Not 3D, But Still a Great ‘Story’

3D, or not 3D—that was the question.

Over the weekend, Josie FINALLY got to come visit us.  It was the third time this year we had planned on her coming over; in January we had to cancel at the last minute because Brandt and I caught Swine Flu, and in April we had to cancel when my Aunt Louise passed away. 

Ever since our nearby Big City got Rear Window Captioning last summer, Josie had been wanting to come try it out.  She is hearing-impaired and loves going to see movies, but back in our hometown they only have Open Captioning and she gets tired of waiting the 2 or 3 weeks after a movie is released before it’s offered in OC.  And while I love driving over to see movies with her, it’s not always possible for me to make the long trip back home.

Josie and I have been excited about Toy Story 3 since it was first announced, but the big question was, should we choose to see it captioned, or in 3D?  Josie decided that she would rather see it in 3D, but when I asked Brandt, he voted for captioning:  “Personally, I’d rather know what they’re saying.  We can always see it later in 3D, like we did for Avatar.”  Brandt isn’t a big movie buff (which I hypothesize is because he could never understand them, so he didn’t develop an appreciation for them—just like music), but he was so impressed with Avatar in Rear Window Captioning that we decided to see it a few months later in 3D.  Hard-of-Hearing blogger Megan at Hearing Sparks chose to see Avatar in 3D and reported “hav[ing] trouble hearing the dialogue in quite a few parts.  It's one of the ones I will have to get on DVD just for the subtitles.”  When I told all of this to Josie, she agreed that it would probably be better for her to see the movie captioned first.

Toy Story 3 released on June 18, but Josie couldn’t come over until this past weekend.  I was hopeful that the theater would show the movie captioned for a second week, which it sometimes does with big releases.  They decide their upcoming movie schedules on Tuesdays, so I usually call on Tuesday afternoons to find out which movie will be in RWC.  I was ecstatic when I was told that “Toy Story will be shown for a second week.”  I even asked him to double-check, and he confirmed it.  Brandt and Josie were both excited at the good news, and we invited several of our Deaf/HoH friends to see it with us as well.  It was shaping up to be a great outing.

And then I got the bad news.  The movie theater doesn’t post their official weekend movie schedule until Thursday nights, and when I checked the website, it showed that Grown Ups was going to be captioned for the next week.  I panicked, called the theater, and told the manager that he would have to “do something!!” because I had a group expecting to see Toy Story 3 captioned on Saturday night, one of whom was driving over 2 hours to see it.  He made a few phone calls and didn’t accomplish anything, but promised the regional manager would call me “first-thing in the morning.”  Of course I didn’t get a phone call, and Friday afternoon I called the corporate office asking for “anyone who could possibly help!”  I was almost instantly connected to the regional manager, who hadn’t heard anything about my problem.  Within 5 minutes I had assurance from him that our movie would be captioned and we would be “well taken care of.”

I was a nervous wreck when we got to the theater, prepared to remind the employees to switch out the film and captioning disk.  But instead, as soon as we asked for the RWC reflectors, the manager appeared and told us that everything was all set and ready for us.  I was still nervous when the movie started, still not convinced that it was actually going to be captioned, but when the words popped up in my reflector, I silently clapped in my seat.  The manager and several employees came in throughout the movie to make sure the captioning was still working, and each time they walked by I gave them a thumbs-up.

The movie was incredible—I think everyone in our group (and the rest of the theater) was wiping away tears during the closing credits.  I’m partial to Mr. and Mrs. Potato head (go figure!) but Buttercup the unicorn and Mr. Pricklepants the lederhosen-clad hedgehog might be my new favorite toys.  Josie had mixed feelings about the Rear Window Captioning itself, since it’s hard to shift your focus from the screen to the reflector panel and back, but said it was nice to be able to see a movie without having to wait several weeks for a specific day and time.  The tentative plan is that she’ll come back in November to see the next Harry Potter movie, so Brandt can see it too.

So it all worked out beautifully, and if that employee hadn't misread the schedule to me on Tuesday, we wouldn't have been able to see Toy Story 3 captioned at all.  And now that we know what the dialogue is, I can’t wait to go see it in 3D!

  

Dry & Store & Fiona Apple

Brandt found out on Thursday that his iCom was back from its repairs (I think this is the 5th or 6th repair, but I've honestly lost count), so he had to rush back to the audiology clinic yesterday.  And after waiting over 2 months for the Dry & Store hearing aid dryer, it has finally come in as well (it’s cheaper and readily available on Amazon.com, but his health insurance will only help pay for it if it’s purchased through a doctor’s office).  It was supposed to come in a few weeks ago, but there was some “electrical glitch” in the batch sent out by the company, and they all had to be returned.

He tried out his iPhone and FM system with the new iCom (which was completely rebuilt, again—this time with a stronger neck-loop and updated software) and they worked fine, but music was a different story.  Now, Brandt doesn’t actually like music, but it’s a great way to test his hearing technology because it uses Stereo sound, whereas the other devices use Mono.  His iPhone randomly selected “Across the Universe” from the Pleasantville soundtrack, and his description of what the song sounded like was:

“Finona Apple singing underwater, holding a record player, driving down my parents’ gravel road.”  

I responded, “Wow, that is really specific.”  “It skips,” he explained, “and the sound quality is all messed up.”  The audiologist couldn’t fix it, and Phonak told her that ‘iPhones are the one type of cell phone that don’t handle Stereo sound correctly’ (or something to that effect).  There’s ALWAYS a catch with this technology! 

The reason Brandt got the Dry & Store is because both of his hearing aids have had to be sent back to Phonak and completely replaced in the last few months—and he just got them last July.  His audiologist guessed that maybe they were getting too much moisture in them, and it was shorting out the electrical circuits.  She gave Brandt a ‘passive’ hearing aid dryer last fall, which is simply a little plastic container with a desiccant (drying substance) inside it.  He stored his hearing aids in the container at night, and the desiccant was supposed to dry out the moisture inside the hearing aids.  Then when the white desiccant turned blue, it meant that it was full of moisture and he popped it in the microwave for a few seconds to ‘recharge’ it.  It was easy—and better yet, FREE—but unfortunately it didn’t do enough good.

Brandt’s audiologist follows the “no-pressure salesman” model, which we generally appreciate.  She made sure from the start that Brandt didn’t feel pressured into buying a particular (more expensive) model of hearing aid or other hearing assistive devices, and stressed that she doesn’t make a profit off anything he orders through the clinic.  When our state Vocational Rehabilitation Office offered to pay for Brandt’s FM system, iCom, and the mid-grade model of BTE hearing aids, he wanted to upgrade to the high-end model of hearing aids and pay the difference of $2,000.  His audiologist was very against this and tried to talk him out of it, saying repeatedly that none of her patients had ever been able to tell a difference between the two and that he would just be wasting his money.  He was insistent on the upgrade, and finally she compromised by letting him wear the mid-grade model for a month and then let him try the high-end model for two weeks afterwards.  He ended up preferring the high-end model by leaps and bounds and paid the extra $2,000 to keep them, much to the audiologist’s surprise.

But even with this background knowledge that she didn’t like to ‘pressure’ patients into paying for extra things, we still find it strange that she didn’t recommend Brandt get the Dry & Store much earlier (and even when she recommended it, she still phrased it as more of a suggestion, and apologized profusely that he would have to pay $150 for the machine).  When Brandt opened the box and read all the features, he said, “I should have gotten this when I first got the hearing aids!”  It’s a powerful dryer that pulls the moisture out of the hearing aids, and uses a ‘desiccant brick’ to trap the moisture; they last about 2 months each.  It also has a “UV germicidal lamp” that sanitizes the hearing aids.  The other claims on the box are:

• Removes destructive moisture.
• Hearing aids sound better, last longer.
• Dries ear wax that can interfere with hearing aid function.
• Reduces or eliminates itching and irritated ears.
• Hearing aids operate more efficiently so batteries can last longer.

I’m relieved that the Dry & Store arrived when it did, because the humidity around here is so intense, I was getting worried that Brandt’s hearing aids would short out again from all the moisture.  We can’t say with real certainty that it’s working, but when he took the hearing aids out this morning, all the moisture in the tubes was gone.  So that’s a good sign, at least! 

  

Team CI Evaluation

Today, Brandt got the appointment date for his Cochlear Implant evaluation: July 30.  We’re not really sure what happened, but it took a month after his appointment with Dr. Awesome, where we found out he could get the evaluation, before he got the appointment date; and it’s still another 5 weeks away!  I know something strange must have happened, because Dr. Awesome had told us that the evaluation would be “in about 3 weeks” and that Brandt “could probably be implanted in mid- to late-July.”  But now his initial appointment isn’t until the end of July.  They’re blaming it on an issue with “a new secretary”; I just hope this isn’t a reflection of their Program as a whole.

We received a letter and packet of information from the Cochlear Implant Program a week after the appointment with Dr. Awesome, with a medical questionnaire for Brandt to fill out and return.  The letter began:

“Thank you for your interest in the Cochlear Implant Program.  The Cochlear Implant Team is comprised of a neuro-otologist, an otologist, audiologists, speech/language pathologists, and social workers.  These team members provide a comprehensive evaluation of candidacy for children and adults.  This evaluation is a process that looks at current communication skills, ability to use traditional amplification, and family support and involvement.  Several visits will be required for the evaluation process to be completed.”

Then it listed the 12—yes, a full dozen—people on the CI Team.  I don’t know if we will be meeting with all 12; I assume some of them work only with children and others only with adults, but it wasn’t specified.  I was also surprised that it said several visits were required for the evaluation.  July 30 is the last Friday this summer that Brandt has off of work, so I’m not sure what is going to happen or how long this whole process is going to take…

On the Initial Case History questionnaire that Brandt filled out, its “Hearing History” questions included:

• How old were you when you suspected a hearing loss?
• At what age was your hearing loss identified?
• What were you told was the cause of the hearing loss?
• Has your hearing loss changed since it was first identified?

The “Hearing Aid History” asked:

• At what age did you receive your first hearing aid(s)?
• Have you worn hearing aids continuously since that time?
• Do you currently wear a hearing aid in: Right ear/Left ear/Both/Neither
• What model hearing aid(s) do you wear?
• How old is your current hearing aid(s)?

The enclosed information packet about Cochlear Implants stressed that:

“Social/family factors and personal motivation are clearly the most important determinants of a person’s post-implant performance.  Despite the incredible technology and exponentially expanding experience in using Cochlear Implants, how well the individual performs is largely determined by the family support and personal motivation.”

So I am going to be evaluated as well; evaluated on how good a support system I would be if Brandt were implanted.  I’m not really worried about that part—I’m a certified Hearing Loss Support Specialist!—although the idea of being evaluated makes me feel nervous and defensive; like the panic I get when a cop comes up behind me on the freeway, even though I’m driving the speed limit.

The “new secretary” has e-mailed Brandt several times asking about his employment and health insurance, and presumably she is going to contact his insurance company to find out if they cover Cochlear Implants (he can’t find it anywhere in his policy if they’re covered).  I’m pretty worried about it, though 90% of insurance companies do cover them.  At the very least, I’m prepared for having to go several rounds of them refusing to cover it and us having to submit letters from Dr. Awesome, the Cochlear Implant Team, and an intervention with Advanced Bionics—they have an entire department devoted just to arguing with insurance companies!

  

Wrong “HEADLIGHTS”!

It’s never a dull night at my ASL class!  Our teacher Mary was back from vacation, and had another set of her famous strips of paper.  This time, they were all about describing car problems.  Mary had us stand up in front of the class and describe the problem, and the rest of the class pretended to be “expert mechanics.”  The problems contained a lot of words we didn’t know the signs for, or are just fingerspelled, like ALTERNATOR and BREAKS.  Instead of just fingerspelling them, though, she wanted us to act them out.

My first scenario was, “Your car has a leak somewhere; when it rains, the car floods behind the driver’s seat.”  I didn’t know how to sign LEAK or FLOOD, so I fingerspelled “leak” and tried to act out drips of water falling off my left hand.  For “flood,” I signed WATER and showed it rising up from the ground.  As it turns out, that is the real sign for FLOOD, so I was very excited that I’d figured it out. 

Then my classmate Jessica got up to describe her problem:  the headlights of her car were getting dim.  We had learned the sign for HEADLIGHTS back in Level 2—basically it’s just holding both hands in front of the chest and opening them, to signify the beams of light.  When Jessica sat down, Mary said, “Ok, this is why I have you get up and practice your signing in front of the class; to avoid situations like this where you might embarrass yourself.”  I thought back to what Jessica had signed, wondering what she could have possibly signed accidentally.  She seemed to do a great job, so I couldn’t think of what bodily function or “dirty word” she might have signed.  Mary stood up and demonstrated HEADLIGHTS the way Jessica had signed it, right in front of her chest.  “Ok, what’s wrong with this sign?” she asked us.  We all looked around at each other and shrugged.  “Isn’t that how you sign it?” I asked her.  “Well, if you do it right here, in front of your chest, it looks like you’re talking about a different kind of headlights, if you get my drift,” Mary explained.  We all burst out laughing; Jessica, slightly embarrassed, joked “I’m quite proud of my set of headlights, thank you very much!”

I asked Mary, “So, where do you suggest we place our CAR headlights, then?”  She stood up again and demonstrated.  “I’d put them at about waist-level, that way there’s no confusion about which HEADLIGHTS you’re talking about.”  My second scenario was that one of the headlights on my car had gone out, so I was extra-careful when signing that my HEADLIGHTS were down in front of my waist.

When I got home, I looked up the sign for HEADLIGHTS in my ASL dictionary.  It says to place the hands “in front of the chest,” and the illustration shows it just the way Jessica had signed it.  The model for the illustration is a man, though, and I wonder if they didn’t use a woman on purpose…

  

HR 3101 Goes Nowhere

Last Thursday, I was very excited about the hearing of the House of Representatives Subcommittee on Communications, Technology, and the Internet on the “Twenty-first Century Communications and Video Accessibility Act of 2009” (HR 3101).  The purpose of HR 3101 would be to make telecommunications (including cell phones and Relay services), the Internet (including online videos), and other technologies (including remote controls) more accessible to people with disabilities, particularly Deaf and Blind people.  

The chairman of the House Committee on Energy and Commerce, Henry Waxman (D-CA) started by saying: “It's time to bring Americans with disabilities across the digital divide” and expressed his desire to get the legislation passed this summer, to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act.  Testimony from witnesses included Sergeant Major Jesse Acosta, a war veteran blinded in combat who represented the American Council of the Blind, and Lise Hamlin, a Deaf-Blind woman representing the Hearing Loss Association of America.  Ms. Hamlin stated that “we want an equal opportunity to benefit from advanced communications technologies.”

Representatives from a number of other companies and organizations were also in attendance to show their support of the bill, including:  Apple, AT&T, Panasonic, the Coalition of Organizations for Accessible Technology, the American Association of People with Disabilities, the National Association of the Deaf, the Alexander Graham Bell Association for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing, United Cerebral Palsy, the National Federation of the Blind, the Blinded Veterans’ Association, Caption Action 2, VetsFirst, the Consumer and Governmental Affairs Bureau, the Wireless Telecommunications Bureau, and the Federal Communications Commission’s Disability Rights Office.

Unfortunately, the hearing turned into an ugly case of Republicans attacking Democrats, and in the end nothing was really accomplished at all.  Republicans accused the Democrats in charge of the hearing of “rigging the discussion to favor people with disabilities,” of “creating an emotional setup,” and of “intimidation.”  One Republican representative claimed that he felt “politically slimed” by the Democrats.  Gary Shapiro of the Consumer Electronics Association then blasted HR 3101 with the accusations that it “would not result in more products being accessible or more innovative designs.  Rather, it would result in overly burdensome compliance costs, less variety of products and would hinder United States competitiveness in the global market.”  He also claimed that “mandating universal design is an innovation killer.”

To top it off, Mr. Shapiro criticized the bill in The Washington Times in his op-ed piece entitled “Dems Want to Redesign Your iPhone: Bill Seeks Government Control of Features on Every Internet Device You Use.”  His opening line is:

“Like the look of the new iPhone? Better buy it soon, before the government assumes for itself the power to mandate the features and design of every phone, computer and global positioning system (GPS)—or any other Internet-connected device with a screen.”

WOW.  So now they’re resorting to scare-tactics and partisan blame.  It’s “the Dems” who are going to give The Government unlimited power to take over your iPhone—is he serious?!

Can’t we stay on task here, guys?  This is about making the internet and new technology more accessible to Deaf and Blind people.  Please calm down and stop making everything about Democrats versus Republicans; there are people with disabilities on both sides of the aisle who need and deserve equal access.

   

Best Class EVER

For this week’s ASL class, our teacher Mary is on vacation in Florida and so my Level 1 and 2 teacher, Susanne, was supposed to take over.  When I arrived, though, I found out that Susanne was sick and couldn’t teach, so local interpreter Tom—who taught us ‘bathroom-related signs’ a few weeks ago—was our substitute.  We weren’t sure how this was going to work, because it was a combined class with us (Level 3) and Level 1. 

Tom started by giving us a little background information about himself.  He is a CODA, meaning his parents are Deaf, and has been an ASL interpreter for 35 years.  He doesn’t believe in teaching ASL out of just one book, but says “you should use any and every book available to you” because everyone has a different way of signing, just like Hearing people have different ways of talking.  Then he taught us “Tom’s 3 Rules for Signing”:

1. Don’t fingerspell any faster than you can say a word outloud.
2. Make sure you can see the other person’s eyes.
3. You don’t have to have all 10 fingers (or even a second hand!) to sign.

I knew from this little introduction that it was going to be a fun class.  Tom laid out strips of paper, face-down, on the table at the front of the room and explained that one person would be ‘The Asker’ and another would be ‘The Answerer.’  The Asker takes a strip of paper and signs the question to The Answerer, then The Answerer picks a strip of paper and becomes The Asker.  My Level 3 classmates and I exchanged nervous glances, but the Level 1 students looked terrified.  “But we just started learning Sign!” they protested.  “How are we supposed to do this, all I know how to say is ‘Nice to meet you!’” the lady sitting next to me said.  “Don’t worry, this is the time to screw it up!  Just fingerspell what you don’t know the sign for, or act it out.  Then we’ll analyze it until we puke, and we’ll start again!” Tom answered.

The Level 1 students were eager to try it, much to my surprise.  The first question was, “How much is that doggie in the window?” but the girl only knew the sign for WINDOW.  The rest of it she tried, unsuccessfully, to fingerspell; but she gave it a valiant effort.  I was nervous going up there for my turn, but at least I had 2 previous semesters of experience under my belt. 

Unintentionally, I only got paired up with other students from Level 3, so I had an easier time both asking and answering the questions.  I was asked, “What is your zip code?”, which was easy.  As ‘Asker’ I had the question: “9/11 was awful, how many people died in that disaster?”  I looked at Tom with disgust and said, “Ew, can I pick a less morbid one??”  He wouldn’t let me.  My ‘Answerer’ had a little trouble, mainly because the sign for “9” and “F” are exactly the same (I should have signed “SEPTEMBER 11” instead of “9-11”) but she got it on the second try.  Later I had to ask for paper with 3 holes in it (I didn’t know the sign for “HOLES” so I used the same handshape as BUTTONS, which Tom said was a good idea), and “How many miles is it from here to Chicago?” (which should have been easy but I spelled it “C-H-I-C-A-H-O” and made Tom laugh).  The other questions I had to answer were “Who is that man over there?” and “How many people are in our class tonight?”; I aced them both.

During our break, my classmate Jessica and I jokingly asked Tom if he was going to teach us any more “dirty words.”  When he taught us the ‘bathroom signs’ a few weeks ago, he had said, “You have to learn the dirty words, so you don’t accidentally say them when you think you’re signing something else!”  He said he would teach us some at the end of class, but I thought he was kidding.  He wasn’t.

With about 15 minutes left, Tom announced, “Ok guys, it’s time to learn some dirty words!  If you think you might get offended, please go ahead and leave the class.  I’m not doing this to be shocking, but I do think it’s important for you to learn these.  That way, you’ll know what they are if someone says them to you, and you’ll be careful not to confuse them with a similar sign.”  I figured he was going to teach us words like HELL and DAMN, but he went way beyond those and taught us George Carlin’s “The 7 Words You Can’t Say on Television.” (Don’t worry, I won’t list them—just be extra-careful when signing “TRIANGLE” that your fingers are pointing up, not down!) 

No one in the class got up to leave.  We were all doubled over laughing so hard, I could barely catch my breath enough to whisper to Jessica, “This is the best class EVER!”

  

Shopping Trip Back Home

We’re back from another trip to my hometown (2 hours away) to pick up Brandt’s repaired hearing aid.  He has now had both hearing aids completely rebuilt in less than a year!  His iCom was sent off for repairs (the fifth time) and he was given a loaner.  Then in 6 weeks, Phonak is going to give him their new, updated and upgraded version of the iCom for free—that was the good news.  The bad news was that his Dry and Store hearing aid dryer still hasn’t arrived, 2 months after the clinic ordered it, because there were electronic glitches in the current batch of dryers that have to be repaired.  It’s ALWAYS something!

My mom’s apartment is getting renovated, and she needed help recycling her old computer and picking out a new kitchen light.  That meant a trip to her two least favorite places, Best Buy and Lowe’s, which she calls “big, loud stores for men.” 

Brandt lugged the computer into Best Buy and asked the employee guarding the entrance/exit where the recycling program was.  He pointed us over to Customer Service, and Brandt headed towards it.  He got about 5 feet away when the employee remembered that he needed a sticker for the computer, and yelled at Brandt, which went unheard.  “Sir!  You need a sticker for that computer!” he yelled louder.  No response.  “SIR!” he screamed.  “He can’t hear you!” I said.  I ran over to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and told him he had to go back and get a sticker.  “Why didn’t he tell me that?” Brandt asked.

After unsuccessfully trying to talk my mom into buying a Nintendo Wii and Wii Fit, we headed off to Lowe’s, remembering that we needed a new thermostat for our house in addition to mom’s kitchen light.  There were employees standing at the end of almost every aisle, and each one asked Brandt if he needed help finding anything.  The problem with this was, the store is noisy, with near-constant loudspeakers, paint shakers, lumber cutters, and all the other loud machines whose names and functions I don’t know.  And the tall ceilings and concrete floors certainly don’t help with the acoustics. 

So when Brandt walked by all these helpful employees, he was on a mission to find the thermostats and not paying attention to them.  This means that as he walked through the store, four employees in a row asked if he needed help, and he only responded to one.  The last one looked rather insulted.  My mom and I were walking a few feet behind Brandt pushing the cart, and when the accidental snub happened, the Lowe’s guy looked at me expectantly.  I pointed to my ear, shook my head, and whispered, “He can’t hear you…”  He looked a little embarrassed and nodded, then asked if we needed help finding anything.  By then, two more employees had been ‘ignored’ and I hurried to catch up.

We got to Aisle 15 and there were no thermostats to be found.  “They’re supposed to be on Aisle 15, why aren’t they here?” Brandt asked.  “Are you sure they’re on Aisle 15?” I said.  “That’s what the guy told me back there!”  “Are you sure he said 15?” I asked.  Mom and I had been talking and hadn’t heard him ask anyone.  “I am positive,” he insisted.  Almost immediately, another employee showed up to help, and told us the thermostats were on Aisle 16.  I know it’s possible that the employee told him the wrong aisle, but I have a feeling the problem was with his ears.

Brandt went through the checkout line first, and said he would go get the car cooled off.  As he walked through the exit, he set off the electronic security alarm.  It flashed and beeped, but he had already walked through it and didn’t see or hear it.  Mom was still paying for her light, and we were at least 30 feet away from the exit.  I watched, waiting for someone to politely tap him on the shoulder.  Instead, the employee standing at the self-checkout in front of the exit starting yelling at Brandt to stop, and when he didn’t, the guy called over two other employees.  “Who was it?!” one of them asked.  Several people pointed towards Brandt, and one lady yelled, “The man in the blue shirt!  He just kept walking!”  The three employees all took turns yelling “Sir!  Stop!  You in the blue shirt!  STOP!” 

I was already on my way towards the door, and starting yelling, “Hold on, he’s deaf, I’ll get him!”  They ignored me and kept screaming at him.  “He’s DEAF!  I’ll get him!  He can’t hear you!” I yelled again.  As I walked through the exit, two of the employees started to go after Brandt.  I started running, yelled “HE CAN’T HEAR YOU, I WILL GET HIM!”, and grabbed Brandt by the arm.  He swirled around and asked “What’s wrong?!”, confused at why two employees were running towards him in a panic.  I told him he’d set off the alarm and had to go back inside.  “But, I paid for it,” he said.  “I know, but the alarm got triggered.  Just let them look at the receipt.”  The employees apologized and let him go without any trouble, but there were a dozen pairs of eyes staring widely at us as we walked out of the store.  I really wanted to snap at them, but I stayed silent.

As we walked to the car, my mom whispered to me, “What if that happened with the police?”  I whispered back, “I’m worried about that.  I’ve heard of several cases where Deaf people were tasered and beaten by cops who thought they were resisting arrest.”

It’s times like these that I wish Brandt already had Cochlear Implants...

   

More Books for Philly

With less than a month before my trip to Philadelphia for the National Association of the Deaf conference, and several books still sitting on my desk waiting to be read, I’ve started to panic about what books I’m going to take with me.

When I first started learning American Sign Language, I got the books Talking With Your Hands, Listening With Your Eyes and Signing Illustrated.  They are both wonderful books, and I’ve learned a lot from them—but now I know most of the signs in them.  I also got a pocket-sized version of the latter book, The Pocket Dictionary of Signing, which I always take with me to class and any time I’m around Deaf signers.  As great as that little book is, I’ve found that it just doesn’t have enough of the words that I need to look up.

So for Christmas, I asked for the Unabridged American Sign Language Dictionary (a geeky request, I know!) and I have LOVED it.  It has 5600 signs, 1200 pages, a sturdy hardback cover, and weighs a whopping 3.2 pounds.  I refer to it at least once a day, as either Brandt or I ask, “What’s the sign for____?” and I immediately run off to consult it.  Its size and weight, unfortunately, keep it confined to my desk in the living room.  And I have recently realized—and started panicking over—there is no way I can take it with me to Philadelphia and carry it around with me all the time.

The solution, I think, is the paperback “Compact Edition” of the dictionary, which has 4500 signs (only 1100 less than the unabridged version), 600 pages (HALF the unabridged version), and only weighs 1.7 pounds.  A lady in my ASL class always brings hers and has never complained about it being too heavy or cumbersome, so I think I'll be fine carrying it around in my NAD totebag.

And as an added bonus, when I was reading reviews for the dictionary, I discovered The American Sign Language Phrase Book.  How could I not know that there was an ASL phrase book??  It has more than 500 phrases in ASL grammar on topics including health, family, school, sports, travel, religion, time, money, food and drink, small talk, the Internet, and Deaf Video Relay.  The selling point for me is the chapter on communicating about signing: “asking people to sign slower, indicating your fingerspelling ability, and requesting help with your fledgling skills.”

I only wish I had discovered this phrase book sooner, but at least it will keep me occupied in the airport and on the plane to Philly!

   

Noisy Kitchen

Can a girl get some quiet around here?!

My head and ears have been pounding all week from the thunderstorms that keep rolling through, so I haven’t felt like emptying the dishwasher.  It finally had to be done tonight, as the dirty dishes were stacked up and we didn’t have any clean plates or silverware left in the cabinets.  Brandt was in the kitchen making dinner, so I dragged my aching head in there to work on it.

He was listening to his iPod through earphones instead of his usual iCom, since we still haven’t gotten his repaired hearing aid back (it’s been 3 weeks).  I heard a strange shrieking noise, which at first I thought was coming through his earphones.  He paused the iPod, and watched with confusion as I ran around the kitchen, turning my head from one side to the other, trying to find the source of the noise.  Finally I found it—his hearing aids were sitting on the kitchen table and he hadn’t turned one of them off, so it was shrieking from the feedback.

When I started unloading the dishwasher, carefully and quietly, Brandt ran over to help.  “No, no!  I got it!” I insisted.  “But, I want to help!” he said sweetly.  “I know, and I appreciate it, but I got it!” I insisted harder.  The problem is, Brandt doesn’t realize just how LOUD dishes and silverware can be when they’re getting put away, and with my headache I knew I couldn’t take all that noise.  I like being in control of the dishes so I can gently put them up.

Here is Deaf cartoonist Matt Daigle’s take on the situation:

When we first moved into our house, Brandt used to wake me up just about every morning when he got out his cereal bowl.  Even through my earplugs, I could hear (and feel) the SLAM! of the kitchen cabinets, which share the same wall as the master bedroom.  Finally I’d had enough and moved the bed to other side of the room, and the cabinets don’t bother me anymore.

Back to tonight:  we were about to sit down to eat, when I heard Cupcake meowing loudly.  At first I figured she was just mad that I hadn’t offered her any of our roasted chicken and ignored her.  But she kept getting louder and more insistent, and it seemed odd that she wasn’t actually in the kitchen meowing for chicken.  I asked, “Cupcake?  Where are you?”  She loudly responded.  It sounded like she was in the hallway, so I ran to the back of the house.  No cat.  Now it sounded like she was in the living room, so I ran back.  Still no cat; and now the meows sounded painful.  Brandt again took out his earphones and looked at me with a very confused expression as I ran around the kitchen, meowing back, and yelling, “Where are you?  Where are you?!”  He opened the pantry to get some chips, and out ran a very distraught little cat.  Apparently she had gone snooping while he was making dinner, and he’d accidentally locked her in there. 

After dinner, I plopped down on the couch and prepared for a few minutes of blissful silence.  A big clap of thunder immediately shook the house, and it started pouring down rain.  I give up!
  

“AND ANTI-POLL GIFT”

I haven’t blogged yet about the mistakes made on television Closed-Captioning, but it happens a lot.  I’ve been writing down my favorite mistakes for a few years now, something I learned from Aunt Louise.  Many many years ago, she kept a notebook next to the television and would write down the funniest errors, but there were so many she finally gave up on keeping a list.

Tonight I was watching The Daily Show, and perked up when Jon Stewart announced that his guest was Spencer Wells, “a Geneticist and an Anthropologist, he’s the Explorer-in-Residence with the National Geographic Society and his new book is called Pandora’s Seed: The Unforeseen Cost of Civilization.”  Since I am an Anthropologist as well, I’m always excited to see ‘our kind’ on television.  Unfortunately, the transcriptionist for Daily Show has trouble with our profession.

The Closed-Captioning (it’s always in ALL-CAPS) introduced Dr. Wells as:

“A DBA NET SIFT AND AND ANTI-POLL GIFT.” 

It was slightly corrected on the next line: “HE IS AN THE ANTHROPOLOGIST,” but it still left out Geneticist and Explorer-in-Residence. 

I know it’s not the transcriptionist’s fault.  Closed-Captioning on television, as well as CART Reporting—Communication Access Realtime Translation—is live (realtime) captioning performed on a stenotype machine.  The transcriptionist does not type in words, but rather syllables that are then translated by a computer program into words.  So if you ever notice that the Closed-Captioning mistakes seem strangely phonetic, it’s because that’s how they were entered!

This wasn’t the first time that my field-of-study was displayed incorrectly on The Daily Show.  Last year, Peter Mancall was on the show promoting his new book Fatal Journey: The Final Expedition of Henry Hudson; he was introduced as a professor of History and “AND TROA POLL DBI.”

Most of the time, the Closed-Captioning mistakes aren’t too bad and can be deciphered.  When Lorelei on Gilmore Girls yells that she is “out of dog TATS” instead of dog treats, you could probably figure it out.  Same with Gary on Early Edition insisting that he loves his “PANTS” instead of his parents—in the context, he was in the middle of talking about his parents, so it’s pretty easy to catch the mistake.

Then there are times when the mistake is extremely confusing.  A few weeks ago, Brandt and I were watching the season finale of How I Met Your Mother, one of our favorite shows.  Lily and Marshall were discussing a cab driver they’d just seen who looked exactly like their friend Barney.  According to the captioning, Lily said,

“The CABBAGES didn’t look enough like Barney.”

Brandt looked at me, confused, and I paused the show.  “Cabbages?  What do cabbages have to do with Barney?” he asked.  “I have no idea…” I said, equally confused.  It really did sound like she’d said “cabbages.”  I hit rewind, listened to it a few times, and finally yelled, “The cabbie just didn’t look enough like Barney”!

Phonetically, it was close.  Logically, it was way off.

  

But He’s My Sister!

Tonight in my ASL class, we practiced how to ask permission and request to borrow things.  Our teacher, Mary, cut out slips of paper with scenarios to act out, and we each had to choose one.  Mine said, “Your washing machine has broken down.  Ask your sister, who lives nearby, if you can borrow hers.” 

I had the easiest scenario, by far, and I got to go last, so I had time to learn from my classmates’ mistakes.  The first lady needed coins for a parking meter, but only had a $20 bill and needed to borrow $1 in quarters.  Another lady was in a restaurant and kept bumping elbows with the left-handed person next to her, and needed to switch places.  The only man in our class, Steve, was at the library and needed to borrow an umbrella because it was raining.  But he couldn’t remember the sign for LIBRARY, so he tried signing “BOOK-BORROW-HOUSE.”  Mary demonstrated how everyone could have asked their requests better, and made them re-sign it.  I was pretty nervous when it was finally my turn.

I signed to Steve, even though I was supposed to be asking “my sister.”  I remembered to give details about what my problem was and why I needed to make a request to this specific person.  I said, “MY WASHING-MACHINE BREAK.  YOU LIVE CLOSE, DON’T-MIND I USE YOUR WASHING-MACHINE.”  Mary told me that the only thing I did wrong was not adding a QUESTION-MARK at the end to show that it was a question, and she didn’t make me re-sign it.  She jokingly told Steve, “You should say, ‘SURE, BUT YOU HAVE-TO PAY TO USE MY WASHING-MACHINE,’” which he repeated.

I looked hurt and signed back,

“BUT, YOU[’RE] MY SISTER!”

Steve laughed and said, “Not until after the operation!”

Every week, I love this class more and more.  And when I got home, about 15 minutes early, my Hearing Cat, Cupcake, was standing on the arm of the couch waiting for me.  Brandt was sitting in his recliner, so he knew I was home thanks to Cupcake’s ‘alert’:

One Month til Philly

In just 30 days, I will be at the National Association of the Deaf’s 50th biennial conference in Philadelphia!  As I previously posted, my Grandma Jean made the incredible offer of funding my entire trip, so all I’ve had to worry about is reading up on Deaf Culture, practicing my ASL, and deciding what workshops I’m going to attend.

I’m two-thirds through with reading A Journey into the DEAF-WORLD, halfway through Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language: Hereditary Deafness on Martha’s Vineyard, and yet to start A Place of Their Own: Creating the Deaf Community in America.  Still a lot of reading to do!

The list of workshops is up, and I’m really excited about a lot of them.  I have a Graduate Certificate in Public Health, so I’ll definitely be attending “Working with the Deaf Community in Public Health Research,” and I would like to learn more about being an advocate, so I’ll probably go to “Leading a Successful Advocacy Campaign.”  I’ll also attend workshops on Newborn Hearing Screenings, Deaf civil rights, ASL, and Deaf Culture. 

Unfortunately, the two workshops I most want to attend are being held at the same time: “Advocating for the 21st Century Communications and Video Accessibility Act,” and “Deaf Babies’ and Children’s Human Rights to ASL and English” by The Deaf Bilingual Coalition.  Both of these issues are very important to me, so it’s going to be a very tough decision to pick just one.

The NAD has posted a signed and captioned video of some of the sights around Philadelphia—it’s great practice for watching Deaf people communicating in ASL:

Roger Ebert Learning ASL

Legendary film critic Roger Ebert lost his ability to speak in 2005 after undergoing surgery for jaw cancer [warning: the picture is rather shocking].  A few weeks ago, he shared in his journal entry “Why I'll be Learning Sign Language” that “After spending a couple of years avoiding sign language, I received this message from James Mottern, the director of "Trucker," which told me things I needed to hear.”

Mr. Mottern’s three daughters are learning Sign Language and he has been learning it with them, through the children’s video series Signing Time with Alex and Leah.  He felt the need to write Mr. Ebert a letter after learning that Roger expressly did not want to learn it, and hoped to change his mind:  

“...I am here to tell you that sign language is one of the most incredibly enjoyable forms of communication I have ever experienced.  Smoke I do not blow, Roger.  In sign language you can express yourself in ways that you had but hoped to be able to do through spoken language—or even the written word.  The emotionality, heart and spirit that can be conveyed in this manner has been an inspiration to me to becoming more open and sincere in my everyday life.  With words you can lie.  But in sign language you wear your heart on your sleeve—just about literally.  In sign language it is nearly impossible to betray your feelings to others.  There is a purity and beauty to it that, I am not kidding, will bring a tear to one's eye.  In sign language your hands and your eyes and your body language can convey thoughts so viscerally that it registers in the brain in some ways the same as film; I mean it.

“And I am telling you this as a truth: although I am still not very good at it, sign language has brought me closer to my family.  And beyond that, I truly feel it has made me a better writer! ...[I]n my opinion, beyond film itself, sign language is the MOST CINEMATIC form of communication.  It is dramatic, funny, tragic, illuminating, nuanced, and, yes, at times even embarrassing.  If sign language could have a filmic format it would be 70mm Technicolor and viewed at the Cinerama Dome!”

The comments are all very positive and supportive, and I recommend skimming over them.  My favorite is from Deaf actress Marlee Matlin:

“Roger, Next time you're in LA or I am in Chicago, I would love to give you a sign language lesson.  I've always cherished your kind words about my work all the way back to "Children Of A Lesser God" and I recall with fondness how welcoming you and Gene were when I entered the business.  I would be more than happy to return the favor, pay it forward to YOU and teach you some of this most beautiful language of sign.”

He replied:

“Marlee, that would be like [Maria] Callas teaching me about opera.  The times we've been together I've been struck by how warmly and easily you communicate.  I have the advantage of being able to hear. I should be ashamed of myself.  Mottern's letter and these comments have gotten me all worked up.”

Good luck, Mr. Ebert!  Learning ASL has been a fun and rewarding experience for me; I only wish I could describe it as eloquently as Mr. Mottern has done.

  

New Blog Feature

Since I’m still new to this whole blogging thing, and currently have about 10 readers (hi everybody!), I’ve decided to add a new feature to this blog.  It’s called “Reactions,” and it allows you, the reader, to click on a selection of reactions to the blog posts.  You can choose funny, cool, sad, and blah—click all that apply (they are located at the bottom of the post, underneath “Labels”). 

Your reactions are anonymous, so please be honest (if it's too long or boring, tell me "blah"!)  This will give me feedback on what you think of my posts, so I can adjust my topics and style more to your liking.

Our ‘Hearing Cat’

You are no doubt familiar with Seeing-Eye Dogs, which are guide dogs used by blind people to help them get around more easily.  You might have even heard of Seeing-Eye Ponies (or “Guide Horses”) and Helper Monkeys, too.  But did you know that there are Hearing Dogs used by Deaf people?

I didn’t know that Hearing Dogs existed until the Hearing Loss Association of America convention last summer.  There, Brandt and I saw over a dozen Hearing Dogs, wearing their orange vests, ranging from a tiny Pomeranian to a large Golden Retriever.  I then learned a lot more about Hearing Dogs in my Hearing Loss Support Specialist certification class.

  

Hearing Dogs are trained to alert their Deaf or Hard-of-Hearing owner to a number of sounds including smoke alarms, doorbells, ringing telephones, alarm clocks, sirens, and someone calling the owner’s name.  It costs about $25,000 to select, care for, train, and follow-up with a Hearing Dog, but the owner only has to pay a $50 application fee.  Since the HLAA convention, I have met several people who have gained confidence in venturing out in the world since losing their hearing, thanks to their furry Hearing companion.

Brandt and I aren’t really dog people, so he’s not planning on getting a Hearing Dog.  Unfortunately cats aren’t trainable to alert their owners to specific sounds, but our kitty, Cupcake, does alert Brandt to one thing—she lets him know when I get home. 

Our living room is off to the right when you walk in the house from the garage, and the couch is on the inside wall of the garage.  When I get home from ASL class, the grocery store, etc., Cupcake will jump up on the arm of the couch and start meowing at the door to the garage.  Even with his hearing aids in, Brandt can’t hear the garage door going up, but Cupcake sure can.  This is a relatively new trick that she has developed, but she has been very consistent with it since she started doing it last year.  It’s not as helpful as alerting him to the smoke alarm or having his name called, but, it keeps him from jumping out of his skin when I burst through the door unexpectedly. 

I don’t have a picture yet of Cupcake in her “Mommy’s home!!” position, but here’s one of her sitting on the other arm of the couch, next to Brandt’s recliner.  She was mad that my cereal bowl was in her way, so she put her tummy in the bowl and laid down anyway:

Frank Talk

**This post might be gross to some readers.  I apologize if you are offended or disgusted by it and hope you won’t hold it against me!

I don’t have my ASL class this week because of Memorial Day, so I’m going to share a story from last week’s class.  We started learning about ailments and medical conditions, like HEADACHE, ITCHY, VOMIT, DIZZY, etc.  [a gloss is basically the English translation of an ASL sign, and is written in ALL-CAPS.  So when I write a word in ALL-CAPS, that means it represents a sign in ASL.]

A big part of Deaf Culture is frank talk.  Deaf people don’t sugar-coat things, they give their opinions openly and honestly.  It isn’t meant to be insulting, it is just a facet of their culture’s communication.  If a Deaf person is late, they are expected to give a lengthy description of why.  You can’t just say, “Sorry I’m late,” you need to give a better excuse.  If a Deaf person has to leave early, the same goes—give details.  And when Deaf people excuse themselves, oftentimes they don’t say “I’m going to the bathroom,” they say they’re going to go PEE.  Details.

So when our teacher Mary was going over the lesson, she had to make sure that we understood the difference between the signs POOP, DIARRHEA, and CONSTIPATED.  There was a lot of uncomfortable giggling and several red faces, which intensified when she and Tom, a local interpreter who had stopped by to visit our class, disagreed over the correct sign for FART.

As she dismissed us at the end of class, Mary asked,

“So is everyone good with their POOP now?” 

And on that note, here’s a comic from my new favorite comic strip, That Deaf Guy, by Deaf artist Matt Daigle: