in to relax with our tea while others arrived.
"He doesn't look Indian" I said to my friend.

"No, I think he's Canadian." she replied.

Here's the run down of our first meditation with him. It was called a Darkness Meditation. First, he told us a little about the meditation. It was an ancient "Essene practice." I don't know what this means. Don't ask me. It's ancient. He went on to talk about how many other cultures have practiced this, including the Egyptians and Jews when Jesus was alive and so on. He described how one loses the feeling of oneness in darkness and becomes one with the universe and one with the darkness. Humans tend to fear darkness. The idea was to look into the darkness, and not be afraid. We were to welcome it. The darkness, he said, was like a womb, and we would become one with the darkness and with everything. He sat next to me and looked right at me while he spoke. I was able to lip read him because this part was all spoken in a well-lit environment. I might be wrong about this, but I think he might have trimmed his mustache and beard a little between the time I arrived and the time he started speaking.

Here's what he says about the meditation on his website. "In this meditation we use the absolute darkness of a lightproof room. The absence of light can be a primal source of relaxation and inner nourishment.
The Indian mystic Osho has said of this meditation: "In it, you can become like the ocean. You can be one with darkness. And darkness is so oceanic; nothing is so vast, nothing is so eternal."

He gave us the run down of what we were supposed to do before doing it, so that I wouldn't be lost in the dark-- literally. Next, we were led into a basement holding candles, then one by one we would blow them out until the room was completely black. Then we would meditate in total darkness with no sound with our eyes wide open for one hour. Why should your eyes stay open in darkness? Because when you close them, you see negative images of what you've been looking at earlier. You know how that is-- right? If you're looking at your computer screen right now, and you close your eyes, you'll see a rectangle of a computer screen. That's a negative image of what you just saw. So you must keep your eyes open to look into the darkness. Thus, you'll see only positive images in the darkness. Negative images are bad. Positive=good.

Admittedly it was weird looking at nothingness at first. The basement had been prepared so that it was indeed pitch black after all the candles were extinguished. An hour is a long, long time to sit and think with your eyes open in pitch black. My first thought was, "What the hell am I doing here sitting in the dark looking at nothing for an hour. I PAID for this? Sometimes I'm SUCH a sucker!!" But the longer I sat there thinking, the more peaceful I began to feel. As my thoughts started to settle, interesting things started happening. VERY interesting things. I was surprised! Amazingly the time FLEW by! It seemed like our session ended within a matter of minutes. Afterwards, I started to describe my experience to my friend and she finished my sentence. She had the very same experience. I came home feeling relaxed and energized. I'm SO glad I did it!! What a great tool for managing the stress of the holidays!

Next week, we're going to try Kundalini. I've always wanted a Kundalini experience! I hope I can manage it. I know it's not easy, but I think this guy is really GOOD!

A Christmas Meme

I haven't done a meme in ages. This one is from Bellezza, and it's a Christmas meme. I've decided to do it because I have no Christmas spirit at all this year. The truth is I'm feeling Grinchy. I thought maybe writing about Christmas might help. (sigh)

A Christmas meme:
What is your most enduring Christmas memory?

When I was a little girl there was a large store in downtown Detroit called JL Hudsons. On the top floor they had a small shopping area "just for kids" with a small kid-sized door. Inside you could buy presents for your family with your allowance money all by yourself. "Elves" would help you decide what to buy. I think they were really maybe young women or other moms because one time I shopped there I remember the elf seemed like a woman and she was much taller than me. It was really very, very special shopping downtown when I was a little girl because we dressed up in our Sunday finest to go shopping. We always did this once a year and we would drive around to look at Christmas lights on the way home. We ate in a fancy restaurant for lunch. My daddy came with us, which was unusual since he worked all the time. One year I remember going through the little door, then an elf met me and asked how much money I had to spend. I showed her the coins in my hand. Then the elf asked who I was buying a present for. It was my grandma. She asked me what my grandma liked to do. Well-- I said my grandma liked to wash dishes. So the elf recommended a fancy kitchen sponge shaped into a Christmas wreath. My goodness! Did my grandma's eyes light up when she opened my gift with the sponge inside on Christmas! She was so excited! I explained about how I bought it at JL Hudsons all by myself with my allowance money. I think I was about five years old. We washed dishes together with that sponge on Christmas. I loved my grandma so much and I had very few Christmases with her, so this is one special memory.

Do you have a favourite piece of Christmas music? I LOVE the way the Transiberian Orchestra does Pachelbels Canon in D-- what little I hear of it. Since I used to play Pachelbel's Canon on the piano I can sort of follow it. I also remember the words to the first part of the song, "Now is Born the Divine Christ Child" We used to sing it in church when I was a little girl and I really liked that one. I have to say I love most Christmas carols, and I especially love them sung by choruses in hymn style because it reminds me of Christmas Eve Candlelight service.

I am going to add a question here that wasn't on the first meme. Do you have any unusual or special family traditions? My family does. We light Advent candles each Sunday in Advent before Sunday dinner, which used to be more fun when our children were small because they would fight about who got to light the candles and who got to put them out and then before we began eating my husband would read a Christmas poem. He STILL does this every Christmas and the kids still pretend to fight over the candles, though it's just for fun now.

What makes your mouth water at Christmas time? Pecan Pie-- and my mother-in-law's Christmas cookies-- which are the best in the whole world. I usually make a prime rib, but I don't eat meat. That's mainly for my husband because he likes a prime rib on Christmas.

How soon do you put the Christmas tree up and when do you take it down? My husband comes from a Norwegian background and also his birthday is in December, so those two combined factors mean we put it up late. We haven't put it up yet, and we never take it down before New Years Eve. We DO put up a fake tree mainly because I was traumatized by the Little Fir Tree story when I was a kid. I know, I know. . .Do what you want. I got a fake, and I burn an evergreen candle for that nice smell. We used to buy live trees years ago, and then plant them in our new yard. But they're expensive. Then we moved to the woods and I have more evergreens than I know what to do with. And yes-- it's TRUE they DO grow like weeds, and I realize people kill pumpkins every year and other plant products. Yes, yes-- I know it's JUST a plant! I have my little fake tree-- leave me alone. hahaha!

I'm really glad I did this because it made me think about lots of Christmas memories. You can do it if you want, and I'll look forward to reading your answers!

Emergency Meeting for Parents of Deaf in NYC

I received this urgent message below this from a friend who works in the New York City school system. I've removed her name to protect her identity in my blog, but I felt this was important to reprint here in its entirety. I don't live in NYC. I wanted to get the word out. Isn't it just like a politician to have an important meeting like this at the last minute? If it's sparsely attended, he'll say no one cared enough about the changes he planned to make, when the reality was few people knew about the meeting. It's the holidays when people are busy too. If you live in the NYC area, please plan to go this coming Monday night if you can.

THIS SHOULD NOT BE A SURPRISE, SOONER OR LATER IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

IF YOU CARE ABOUT DEAF, HARD OF HEARING, BLIND AND THE VISUALLY IMPAIRED STUDENTS IN BOTH PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND PRIVATE SCHOOLS.....PLEASE PASS THE WORD ALONG IN TO PARENTS AND ANY DEAF GROUPS YOU KNOW. MAYOR BLOOMBERG IS ABOUT TO MAKE SOME HEFTY CHANGES THAT WILL AFFECT THE HANDICAPPED STUDENTS OF NEW YORK CITY.



LEAGUE BUZZ ALERT!

Proposed Dismantling of HES and EVS Come to a Town Hall Meeting on MONDAY DECEMBER 10th, 2007 to have your voice heard!



The League for the Hard of Hearing has just learned that discussions are underway at the NYC Department of Education regarding dismantling Hearing Education Services (HES) and Educational Vision Services (EVS) and shifting the responsibility for meeting the educational needs of deaf, hard of hearing, blind, and visually impaired children to local school districts and school principals. These school districts and school principals do not likely have either the expertise or the funds to meet the specific educational needs of these children.

The National Federation of the Blind of NYS is partnering with the Parents of Blind Children of NY to hold an open forum in the form of a Town Hall Meeting to address recent and future changes being proposed. The meeting will be on Monday, December 10th from 6-9 PM in the Selis Manor auditorium located at 135 West 23 Street between 6 and 7 Ave. They are hoping that parents of deaf and hard of hearing children attend as well, to speak to the needs of their children.

Representatives from the Department of Education and EVS will be present to speak and answer questions regarding initiatives already underway, as well as representatives of other organizations.
For more information on hearing loss in children, click here.
League for the Hard of Hearing50 BroadwayNew York, NY 10004917-305-7700 (V)917-305-7999 (TTY)www.lhh.org

Are We That Different?

Lately, I've been thinking about cultures and communities. I like being American. I like that we're a country of blended cultures.

We have many, many cultural festivals.

In Seattle, one fun celebration is the Scottish Highland Games.

There's also the Chinese New Year.











Some celebrate Norwegian Independence Day.















Others celebrate their Muckleshoot roots.









But what's great about America is you don't have to be Scottish to join in the Highland games.






You don't have to be Chinese to be in the Chinese New Year parade.










You can be a Viking on Norwegian Independence Day, even if you're really a Muckleshoot;










And you're welcome to go on Muckleshoot tribal journeys, even if you're more of a Viking.







Some families have blended backgrounds. In America you can be a Chinese, Viking, Scottish, Muckleshoot. You can join in all the parades.

Celebrating our differences unites us. We celebrate each other. Because we know that

in our hearts, we're all the same. We're just people

who help each other when times are hard.

Are deaf, Deaf and hard-of-hearing really THAT different?











Peace.

Hillis Arnold 1906- 1988

I haven't blogged about a great deaf person in a couple weeks. When I opened my book of talented deaf Americans, it was Hillis Arnold's page. I'm glad. I've looked at his sculptures and read about him a couple times now.

He was born hearing in N. Dakota, then became deaf as an infant due to spinal meningitis. As a young child he enjoyed drawing and showed some skill using colored pencils. His earliest memories of sculpting was after a rainstorm when he made animal shapes out of the mud on his farm.

He was raised orally by his parents who worked with him on vocalization exercises after doing farm chores each day. At the age of 12 his family moved to Minnesota, where he was able to attend the Minneapolis Day School for the Deaf. Then he went to public high school and graduated with honors. From there he earned a B.A. cum laude from the University of Minnesota. Then he received a full scholarship to the Minneapolis School of Fine Arts. Next, he went to the Cranbrook Academy of Art in Michigan and finally the Chicago Institute of Art.

In 1938, Arnold took a professorship at Monticello College in Illinois and remained teaching there for thirty-four years, while working on art commissions. Of teaching he said, "Communication with my students has never been a serious problem. At our first meeting I tell the students that by the end of the first or second week I will be able to read their lips if they move their lips a bit slower, and that they will understand me as they get used to my way of speaking." Arnold received many prestigious awards and recognitions for his work over the years. Most of it had religious themes and can be found in churches throughout the Midwest. Other works are in schools or downtown St. Louis.

Some of his sculptures incorporated deaf themes. "Because I am deaf, I am a better observer." he once said. One of his deaf sculptures called The Learners is a depiction of a mother practicing speech exercises with her deaf child. Another, called Deaf Given A Voice portrays an eye and an arm with moving fingers to represent how Deaf people use both their eyes and hands to communicate. Though Arnold never learned ASL or even fingerspelling, he was an advocate of Total Communication- the concept of using any and every possible means to communicate with a deaf/Deaf child.

Reading over the articles I found and writing this short sketch of his life, I got a sense that Hillis Arnold considered himself an artist first, not D/deaf first. His deafness was part of who he was, but not his main identity. It seems he was too busy teaching and creating sculptures to think much about his deaf experience. Still he acknowledged his deafness in some of his art when appropriate to do so. I like this about him.