Frustration with Work

This morning I had my usual quarterly educational work meeting, which I dreaded attending mainly because I normally miss more than half what's being discussed. If it weren't for the fact I get paid to go, and my attendance looks good on my work record, I probably would have skipped it altogether. I certainly don't get much out of it. Today I nearly fell asleep even after drinking a triple-shot non-fat Venti white-chocolate peppermint mocha on the way.

I have mentioned to my manager that I need to be accommodated for these meetings. His response, "You don't get everything you ask." To my knowledge he never followed up. I was then informed my attendance at the meetings was only "optional" because they're considered educational. The person who held my position previously lived two hours and a ferry ride away, so she rarely went to these meetings. However, **everyone** else in my position does go. There are over 100 of us. The meetings gives me a chance to network with others around the county we don't get a chance to see very often.

My usual strategy is to sit up close so I can read lips and hopefully hear as much as possible. I also try to remind all the speakers that I'm deaf/HH ahead of time, where I'll be sitting and that I need to see their faces. STILL-- some of them refuse to wear a microphone, some walk around while talking, some speak in the back of the room instead of the front, some talk behind computers. . . . There never seems to be a perfect place for me to sit to be able to read their lips.

There is always a question and answer period, and unfortunately they NEVER repeat the questions. So I must guess the questions by how they're answered. It's super challenging when the answer is simply "YES-that's right!" (Example: Someone mumbles a five-minute long situational computer problem, then tells how she solved it, and finally asks if this or that was the problem. "Yes!--that's right! Next question?") What a fun game. (Yes- I'm joking!) The question/answer period can last up to a half-hour or more.

Today we split into work groups to brainstorm for awhile--in a noisy room. Think about at least 100 people broken up into over ten groups. They had all drank several cups of coffee by this time. (It was midmorning in Seattle--Starbuck's land.) And we had all been sitting way too long. Chatting in groups in stuffy, enclosed, rooms filled to the brink with hyper over-caffeinated people is not my forte.

Sometimes during our break-- when we're trying to network with each other --one of the techs loves to play a piano. He's pretty good from what I can tell. Keep in mind I used to play, but my ears are baaaaad. I find it annoying, the extra racket, the keys that sound flat or sharp that shouldn't, the shrillness of it, the way it ricochets through my head, the sound endlessly bouncing off all the walls and the floor when I'm wearing hearing aids-- I HATE it when I'm trying to lip read.

We are given an outline and some notes to follow, plus a brief overview afterwards, so it's not as if I miss a LOT without the extra accommodations. With the notes and the visual walk throughs during the meetings, I can put it all together afterwards. It's hard, but I make due. Sometimes a week later after the meeting notes are emailed to me (yes it does take that long sometimes), I'll remember a visual software demonstration, and finally understand what was being discussed during the meeting. I try to keep current on my own by fiddling with the software all the time. In my job, hands on learning is usually best anyway.

I have been wondering how it would work even if I had CART. When we broke into groups today, would the transcriber then have had to pick up and transport all her equipment with me? Because these are often software demonstrations, there is already tons of equipment in a tight place. An interpreter would obviously be so much easier, but I'm not fluent enough in ASL yet to utilize one. In any case, this is all a fantasy because it's doubtful my employer will pay for either since these meetings are considered "optional." If I push too hard I may find my work is suddenly not up to par. This has happened to more than one co-worker in the past.

I will just say I feel frustrated and anxious after these meetings, but I did make some extra money today, and I got to see some people I work with who I don't get to see often. So it wasn't a total waste. My anxiety level has been very high lately. I don't have another meeting like this until February now. Maybe I can be sick next time. . .

Lost in a Dark Woods

Sometimes when you are late-deafened, you feel you are lost in a dark, mysterious woods with two people. One is called Hearing, the other Deaf. You have a lantern, but can't light it because you forgot to bring matches. They both possess matches. However, instead of simply lighting your lantern they argue and argue about the best route for you to take home. Each of them pull you in opposite directions. Meanwhile you become cold and frightened and more and more lost.

Then, just by chance another late-deaf person comes along who has a match but no lantern. Off you go working together, finding your way by trial and error. The route is lonely and scary. Along the way you encounter a few other late-deaf and oral deaf people struggling to make sense of the trail. You link together lighting each other's way and sharing information about what you've learned of each other's paths. If one of you gets lost or makes mistakes, no one criticizes. No one tells you you're not acting like a Deaf person. No one treats you like you're "impaired." No one sniffs that you've insulted their culture. No one laughs at you when you misunderstand. You all acknowledge that hearing is hard and learning to be Deaf is hard. Eventually you begin to feel comfortable and accepted being neither hearing or Deaf, but rather just a deaf person who speaks and maybe uses a little ASL and hearing aids or a CI, maybe some ALD's sometimes, maybe not, maybe CART, maybe an interpreter, whatever works. . .

Later on when you bump into Deaf and Hearing again, Deaf asks, "Why didn't you follow ME? I had a match, and I would have lit your lantern! You could have learned ASL!!" Hearing asks the same question, reminding you Cochlear Implant was just around the next bend.

You realize you will never be able to follow Deaf or Hearing. They don't understand.

It Takes All Kinds

Yesterday I came across this passage from the Bible in another blog. http://dolcebellezza.blogspot.com/2007/11/fearfully-and-wonderfully-made.html With all the discussion lately about Deaf/deaf and hard-of-hearing, this took my breath away for a few seconds and made me stop to think.

"The human body has many parts...If the foot says, "I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand," that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, "I am not part of the body because I am only an ear and not an eye," would that make it any less a part of the body? Suppose the whole body were an eye-then how would you hear? Or if your whole body were just one big ear, how could you smell anything? But God made our bodies with many parts, and he has put each part just where he wants it...In fact, some of the parts that seem weakest and least important are really the most necessary." 1 Corinthians 12: 12-22 NLT

Each of us is important. We all have a place in this community of deaf people whether we're oral or not, whether we're late-deaf or born deaf, or implanted, or whether we cue. We all have something to share with the other.

The funny thing is I didn't get this off a Deaf blog. I got it off one of my favorite bookish blogs, and it was about how she felt she didn't fit in with her family-- not because she couldn't hear, but because she wears red lipstick. (smile) It was actually more than that, but Deaf people aren't the only ones who feel out of step with their families, or out of step with the rest of the world sometimes.

Even as a child when I could hear, I was the only introvert in a family of extroverts. Sometimes I don't know how much of me is "deaf me" and how much of me is just me.

(The above titled, "High-heeled Shoe" was painted by deaf artist Roy Tanner.)

What do YOU want?

Yesterday while processing a book, it fell open to a page that said

FOCUS ON WHAT YOU WANT, NOT WHAT YOU DON'T WANT.

Sometimes when things like this happen I wonder if someone is trying to give me a message. I believe in angels and spirit guides and I'm prone to picking up on psychic messages sometimes. So I stopped and paid attention. The overly large word fonts stood right out on a bright red page. My daughter would say this was all a total coincidence because I handle hundreds of books every day, but nevermind--- that's not the point of this blog. The words popped out at me, and this seemed to mean something important at that moment.

I guess the reason it hit me was this;

I realized I've been thinking about exactly the wrong things lately. I've been worrying too much-- about a lot of stuff. Without even realizing I was worrying. Because I was not thinking about this negative stuff consciously, until that moment it didn't hit me how much I had been stewing.

I'll admit I've become cynical about wants. Life aint fair. Wants?! HA! Get real. Shit happens. There are ways of dealing with the hard knocks. But I'm not going to go into all that just now. Instead I'll copy the inspirational path to everlasting "peace" I tried to follow for awhile.

Buddist philosophy--

All human life is "dhukka" (impermanent
unsatisfactoriness).
All suffering is caused
by human desire,particularly the desire that impermanent things be
permanent.
Human suffering can be ended by ending human desire.
Desire
can be ended by following the "Eightfold Noble Path": right understanding, right
thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right
mindfulness, and right concentration.

But you know what? It didn't work. Why? Because wanting is the American way, and not wanting is the same as wanting when it comes right down to it. Say for example I don't want to do poorly on my ASL test on Monday. That's the same as wanting to do well. Right? I have been SO STUPID!

Then I remembered this little nugget of wisdom -- Buddhists base ethical decisions on the consequences of their actions, how they would feel if the action was done to them, and whether the action was helpful to their well-being or the well-being of another. (It's like the Golden Rule. "Do unto others. . .") This is what appeals to me about Buddhism --Your actions should be determined by whether they serve the well-being of self and others, rather than if they fit in with someone's ancient idea of right and wrong 2000 years ago. Not that I have a problem with Jesus, per se. But the Golden Rule is timeless, while many hateful passages of the Bible that some people misinterpret, twist around and spout off serve no useful purpose.

Anyway--Thinking about stuff I don't want to happen won't get me closer to any of the things I DO want to happen.

Of course it is OK to want something as long as it promotes well-being of self and/or others.

Sometimes we turn down what's in front of us for the taking. Ever done that? Sometimes you don't think you deserve something, other times you think you're too good. Maybe you don't. I do. I admit.

So I've been thinking about this a lot the past couple days, and then it hit me that these same thoughts could be applied to the ASL debates people have been having.

You see-- one of my wants is to be able to communicate better without having to worry about hearing. I want that so BAD. I want that more than I want to go through surgery. (I guess not everyone knows-- I **might** be able to have a surgery for an experimental cochlear hybrid.) But I'm not sure I want it. This is why I'm taking ASL. I don't know many people who use ASL right now. I'm meeting some. I worry other Deaf people will not like me because I am slow and a beginner. All I want is to be able to communicate freely and easily. That's all. Well OK--that's not really, really all, but that's all I'm admitting to right now. ASL promotes the well-being of self and others. An experimental surgery? . . .Eh?

In the past several weeks of reading and posting in Deafread, a few people have said they don't like to "slow down" to talk to "hearing" people who are learning ASL. Some of them have said they don't like going to events where non-deaf ASL learners will be present. Some have complained that speakers of other sign languages feel unwelcome-- specifically a man whose partner spoke BSL. Now lately, I've been reading about ISL. Recently someone wrote in a blog her two-year-old deaf-blind son was shunned after a couple Deaf people noticed he was wearing a CI. Additionally, some of my late-deafened friends who were learning ASL have shared personal experiences of being shunned by Deaf people as well. By the way, we can't help it if English was our first language and that our ASL is crappy.

I believe the majority of you are NICE folks who wouldn't dream of shunning a two-year-old deaf-blind boy. Most of you have been so very nice to me.

But I just have to ask ---What do YOU want?

The painting is called "Storms Aftermath" by Charles Bourke Wildbank. He has been profoundly deaf since birth. I really relate to the storm surrounding his cochlea.

Survey on television broadcast transition to digital from analog

I got this email today. It's a survey for HLAA regarding the transition from analog to digital television. It you're interested in taking part, click the link for the survey, fill it out and send it in. You don't have to be a member of HLAA.

Thanks,

Kim

The Hearing Loss Association of America has been invited to participate in a forum with manufacturers and broadcasters of televisions to discuss issues facing us all in the transition to digital from analog television. In order to best prepare for this opportunity we are asking for your feedback on your experiences and preferences with regards to captioning and digital television. Please complete the survey no later than Friday November 16, 2007 by 12 noon. If you have any additional questions please contact Christopher T. Sutton via email at csutton@hearingloss.org Thank you for taking time to respond to this survey!
Click here to take The Survey
About Hearing Loss Association of America

The Hearing Loss Association of America (HLAA), founded in 1979 by Rocky Stone under the name of Self Help for Hard of Hearing People, opens the world of communication to people with hearing loss through information, education, advocacy and support. HLAA publishes the bimonthly Hearing Loss Magazine, holds annual conventions, Walk4Hearing, and more. Information can be found at www.hearingloss.org. The national headquarters is located at 7910 Woodmont Avenue, Suite 1200, Bethesda, MD 20184. HLAA has chapters and state organizations across the country.
Hearing Loss Association of America
Christopher T. Sutton
csutton@hearingloss.org

Some deaf/Deaf Poetry

I didn't post about deaf heroes yesterday. There are plenty, but I have poetry on my mind. I've blogged about deaf artists, athletes, politicians, and scientists. No Authors. Though on the side of my blog I've listed some books written by and about deaf people. "Talk, Talk" was a great thriller, by the way! I haven't gotten to most of the others yet because I've been side-tracked with other stuff. This week I felt like blogging about poetry, just cause I like it. I found the first three on Jamie Berke's page.


I loved this one by Sheri Birnbaum Dennis--

"The Loud Lips of Life"

Sitting here…

watching my trees dance to the muted tune of a breeze
two birds lovingly wing their way through the sun-glistening evergreen
as a hummingbird stands on the wind for a Santa-red drink from its feeder.
squirrels play tag on the sculptured-brown forest carpet
while hundreds of bugs dance in the conical warm sun.
here I sit surrounded by my four cats
who occasionally open their mouths as if to say they're enjoying the view.


Life is signing to me for
there is no gentle whooosh of air through the trees,
or flipflipflipflip of the birds as they move through the air,
or the HUMMMM of the humming bird's singing wings,
or BUZZZZ of a congregation of bugs.

Where is that resounding crr-uunnch of dry-crisp wintery leaves being trampled on by squirrels?


I'm learning to read the Lips of Life.


I really feel like I'm learning to read the lips of life the more deaf I become. I think I'm going to have this next one FRAMED. I LOVE it!!


"What Did You Say By Reba Orton"

Huh? Hmm? Eh? What?
Give that another shot.
What was that?
I missed that.
Repeat that.
I didn’t get that.
I beg your pardon, say that again.
I’m sorry, run that by me again.
Speak louder, speak slower.
Excuse me? Pardon me?
I couldn’t hear you,I can’t hear you.
I didn’t hear you, I don’t understand you.

This one's beautiful.

"The Sound of Sunlight by Anna M. Stott"


Though the silence never ends

I can hearI can hear:

A dove in flight


The sound of sunlight


Trees dancing without wind


Stars twinkling in the night


The flowers sweet songs


The moon's soft spirte


My loves delight.


Though the silence never ends


I can hearI can hear:


All the worlds words
All the lies
All the laughter
And all the the cries
All the songs
And every sigh...
I can hear.

Sometimes what you see is too beautiful for sound. Next--there's this poingnant poem.

Brother Harold

"Brother Harold was a deaf man,"

Said the preacher with a tear,

"But today he's up in heaven,
And today he can hear.
"Brother Harold could not speak,

So he talked with his hands,

But today he speaks with God,
And at last, God understands.
"Brother Harold was a sinner,

Like the rest of us," he screamed.

But no longer is he silent,
For his sins have been redeemed."
And the people in the chapel

Who prayed for his soul

Rejoiced at the conviction
That Harold was now whole.
But as I sat among the mourners

And recalled the Dad I knew

I asked myself the question:
"Is this message really true?
"Are deaf folks simply hearing folks

Whose ears do not perform?

Are women just like men
Except for function and for form?
"Are black folks just like white folks

But for the color of their skin?

Are all of us the same
If we but look deep within?
"Or is each of us unique

In what we are and what we give?

Aren't our differences our strengths?"
Let me share what I believe.
I believe if there's a heaven

It's a place not so very far

Where our differences are valued
And we're accepted as we are.
And I believe if there's a God.

He or She understands,

For He listens with his heart,
And he talks with his hands.

- Robert Ingram


Yeah-- God talks to me without words even now.

And finally-- I LOVED this-- which maybe some of you have already seen. But this is what I LOVE about ASL. You can't do this kind of poetry with words. It's like dancing with hands. I'm not even sure how to decribe this, except to say -- AWESOME.

Disappointing Deaf Chat

I went to a Deaf Chat last night for the community college class where I'm taking ASL. My teacher was there and several others from my college, plus students from a different college. But NO Deaf people that I could see. In fact, I believe my teacher and I were probably the only two deaf/HH people there. I'm not totally sure about this, because I didn't know all the students personally. Some students in my ASL class are HH but the HH/deaf students I knew weren't there last night.

I have to say I was a bit disappointed. I've been to other Deaf Chats with deaf friends. This time I felt like an oddity being one of two deaf/HH people attending. The first student I sat next to knew **nothing**. He was from the other school. Believe me, I'm not fluent. This guy-- I'm not sure if he knew ANY actual words. He didn't even understand "baby." Really!! I tried to tell him something about my son. He didn't understand the word 'son.' So I broke it down. 'Boy' + 'baby.' He didn't understand either word. I've never met anyone who didn't get it when you signed baby. He didn't understand the difference between 'want' and 'have.' He didn't know 'mother' or 'father' or 'teacher.' He should have known these words even if he was taking beginning ASL 101, because it's already the middle of the quarter. He should have learned those words the first week. We ended up fingerspelling everything.

OK-- I was fine with someone who was a beginner. We all need to start somewhere and it was brave of him to show up. Plus I suck at fingerspelling, so I needed the practice. But he kept checking his phone. He got up and walked away several times without apologizing or saying anything. The thing is I never heard his phone ring and only knew he was talking on the phone because he pulled it out and walked away. Now I understand about Teresa's blog a few weeks ago when she asked how Deaf felt about others using their phones at Deaf events. It wasn't that I needed him to interpret his conversation for me. Heavens! He wouldn't have been able to anyway. However, even among the hearing, it's simple courtesy to say "excuse me." Better yet, unless it's really important to receive calls, you should turn your phone off while talking to others, or explain WHY you need to take that call.

Did he want to be there at the Deaf Chat?? I think not. I guess it was part of his class "assignment" to take notes about what I said because I saw him write down some things about me. YIKES!! He never even asked if that was OK! He left early. After forty minutes of patiently showing him signs and fingerspelling with him, he simply got up and left. Good riddance too!! The look of relief on his face when his ride showed up was priceless. I know he was thinking 'Thank GOD, the torture of talking to this deaf woman is over!" He didn't even say good-bye or thanks or nod in my direction. How RUDE!! I felt like a specimen. The others from his school didn't try to communicate in ASL at all. They only stared at me and the others in my school signing away. If I had had a choice I would have moved on to talk to someone else, but I had arrived late and all the other chairs were taken, so I was stuck in this area surrounded by people from the other school. Soon after my guy left, the rest of them left too, so only those from my school were left.

Then we all closed in and I had a much better time chatting with the students from my own school. They all signed much better, and seemed to feel more comfortable about my deafness. In fact it didn't matter at all. After that we just chatted about funny stuff and we had some good **laffs.** We all noticed how the students from the other school seemed to be way behind. I know nothing about that teacher at the other school.

Sometimes I wonder why people take ASL if they feel so uncomfortable around deaf/HH people.

On the bright side-- a nice surprise and more praise for Starbucks. This Deaf Chat was held at a Starbucks. I had a horrible time finding it. For those of you who don't know--- I live in the Seattle area and there are probably two Starbucks on every block, plus a couple other drive thru latte stands and coffee shops in-between. We drink a lotta coffee here-- OK??? Our winters are D-A-R-K. Coffee helps to relieve Seasonal Affective Disorder. Look that one up. We get weird in the winter without our coffee. I'm getting off track. . . So I was driving around and pulled into the wrong Starbucks one block away from the one I was supposed to be at. Wouldn't you know the kid at the counter knew a little ASL? A high school kid. I've run into this before at Starbucks. They look for workers who know ASL. Starbucks is SO Deaf friendly. So this kid knew about the Deaf Chat at the other Starbucks and told me how to get there and even signed a little while he was speaking as best he could. Sweet!

Since I have to go to this Deaf chat, I plan to take a deaf friend next time if I can convince someone to go with me. (sigh) Or maybe I'll talk to my teacher and see if it's OK to go somewhere else and sign with other people who are more advanced than me, so I can learn more, cuz I was really super disappointed about last night.

How Evelyn Glennie Gave My Life Back

Normally on Sunday I blog about a talented Deaf person. Today I’ve been thinking about someone who has been an inspiration to me. But first, I guess I should back up and tell you something about myself.

When I was a little girl I played the piano. I played for years and years, for hours a day. There was a time I imagined becoming a concert pianist. Even after I started losing my hearing, I continued to play the piano. I could not imagine life without music.

Early on I had a natural ear for music. I could tell three notes just by hearing alone without looking-- C, F, and G. From there I could figure other notes, and I was able to sound out songs I heard by the time I was five. If you have been hearing, you know most people cannot do this, so I was born with a special musical gift even among hearing people.

As I became deafer, I began to fear the loss of music. First, I could not hear music boxes. On our first Christmas together my husband began a tradition of giving me a music box, but by our fifth year I admitted to him I couldn’t hear them. In fact, I had never been able to hear them. Then it was the radio. Songs began to sound different. “Oldies” that I had once known as a kid didn‘t sound right. Flute solos, soprano harmony and guitar parts were missing. Finally, as the years passed and my hearing continued to decline, my own piano playing became affected.



Notes above middle - C began to sound flat. I stopped playing. I can still listen to others play the piano. It’s just that when I play, I get distracted by flat sounding notes when I know I have struck the right key. It drives me nuts.



The thing is-- I was born to make music. And dance. I still dream about music, pianos, dancing at night. . .and so. . . When I stopped playing the piano it left a big hole in my life that needed to be filled. For several years I felt depressed because there was this big missing hole. Sure-- I had other hobbies. I skiied, but only in the winter. I like photography and I read a lot. I still missed making music. One thing about my hearing-- my low tones have stayed fairly constant and I have continued to enjoy rhythm and base. So one time, when Stomp came to town I went to see them. They energized me!! I could not get them out of my mind!


Then someone told me about Evelyn Glennie, the Scottish percussionist who plays barefoot. She’s amazing!! I have never seen her live. I would love to someday. I have decided not to write much about her myself, except that she was born in Scotland in 1965 and was deafened by age 12. Her father was a musician, so she was given musical training as well. I will let her explain her own deafness and music. This is what she says about it on her webpage. You can also read more here. Evelyn Glennie's Hearing Essay
“Deafness is poorly understood in general. For instance, there is a common misconception that deaf people live in a world of silence. To understand the nature of deafness, first one has to understand the nature of hearing.
Hearing is basically a specialized form of touch. Sound is simply vibrating air which the ear picks up and converts to electrical signals, which are then interpreted by the brain. The sense of hearing is not the only sense that can do this, touch can do this too. If you are standing by the road and a large truck goes by, do you hear or feel the vibration? The answer is both. With very low frequency vibration the ear starts becoming inefficient and the rest of the body's sense of touch starts to take over. For some reason we tend to make a distinction between hearing a sound and feeling a vibration, in reality they are the same thing. It is interesting to note that in the Italian language this distinction does not exist. The verb 'sentire' means to hear and the same verb in the reflexive form 'sentirsi' means to feel. Deafness does not mean that you can't hear, only that there is something wrong with the ears. Even someone who is totally deaf can still hear/feel sounds.
If we can all feel low frequency vibrations why can't we feel higher vibrations? It is my belief that we can, it's just that as the frequency gets higher and our ears become more efficient they drown out the more subtle sense of 'feeling' the vibrations. I spent a lot of time in my youth (with the help of my school Percussion teacher Ron Forbes) refining my ability to detect vibrations. I would stand with my hands against the classroom wall while Ron played notes on the timpani (timpani produce a lot of vibrations). Eventually I managed to distinguish the rough pitch of notes by associating where on my body I felt the sound with the sense of perfect pitch I had before losing my hearing. The low sounds I feel mainly in my legs and feet and high sounds might be particular places on my face, neck and chest.
It is worth pointing out at this stage that I am not totally deaf, I am profoundly deaf. Profound deafness covers a wide range of symptoms, although it is commonly taken to mean that the quality of the sound heard is not sufficient to be able to understand the spoken word from sound alone. With no other sound interfering, I can usually hear someone speaking although I cannot understand them without the additional input of lip-reading. In my case the amount of volume is reduced compared with normal hearing but more importantly the quality of the sound is very poor. For instance when a phone rings I hear a kind of crackle. However, it is a distinctive type of crackle that I associate with a phone so I know when the phone rings. This is basically the same as how normally hearing people detect a phone, the phone has a distinctive type of ring which we associate with a phone. I can in fact communicate over the phone. I do most of the talking whilst the other person can say a few words by striking the transmitter with a pen, I hear this as clicks. I have a code that depends on the number of strikes or the rhythm that I can use to communicate a handful of words.
So far we have the hearing of sounds and the feeling of vibrations. There is one other element to the equation, sight. We can also see items move and vibrate. If I see a drum head or cymbal vibrate or even see the leaves of a tree moving in the wind then subconsciously my brain creates a corresponding sound. A common and ill informed question from interviewers is 'How can you be a musician when you can't hear what you are doing?' The answer is of course that I couldn't be a musician if I were not able to hear. Another often asked question is 'How do you hear what you are playing?' The logical answer to this is; how does anyone hear?. An electrical signal is generated in the ear and various bits of other information from our other senses all get sent to the brain which then processes the data to create a sound picture. The various processes involved in hearing a sound are very complex but we all do it subconsciously so we group all these processes together and call it simply listening. The same is true for me. Some of the processes or original information may be different but to hear sound all I do is to listen. I have no more idea of how I hear than you do.
You will notice that more and more the answers are heading towards areas of philosophy. Who can say that when two normally hearing people hear a sound they hear the same sound? I would suggest that everyone's hearing is different. All we can say is that the sound picture built up by their brain is the same, so that outwardly there is no difference. For me, as for all of us, I am better at certain things with my hearing than others. I need to lip-read to understand speech but my awareness of the acoustics in a concert venue is excellent. For instance, I will sometimes describe an acoustic in terms of how thick the air feels.
To summarize, my hearing is something that bothers other people far more than it bothers me. There are a couple of inconveniences but in general it doesn't affect my life much. For me, my deafness is no more important than the fact I am female with brown eyes. Sure, I sometimes have to find solutions to problems related to my hearing and music but so do all musicians. Most of us know very little about hearing, even though we do it all the time. Likewise, I don't know very much about deafness, what's more I'm not particularly interested. I remember one occasion when uncharacteristically I became upset with a reporter for constantly asking questions only about my deafness. I said: 'If you want to know about deafness, you should interview an audiologist. My speciality is music".


And so, it was about a year and a half ago, someone asked if I wanted to join a "drum circle." I craved a musical outlet, but I had never tapped a drum in my life. Would this be weird. I wondered? My children had been accusing me of acting weird ever since they became teenagers. I thought and thought, then I remembered Evelyn Glennie!!! Not only is she a middle-aged woman who plays drums, but she's also Deaf! Because I work in a library I checked out a book on djembes, which are the drums used in drum circles. Then I started researching on-line. Next I went to a music store to find out about drum circles in my area. I guess it was meant to be, because the store was having a drum sale and I found a beautiful little djembe for an extremely good price. Now I am taking djembe lessons.




Also because djembes are used as accompaniment for belly-dancing, I sort of got hooked up with that as well. So now you know why Evelyn Glennie is special to me.

This is my djembe sitting next to my empty piano bench. Isn't it cute?? It was made in Indonesia, and is very small and light. Perfect for me because I do not have big hands and could not carry a heavy drum. I also have bongos and just bought some marachas in Mexico. Last night my daughter came home and we jammed a little. FUN!

The drum also provides good exercise. I have learned drum circles are being used for meditational/spiritual healing. Beating on a drum requires much concentration. I've been in love since I started playing it.

A Reflection

I’ve already blogged about this in Myspace, but I felt like blogging about it here too. Sorry if you’ve already read it.

Something happened in Mexico that profoundly moved me. One afternoon after lunch, my husband and I were walking up the beach when we saw a man and woman dragging a lifeless teenaged boy from the water in the distance. At first I thought he might be dead. He was so young-- I estimated somewhere between fifteen to nineteen years. My heart went to my throat. This was the first time I had ever seen a lifeless body pulled from water. Because he was a child, it was a pretty intense and emotional moment for me.

Since I know first aid and CPR, I ran ahead to see if they needed assistance. My husband ran off to find a life guard. There was only one to cover all three beaches. As I got closer I could see the boy’s lips were still pink, but I asked if he was breathing anyway-- maybe just because I needed to say something and I needed to be sure. The other two brought him up on the sand and confirmed they had seen him inhale and felt an exhale. They worked quickly as they checked for signs of life, and seemed to know what they were doing. Then they rolled him onto his side so he could cough up the sea water that came next.

Next they told me what happened. The boy had appeared intoxicated. They watched him stumble into the water, then roll around in the waves awhile until he passed out. Just as they finished their story, he sputtered, coughed, spit out some more seawater, and came to. Then he stood up and ran into the waves again.

By this time a crowd had gathered, and the first man went after him along with another man from the crowd. The men dragged the boy back to the beach kicking and screaming in Spanish. It wasn’t easy bringing him to shore the second time. The boy stumbled and fell into a heap onto the beach, then kicked at people in the crowd who started to gather around him. He got up onto his knees, and again darted out. Two guys grabbed him a third time, and threw up back onto the beach, yelling at him to STAY! But of course he couldn’t understand because he spoke Spanish. Most of us in the crowd spoke English, though a few Mexicans had also joined us-- beach vendors of wood carvings or blankets, and a guy who operated a paragliding outfit.

The crowd closed in. Once more the boy tried to run at a couple of people, but each time was met by a big man who pushed him back. Eventually he realized he wouldn’t break through the crowd, so he threw himself down in a brown, boney, wet heap-- sniffling and whimpering in Spanish, a look of hopelessness on his face.

At that moment I scanned the crowd. Here were people from all walks of life--Americans and Mexicans, old and young, male and female, Straight and Gay (we were next to the Gay beach), Black and White, deaf (me) and hearing, and probably all different religious affiliations as well--all of us working together to prevent one young man from killing himself that afternoon. We stood there silently, a human cage surrounding him, keeping him safe from himself.

The capacity to care for strangers is what sets us apart from other animals. For those few moments I felt so connected. I have had days I wanted to die. I have grieved the loss of loved ones. I knew the others stood there with me for the very same reasons. We‘ve all had days we wanted to die. We all knew people we couldn‘t bear to lose. In these moments, the boy was our brother, our son, our friend, our lover, he was someone important, though none of us knew him.

Then in a flash the lifeguard came with his cell phone, called the authorities, and started asking questions. Those who knew Spanish began talking. The couple who dragged the boy from the water told their story, and the crowd began to disperse. It was over. My husband and I went on our way. I’ve been thinking about that boy ever since, and all those people who cared enough to stop him from killing himself. I hope he’s OK now.

My Mexican Vacation --Part 2 with pictures.

We had such a fantastic time in Puerto Vallarta I didn’t want to come home. As a tourist, you’ve got your choice of cruises, jungle tours, festival!, shopping/haggling, hiking, fishing, snorkeling, paragliding, and my favorite-- just taking it easy on the beach. Night life thrums along the beach until well past 3am. Few, if any, activities require hearing. This was taken at Festival!

Most of the Mexicans we encountered in the city knew some English so we could get around OK. If you can’t hear, I suggest using pen and paper. They are eager to communicate and don‘t look down on you if you‘re Deaf. I’d like to thank Anonymous who commented to my previous post about the differences between sordO and sordA-- male vs. female deaf people. Just point to your ear when you say it. They’ll figure it out. They are used to talking to people who don’t speak the language and are open minded about mistakes.

Here are some things you might want to know.
*Food-- There was a surprising variety and it was tasty. I say the variety was a surprise because the only other touristy spot I’ve been to was Cabo which is quite a bit smaller and doesn‘t offer the food choices. Real Mexican food is not covered with cheese. Their mainstay on the coast is fish. They also eat a LOT of vegetables, so if you order a burrito or fajita, expect half a plate of marinated veggies, guacamole, and a teeny amount of cheese--if any. American hamburgers and sandwiches are popular, as well as coffee/internet cafes. One place offered a number of tasty fruit smoothies. Tropical fruits are abundant and always in season. BBQ is popular too. The second most well-liked ethnic food was Italian. Pizza and Pasta restaurants were everywhere. We also found an Asian restaurant, though we didn’t eat there. Two buffets offered tiramisu for dessert. As a vegetarian, I pretty much stuck to salads, veggie sandwiches, pastas and Mexican meatless dishes. Service was slow. One time we waited an hour for pizza. A half-hour or more was typical. We almost always had to ask for our bill when we were through eating. You can eat just forty feet from the waves right on the beach at night. They bring out a torch for light.

*Bathrooms. Learn the word baño. You will need to ask where it is when you are out because it won‘t be obvious. Sometimes you will see the international signs with a woman in a dress or a man. Other times you won‘t. Be careful. Banos are not always clearly labeled.

*Tours-- Don’t expect Deaf accommodations. Don’t expect safety accommodations. We rarely found a working seat belt. Don’t expect anyone to be on time. You’re not in Amerika.

Here is an example. . . We were told to be at the San Marino hotel at 9:10 am for our El Eden Jungle Tour. By 10:10am, my husband asked the concierge for the 20th time, “Are you SURE they’re coming?” The previous 19 times he had been told they were sometimes “late.” No worries. But this time the concierge called and was informed we were to be sent by taxi to another hotel. The Jungle Tour company paid our taxi fare. Somehow there had been a mix-up. No explanation. Just lots of rapid serious Spanish discussion on the phone, hurried driving to get the Americans to the right spot, then smiling and nodding as we took our seat on the bus.

From the hotel we suffered through a hair-raising bus ride up a narrow, rutted, mountainous dirt road with hairpin turns and unguarded cliff edges. At times when another vehicle needed to pass in the opposite direction we balanced just inches from 500 foot drops offs. I wished I had not chosen a window seat.

Our tour guide talked non-stop switching back and forth easily between Spanish and English. I couldn’t understand either language.

By the time we reached the top I was sick with headache and nausea, and popped a pill I keep on hand for pounding migraines. When the tour guide asked if anyone was up for a hike in the jungle, I said yes. Migraines are caused by constricted blood vessels to the brain. Often exercise will open up the blood vessels. No amount of medication will help when blood vessels are constricted. So up we hiked to a pristine waterfall where cool mountain springs pooled invitingly at the bottom of smooth rocks. Since I wore my bathing suit under my clothing, I stripped happily, and took a dip. This was probably the highlight of the entire trip for me.

Our guide gave me some medical advice -- "When your feet are not the same temperature as your head, it can cause sore throat with the tonsil and headache, so you muss dip your head in the water, Seniora.” At first I refused because I had on my glasses. It’s bad enough to go swimming without hearing aids, but to take off my glasses too, well then I can’t see either and that was asking too much!!

Finally, at his insistence, I dipped. And damn he was right!! My headache went away instantly! I’ve been seeing an expensive neurologist who hasn’t been able figure out my headaches. So remember this little bit of Mestizo wisdom--make sure your feet and head are always the same temperature. The smiling picture of me above was taken as I was getting out of the jungle spring feeling refreshed and headache free!


On the way back, we stopped into a tequila tasting room. Fun, fun, fun!That's my husband posing with hundreds of bottles of tequila. I didn't taste because I didn't want to push my luck after curing the headache.

Another great tour was Rhythms of the Night, which included boat cruise, open bar, food, Native dancing to Aztec type drum music, and romantic open air candlelight dinner in the jungle. We got lucky and timed it on the same night as the full moon. It couldn’t have been more beautiful or romantic.

We also went to a Festival! This included music and dance floor; traditional Mexican folk dancing; drinks; a dancing horse; games such as a contest of female volunteers who had to sing while gargling tequila; fireworks; buffet; piñata; drinks and they make balloon hats for you; dancing; and more drinks! It’s essentially a fun, fun party. Did I mention drinks? Here we are in our hats.

The rest of the time we hung out on the beach, swam in the ocean and walked around the town, did a little shopping. . . I couldn't believe this pelican let me get so close to him!

The temperatures hovered around 90 degrees during the day and 75 at night. The ocean felt perfect, with the water temp maybe upper-70s? The beach slopes off quickly so the waves come in strong, but it's not trecherous once you get past the shore waves and great for body surfing if you're so inclined. I enjoyed bobbing around in the water for awhile each day to cool off. I am a good swimmer and not afraid of the ocean since I grew up on a beach.

We stayed just off Playa de los Muertos in Old Town, where there were cobbled streets and flowers hanging from every window. Old Town is romantic, safe, and we could walk to just about all the tourist hot spots from there, so it was a great location.

My Mexican Vacation

It’s the end of day two in Mexico. So far I’ve found it pretty easy to get around as a hard-of-hearing/deaf vegetarian. I had forgotten how they accost you the second you get off the plane-- official looking people grabbing at you, hoping to sell you a condo and package deals to the luxury vacation of your dreams. We came here to relax.

Night people by nature, we elected not to sleep before leaving home at 2:30am Tues. morning. By 12:15 pm when our plane landed in Puerto Vallarta, we had been awake over 24 hours, and the last meal we had eaten was six pm--eighteen hours before. We were tired, hungry, bedraggled looking and had the words “American sucker” written all over us when we stumbled away from Customs.

I stood patiently listening to the human babble around me. Could have been English or Spanish. Didn‘t make any difference. All I heard was hundreds of people chattering as I watched my husband slowly get sucked into some deal. Nudging him in the leg, I quietly signed the word “no.” We were both tired and vulnerable. I didn’t care about the condos, massages, fancy restaurants or boat cruises displayed before him. We left the airport -- with the taxi driver from hell.

Too tired to think about all the painful ways a person could die in a Mexican taxicab, I was aware he was driving recklessly, but only wanted a bed. Though it did occur to me death was a type of rest. Driving through town, different Spanish words started coming back.

It has been awhile since I’ve been to Mexico. I’ve never had a large Spanish vocabulary, but I know a how to ask for directions to a bathroom and what words mean “meat” on a menu. We arrived at our hotel early. Check-in wasn’t until 4:00 and we still had our Seattle clothing on. Here, it’s a humid 90 degrees.

“Caliente” (hot), I said to the guy managing our suitcases. He had them tagged in a grouping while we waited for our room. Then I picked up my top in the ASL sign for shirt and asked, “change?” while automatically signing “change.” If there has ever been an award given for number of languages used in one sentence, I think that could be it.

“Si” he said, nodding and moving his finger in an around gesture indicating around the corner. Then, he bid another guy to load up our suitcases in Spanish. They started walking, beckoning us to follow. We were escorted to a spacious, air-conditioned suite to change our clothes and rest while waiting for our own room.

AHH! It pays to know a few signs. I use them often with library patrons at work who don’t speak English well. Between the little Spanish I know, the little English they know, and a few signs that seem to be universally understood, I’m generally able to communicate with them pretty well.

After we finally got settled into our room, we went down to the beach, ate, then came back and slept, then went out and ate some more, then came back and slept until noon today. There’s not much else to tell. We were tired and hungry. The beach is beautiful during the day and at night. The food is fantastic, once they get over my shocking request of “no meat.”

“No meat?! No feesh?! No pollo?! Cheecken?! Shreemp?!”

Today I practiced the Spanish words, “Sorry, deaf.” (excusa, sordo) on all the Mexicans selling stuff on the beach. I have no idea if these are the correct words or if I'm pronouncing them right or saying them in perfect order. Maybe I'm supposed to say, "sordo, excusa?" -- I don't know. I looked them up in a dictionary. They will have to do. Some of them nodded when I said sordo and pointed to my ear, so I think maybe they got the idea. I wasn’t lying about this either. I had to take my aids off because of the humidity. I am almost deaf with my aids. Without, I am quite deaf. If any of you know Spanish, I wouldn‘t mind learning a few more words. Thanks.

Robert Davila

Tomorrow I’m going to Puerto Vallarta. Am I ever looking forward to the sunshine! Seattle has been stormy this past week. We even had a smallish windstorm with power blinks last Thursday.

On Sundays, it has been my weekly tradition to feature a talented, notable, skilled famous deaf person. I thought perhaps a Mexican-American might be appropriate since I haven’t covered that ethnic group yet.

Who better than Dr. Robert Davila???? Probably most of you know his story, but for those who don’t I’ll give a brief synopsis of his life.

He was born July 19th, 1932 in San Diego, California to Mexican migrant workers. When he was six years old his father died from a heart-attack leaving his mother to raise him and his six siblings by herself. At age eight, he became sick with spinal meningitis which left him deaf. Unable to care for him, his mother sent him to the California School for the Deaf in Berkeley, California, five hundred miles away. He was sent there all alone. The only language he spoke when he arrived was Spanish, but he picked up English and ASL quickly. This is what he said about those years,

“I have never dwelt on these aspects of my early life as disadvantages. In fact, my humble beginnings were actually a motivating force that inspired me to succeed in whatever I attempted. . .Access to a quality education has made all the difference. I encountered teachers and staff who took a personal interest in me and assisted me in many ways. Without quality education I could never have achieved what I have.”

He graduated at age sixteen and entered Gallaudet to pursue a degree in Education. Though it was unusual for a deaf person to apply for graduate degrees at the time, he earned his masters in education, then spent several years teaching math, social studies and English at Fanwood. In 1972, he earned his PhD in Educational Technology from Syracuse University. Then, in 1974 he was promoted to director of Kendall Demonstration Elementary School. He was appointed as Vice-President of Gallaudet Pre-College Programs in 1978 where he oversaw both KDES and MDDS.

On July 21st, 1989 Dr. Davila was sworn in for the post of Office of Special Education and Rehabilitation Services- the highest ranking government job a deaf individual has ever held in the United States. His nomination for this post couldn’t have come at a more critical time, for he was able to influence and authorize crucial passages in the American Disabilities Act that would have a far-reaching affect on future deaf/Deaf education and all people with disabilities. He had huge responsibilities including the management of billions dollars, monitoring all state programs for compliance with federal guidelines and regulations, and the direct supervision over Gallaudet University and NTID.

Once again, he is back at Gallaudet, now as president. I have been reading blogs to see how the Gallautians feel about him--both current students and alums. I‘m certainly impressed with his qualifications myself and with his positive attitude toward inclusion. I love "Bob's Vlogs," that are captioned so I can understand, and that he interviewed two students with Cochlear Implants last month. I noted in that Vlog he said 200 Gallaudet Freshmen wore CI’s this year. I thought that was interesting.

I will end this blog with one final quote, an introduction of Dr. Davila by Dr. Rex Cottle when Davila spoke at Lamar University. “From migrant worker to presidential appointee, Robert Davila epitomizes courage and academic excellence.”

I agree.

Diverse Thoughts: Who Belongs in your Inner Circle?

Lately I've been reading a lot of interesting blogs and thinking about the terms d-deaf and D-deaf. Chris Heuer generated a great discussion when he asked if oral deaf were developing their own culture. Since I'm neither oral deaf or culturally deaf, I didn't have an opinion on this specifically, but followed the debate-- which eventually morphed into the question of who is part of Deaf culture. I should clarify--yes I'm oral-- but I didn't grow up deaf so I consider myself LATE-deafened. My "culture" is White Anglo-Saxon Protestant American. YUP. I'm a WASP.

I could never claim to be "culturally" deaf, and I'm not sure I'd want to be. Frankly, after weeks of reading all kinds of Deaf blogs and trying to understand Deaf logic I have to admit I'm still perplexed. Many Deaf bloggers are exceedingly bright, logical and articulate. It's the concept of excluding anyone who doesn't fit certain rigid qualifications of the "Deaf" deafinition that throws me. The Deaf define deafness differently than Webster’s dictionary: "Deafness: Deafness is defined by partial or complete hearing loss. Levels of hearing impairment vary from a mild but important loss of sensitivity to a total loss of hearing."

OK-- In fairness, Webster’s is an English dictionary. The validity of a separate Deaf definition could be argued. ASL IS a separate language, after all. According to Deaf culture I have deafness and I'm a part of deaf community, but I'm not Deaf, I'm only. . . deaf. What I question is the elitism expressed by some. Though, I get the feeling it's only a minority of Deaf who promote elitism. The majority seem open to including others/any deaf person fluent in ASL.

I've asked those in the minority--I’ll call them the “excluders“-- how the Deaf benefit from excluding others, and I was told by one my question offended her because I was somehow disrespecting/invalidating Deaf culture since I would never ask the same question of a Korean or French person. This is not true. I WOULD ask if we were discussing Korean or French policies of exclusion. I had prefaced my question with examples of the benefits of diversity within America. I was simply trying to understand something that didn‘t make any sense.

Historically, when a small group of people have fought for independence, rights, or whatever, most have traditionally adopted the motto, "United we stand, divided we fall." -- It's from Aesop. During the American Revolution, we were made of 13 separate colonies who fought amongst each other, then realized the only way to win our independence against the greatest power on earth would be to pull together. One reason the American Indians failed against the white man was because they could not unite, and we used this weakness against them by constantly spreading rumors to keep them suspicious of each other. The one time they did unite they were a powerful scary force. It's an old trick-- divide and conquer. Do I see through hearing eyes or American eyes?

One offended "excluder" used a whole lot of armchair psychology on me. Here’s a nice little quote (yes--I‘m being sarcastic): “I think that (your comment) stems from the feeling that Deaf culture is somehow unimportant and expendable, just as ASL is somehow not "appropriate" for deaf babies (but fine for hearing babies, for example).”

Just for the record--I believe ALL deaf babies should learn ASL. However, it isn’t for me to tell others what to do or to judge them when they don’t do what I think they should. I am late-deafened. I’m learning ASL. If I had a deaf child, which I don’t, I would want that child to learn ASL. Also, if I had a deaf child I would love him/her equally, just as I hope you all would love a hearing child. It makes me gag when I hear deaf people saying they want a deaf child. Of course I understand you want a child like yourself, but it's sort of the same thing as a hearing person saying she would be disappointed if her child were deaf-- reverse discrimination. If you don't like hearing people saying this about their deaf children, you shouldn't say this about your own hearing children. When I was pregnant all three times I only said I hoped my children were healthy and that I would love whatever God gave me. I have encouraged my hearing children to learn ASL. I do not judge others for following a different path, but please love ALL your kids for who they are.

I have mentioned that America values diversity. Admittedly we need to work on it. There are some unpopular exclusive groups. KKK for example. We've had a lot of racial incidents lately. . . On a personal level I despise all forms of exclusion. I have gay friends, Buddhist friends, black and Asian friends. I grew up saying the Pledge of Allegiance with the phrase,. . ."and liberty and justice for all" and I took it to heart. I assume American deaf children say the same Pledge. I believe America has benefited tremendously from black culture, Latino culture, Asian and Jewish cultures just to name a few, and yes, even gays and gay culture. We are, in fact, the greatest country in the world because some of the most talented people come here to live, and we welcome them with open arms. This is our American way. I give one obvious and very convincing example--Albert Einstein. I could list thousands.

Further I feel compelled to point out that some of America’s most celebrated Deaf heroes don’t fit the prototypical Deaf culture ideal because they were oral. Just to name a few--Edmund Booth, Regina Olsen Hughes, Donald L. Ballantyne, Robert Weitbrect, Erastus Smith and many, many more. Those of you who would exclude oral Deaf from your inner circle, how do you teach your children about these Deaf heroes? Are they completely ignored?

Judging from blog input lately, the entire Deaf community seemed deeply disturbed by the racial incident at MDDS this past month. The response actually surprised me--mainly because this sort of thing happens in hearing schools all the time. I believe the only reason it made the national news at all was because of the “twist” involving deaf students. It wasn’t even a particularly violent attack. The kid was drawn on for heaven‘s sake. Kids get beaten up and stabbed for being the wrong color at hearing schools all the time. If this had happened at a private hearing school? (***yaaaawwwwnnn***). Not that it should be overlooked, but things like this happen so often that unless someone nearly died, it would be overlooked.

The fact that the Deaf blogged about it for a full ten days or so opened my eyes to the true colors and feelings about the community of Deaf bloggers. They care intensely about diversity, racism and inclusion. I conclude exclusion is NOT a Deaf value held by most.

Finally, I'm taken aback by those who reject the medical model of deafness. I was surprised by the blog about cell phone etiquette during Deaf events and how many readers admitted being able to use a cell phone in noisy environments. The thing is, most late-deafened and oral deaf people I know have a lot of trouble using cell phones-- IF they use phones at all. I almost never see anyone using them at late-deafened events. Admittedly some can use cell phones in quiet places with awkward accommodations attached, NEVER in public. It's super rare. We're DEAF! Does it seem a little strange to anyone that my oral-deaf friend Kate who uses a TTY, Sidekick for texting only, and video phone for all phone communication would be labeled only hard-of-hearing since her primary mode of communication is oral? She does know ASL, but her husband and children are hearing, and she was mainstreamed as a kid. Not her fault!

I think Paotie summed it up best when he said that (rejecting the medical model of deafness) was like one black person telling another he's MORE black. But hey-- that does happen! Blacks do get down on each other for acting too white sometimes. I’ll give you one guess who’s more successful in life-- the black guy who talks in “Ebonics” or the one who uses proper English?

Personally--I see us all on a continuum with hearing people being at one end and deaf non-oral at the other. The rest of us fall in-between somewhere. We either speak or we don't depending on where we fall on the continuum and when we fell there. Some of us use ASL, some don't. We're all deaf to some degree. None of us is better than anyone else. We all deserve compassion and respect. You’ve all given me smiles, even those of you I disagree with.

Please keep blogging because I‘m captivated.

Uzi Buzgalo

Recently I read a blog where two people argued whether deaf culture really existed. One person made the statement that the deaf don’t have their own form of art. The other person listed off some deaf artists and mentioned deaf view/image art called De‘VIA, which can be found at Deaf Art.

I’ve been looking at this site for awhile and I love it. If there’s one argument FOR deaf culture it is art. Deaf artists view and express themselves in space through vivid imagery. An emphasis on hands, eyes, lips and color in addition to common themes of repression pop up over and over, both validating and defining deaf culture. When artists create, they project their experiences and feelings into whatever they’re forming. I know this on a personal level because my mother is an artist.

I often tell the story how as a child I came home to my mom painting at an easel day after day. I used to love watching her drawings come to life on the canvas as she mixed and blended colors, them brushed them ever so lightly or scraped across the canvas to create just a certain texture. It was magical. Like most kids I‘d have a snack and talk to my mom after school before running off to play. Not until I became an adult did I realize she used me as a model in so many of her works. The children in her paintings all had my face.

This week I decided to write about a deaf artist. There are so many. I found a great book called, Deaf Artists in America: Colonial to Contemporary by Deborah M. Sonnenstrahl. Not all of the artists in this book adhere to De’VIA‘s manifesto, but there have been many, many talented deaf artists in America and all over the world.

I‘ve chosen to write about Uzi Buzgalo because I just really LOVE his work. His colors are whimsical, and his message is fun, and his art makes me smile. (This one to the left looks like a telephone with hands popping out of it. In the background is a television set with flower hands or some such thing. It's hard to tell. I wish this picture were bigger. If one of you out there knows, please explain this!)

He was born in Israel in 1956. Deaf from birth, he went to the Jerusalem School for the Deaf where he learned Israeli Sign Language. He showed an interest and talent in art from an early age and began studying art seriously from about age eleven. Additionally, he loved to dance. As a young adult he joined a professional dance company made up of deaf and hearing dancers, Kol Demama meaning “Sound-Silence,” and he enjoyed traveling all over the world with them. His experiences with professional dance influenced his art style, which has been described as color waves and dots. His agent explains the impression of the dots as “deaf eyes that see in constant motion.” Like many other deaf artists, hands figure prominently in his work.

One of Buzgalo's paintings in the book that caught my eye was called Only Lives In Water. I couldn’t find this on-line. (Too bad!) I’ll describe it. The top portion had a huge fish. The lower third was obviously water. So the fish was OUT of the water. Under the water were so many, many people with arms and hands flailing about. Buzgalo explained this painting. I’ll quote directly from "Deaf Artists In America." When he was a small boy, “he watched his grandmother lay a fish on the kitchen table and the fish’s mouth was still moving. He asked his grandmother whether the fish was speaking. His grandmother told him that it does not say anything and ’it has no voice’ like him.”

Eventually Buzgalo's travels took him to the United States, and he became a US citizen in 1995.

Communication Barriers

Last Wednesday marked my fourth day in ASL class and I was pleased with my test score of 99 out of 100. This wasn't a huge surprise because much of the vocabulary was a review since I've already taken courses at the Hearing Speech and Deafness Cntr. and have spent lots of time conversing with a couple deaf friends. I was worried that I had lost some vocabulary since I haven't seen them lately, but it's quickly coming back.

The great thing about my college course is my deaf teacher is spending more time on ASL grammar and convention than my previous instructor did. She's moving quickly and I've already picked up many new words including the ASL names for all the local cities around here. Up til now I've only known Seattle, the town where my daughter goes to school, and a few towns in my vicinity. My teacher is absolutely wonderful! She's a natural mime. She has a great sense of humor and it's a perfect class for me in that we aren't allowed to talk, so it's a real visual experience which is the best way for me to learn ASL as a late-deafened person. One concern I previously had about taking college courses was that so many of them are geared towards interpreters.

Because we don't use our voices in class, I go into "no voice" mode and had not talked once until last Wednesday. Occasionally she does ask for people in the class to interpret what she's signing. It's clear she expects class participation and so--last Wednesday she asked (by pointing) for someone to make up a sentence and for someone else to "interpret." Pretty much the entire class had spoken up at some point. I knew she expected me to particpate. There came a time when no one knew the answer but me. As I've explained in the past, when I'm in ASL mode I really enjoy NOT talking, and I take my hearing aids off in class, so I'm kicking back just enjoying ASL and deafness. At that point when she kept asking if anyone knew the answer, I struggled with this because I knew the answer and no one else did. Very hesitantly I raised my hand and spoke aloud-- for the first time.

Then she signed "again" until I repeated my answer three times. She has never done this to anyone else. I always sit right up front. She's hard-of-hearing/deaf-- I'm not sure which. I don't know if I wasn't speaking loudly enough or if she was having trouble reading my lips, but I was embarrassed. I've become self-conscious of my speech because people have said it has changed and have asked about my "accent." Then when she made me repeat the answer over and over and over I wondered if she didn't understand me because I was talking weird, and if everyone else in the class thought I had weird speech. Finally she signed my interpretation was correct and moved on. She has sort of a teasing way about her, so I'm pretty sure she wasn't doing it to be mean. But it was awkward for me and I'm not sure if I will speak again for the rest of the quarter when she asks someone to "interpret." And I can't talk to her about it because we're only allowed to sign with her. Do I need to reframe my perspective? This is way too complicated to for me to discuss with her partly because I might be over-reacting, and partly because I don't have the ASL vocabulary to clearly express my feelings or concerns about the possibility that my speech might be deteriorating along with my hearing. How convoluted is that?? I mean. . . the irony of it-- I'm in ASL to learn how to talk with my hands and feeling awkward about my voice.

Picture above taken by Wanderlust http://flickr.com/photos/phoebewanders/

Want Happiness??

This article below really inspired me. I've been thinking about happiness a lot lately-- why some people are happy and some are not.

Long ago I took a psychology class in college, and was surprised to learn that winning the lottery didn't increase a person's happiness quotient. Being "handicapped" didn't decrease it either. Most people in my class were surprised to learn this. Many of us had fantasized at least once of winning the lottery. What happens is you get a temporary high from winning and then your brain eventually settles back down into its normal chemical balance -- whatever is normal for you. If you're normally depressed, you'll still become a depressed person later, but you'll be depressed with lots of money. Likewise, if you were happy before losing the use of your legs, you'll be sad for awhile, but eventually the sadness will wear off and you'll become a happy person again.

Last week I came across an article revealing new studies on the habits of optimists and how to achieve happiness. These habits can be learned and can brighten anyone's life within reason. I'm going paraphrase. They were simple habits; 1) talk to a friend each day. 2) make a list of the good things in your life once a week, but no more often than that because you're not being realistic 3) we all make mistakes-- cut yourself some slack and move on-- don't dwell 4) if something makes you angry be proactive in changing the situation. 5) be randomly kind

The random kindness is a tough one. I've found it isn't always appreciated. Sometimes people are suspicious or confused. Sometimes it will get thrown back in your face because someone is angry at the world or suffering with issues you can't possibly know about. A horrible incident happened to me last year when someone misinterpreted my kindness. So be careful with that one, but don't be afraid of being kind, just be aware some people do not want your kindness. Getting involved with organizations is a safe way to go. So I've posted this article below. I thought it was wonderful! Imagine what could be done if everyone started doing stuff like this.

http://www.ajc.com/metro/content/metro/stories/2007/10/07/hands_1007.html

HANDS ON ATLANTA Metro residents get busy helping others By JILL VEJNOSKAThe Atlanta Journal-Constitution Published on: 10/07/07

AND ON THE seventh day, practically nobody rested.
Some 15,000 volunteers fanned out across metro Atlanta early Saturday in what felt like the ultimate humanitarian handyman project. From building picnic tables for developmentally disabled children to painting a mural for refugee families, participants in the 17th annual Hands On Atlanta Day did some good for the do-gooders.

One project simply aimed to brighten somebody's life a bit. Nothing can bring back Kyle Moore, the Washington High School football and academic star who was fatally shot while walking home from a MARTA station in May, but at least his mother, Lynn Carter, could get some much needed painting and landscaping at her Sylvan Hills home.

"I've got plenty of brushes, plenty of paint, and she's lost so much," said William Christensen, a general contractor donating his time.

This week-long wave of organized volunteerism began in Thomas County last Saturday and eventually rippled through all 159 counties: In all, 37,000 volunteers took part in 550 projects during "Hands On Georgia Week."

Ultimately, the hope is that some volunteers will decide one "Day" is not enough.
"It's just like the big white sale in January," said Suzanne Wilson Davis, Hands On Georgia's manager of external affairs. "Everyone's come into the store and seen everything going on. And they want to come back."

Banned Book Week is Over

I meant to blog about banned books last week. Since I work in a library there's probably nothing I'm more passionate about than our right to read whatever we please. Book challenging/burning/banning just . . . really. . . rubs me the wrong way. The only countries I know of that legally allow book censorship are dictatorships run by religious zealots (such as Iran and Afghanistan when it was run by the Taliban) and Communist countries like Cuba and N. Korea and so on. These are not nice places to live.

I'm all for parents putting restrictions on their kids. I don't have a problem with that at all. I respect everyone's right to determine what they find offensive, what they think their children are too immature to read, or too young to understand, and what they do not want in their homes. But I draw the line when others decide what is too offensive for everyone else's home.

Saturday October sixth ended this year's Banned Book Week 2007, and I forgot to mention it because I was too busy this past week. I had blogged about banned books a little bit last August and intended to revisit again. I already listed the most banned books of 2006 and of the past decade. You can find those blogs here: Challenged and Banned Books and The Top Ten.

The American Library Association offers a wonderful resource for learning more about challenged and banned books. I thought it would be nice to list this link where you can download a .pdf file that explains in a little more depth why certain books have been challenged or banned. I know some of you have been interested in this as you've asked me directly. It's called the 2007 Resource Guide. I'm not sure how big it is, so download at your own risk. :-)

Also-- another nifty section in the ALA site is the question/answer page on challenged and banned books. Just go here--ALA Question/Answer page on Banned books and scroll down about 1/4 and you'll find some question links.

I would love to hear from you if you've read a banned book, what your favorite banned book was, and what you liked about it. I have read several on the top 100 list. My favorite has to be Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. I can't imagine why it would have been challenged or banned. I am a big Ken Follet fan and Pillars is unquestionably my favorite book of his. A departure from his usual WWII war or spy/thriller novels, this was about architects building a church during medieval times. I read it several years ago now, and just talking about it tempts me to pick it up again.

And yes. . .I DO know the Bible has been banned all over the world, but it hasn't been banned HERE. The Bible doesn't count as a "banned book" -not here. Sorry. It isn't on the ALA banned books list.

Eugene "Silent" Hairston- Boxer

This week I chose Gene "Silent" Hairston for my Deaf Hero profile. He was born in Harlem in 1930, and became deaf from spinal meningitis when he was only twelve months old. As a child he attended a public "deaf" school, then dropped out in order to take care of his younger brothers and sisters. After working at several odd jobs, he decided to try fighting like his boyhood hero Joe Louis.

Each morning for six months he showed up at the Tremont Fighting Club in the Bronx with a note saying he wanted to fight. At first the owners of the club refused to allow him to fight because of his deafness, but they eventually gave in. He fought so well they decided to train him.

As an amateur Hairston quickly moved up the ranks and won two impressive titles: New York Golden Gloves Champion, 137lb Welterweight Open Division; and Chicago Intercity Golden Gloves (147lb.) Welterweight Champion. He lost only one out of sixty-one amateur bouts. Then he started playing professionally. During his professional boxing career he recorded forty-five wins, twenty-four knock-outs, thirteen losses and five draws, and he went up against some of the toughest Middleweights in the world including Jake LaMotta (aka Raging Bull) who beat him only after ten grueling rounds. He became known as second best in the world. He was quite possibly the only one who could have beat Sugar Ray Robinson, but due to eye injury he had to give up boxing at age twenty-two and never got a chance to fight Sugar Ray.

Though he never asked for special accommodations for his deafness, it was because of Gene "Silent" Hairston that boxing arenas added flashing lights to their ring posts. Other boxers also found the flashing lights helpful, so boxing arenas continued to provide these flashing lights long after Hairston left the ring for good.

Menieres Hell

Today I awoke to a familiar sound-- my husband puking in the toilet. Retching must fall in the 250 hertz range on an audiogram because I can hear it perfectly without hearing aids. 250 hertz is my only normal score. Sometimes I wonder if God preserved just this one frequency so I would always know when he was having a Menieres attack. I'm deaf to most of his speech.

I got out of bed. "Can I get you anything?" I already knew his answer would be no, but he often needs something. He only says no because he wants to be left alone. Our usual routine is I suggest things until he angrily waves me away because I feel so helpless knowing how miserable he is and not being able to do anything. Somehow it doesn't seem right to go about my usual business ignoring him, which is exactly what he wants me to do.

"How about a pillow or blanket?" This is code for 'Are you almost done throwing up?' I don't want to ask outright if he's done, because it's sort of negative. The throwing up phase can last hours and hours. His longest attack so far lasted about eight hours. Though that's not exactly correct, because I'm only talking about the throwing up part of it. People think when I say he had an attack that lasted eight hours, it means eight hours of flu-like symptoms. No, it's not like that.

It's eight hours of throwing up with head in the toilet. What I mean is he cannot move his head away from the toilet for eight long hours. He feels he's going to fly off the edge of the earth if he moves his head or legs or any part of his body. That's vertigo. Your world spins out of control as if you're on a hellish ride at an amusement park. It lasts hours and hours and hours until he collapses. If he weren't so strong he would collapse earlier, and I would need to call 911 so he could be taken to an emergency room, but so far we've been able to avoid that spectacle. Afterwards, he needs to sleep and can have days and days of not feeling 'right' in the head.

Talking makes him throw up. This morning I couln't hear his response to my question about the pillow and blanket because his head was in the toilet and I needed to see his lips.

"Can you sign?" I asked. Sound came from the toilet but no sign from his hands. I assumed he wanted to be left alone and found a quilt to put over his back and shoulders. That's all I could do.

Last Friday he had an attack on his way to work and hadn't shown up by 1pm. Everyone was out searching for him. I took two hours off work to drive his route just in case he had pulled off the road somewhere, and was in need of help. My imagination ran wild with thoughts that maybe he flipped his car due a sudden drop attack. I've heard nightmare stories of this happening. The other worry that kept running through my mind were the similarities between initial onset of a Menieres attack and initial heart attack. What if he thought it was Meneires and pulled off the road, but had a massive heart attack instead? I didn't find him and was frantic by the time I got back to work. Luckily when I arrived a message was waiting that he'd been found in the parking garage of his office. He had been missing for six hours. He had his cell phone, but wasn't thinking clearly, so turned it off and didn't call anyone to let them know where he was.

He's in a deep sleep now. Later today I'll pump him with liquids and he'll bounce back quickly because he's so fit and basically in great health. When he isn't sick he works out two hours a day.

Menieres disease also causes hearing loss. I've told this story to many friends. He is one reason I am sure of God-- but I won't debate religion with anyone. The first time we met, I shook his hand and I got a message he was THE ONE. It was weird because we met at work. He didn't ask me out for months, but I knew the entire time he was going to be my future husband. I even told my mom. It wasn't like I was into him or anything. I didn't know him well enough to be that into him. That's how strange it was.

All these years he has been so patient while I've been losing my hearing. I've heard the complaints from other late-deafened friends-- husbands who wouldn't allow TV captioning, or wouldn't repeat more than twice, and couldn't handle all the hearing loss issues. My husband has been so great about it. NOW he's losing his hearing, and I'm in a position to help him through this. I can't help thinking it was meant to be. US-- I mean. Not the hearing loss. He doesn't deserve this hell.