This month’s issue of Chicago Parent magazine has several articles on parenting deaf and hard of hearing children:
I would have liked to see Illinois Hands & Voices included as a resource in this article. Looks like we’ll need more publicity so that every parent in Illinois can know about us.
I love magazines. Correction, the hubby and I love magazines. We have piles and piles of magazines in our house and I’ve actually cut back on the subscriptions that we used to get.
It just dawned on me that I no longer read parenting magazines anymore. When my first child was born, I subscribed to Parents and American Baby. By the time the third child came along (born at home), I was digging into Mothering magazine instead.
Last week, while waiting for my teenager to get his hair trimmed, I thumbed through a couple of different parenting magazines. I remembered the days of trying to get some sleep throughout the night, the huge diaper bag filled with everything under the sun and the countless days of playing “Hunt for the Binky.” I can remember turning to my parenting magazines to help me get through the ups and downs of motherhood.
I find myself on “the other side” as I guide some of my friends through their mothering days with their first babies. These are the gals who have finally become mothers late in life. And just as I did years ago, I see the same parenting magazines lying on their coffee tables.
Note: This is a re-post which includes information on how to purchase the film, Sound and Fury, Six Years Later.
When Sound and Fury
I saw the movie in Chicago at a film festival with a friend. Never before had I experience a movie that was so raw and up close about the decisions that parents make when raising deaf and hard of hearing children.
Sound and Fury often stayed on my mind, so about a year ago, I decided to get in touch with both families and find out how they were doing. I learned that all of the deaf members of the Artinian family had obtained a cochlear implant, with the exception of Peter. You can read the article here: Sound & Fury: A Family Comes Together Again.
Josh Aronson, the director of the film, has now released a new film: Sound & Fury, Six Years Later. Heather Artinian obtained an implant at the age of nine and the film chronicles her life as a teen. For more information on how to obtain the film, contact Mr. Aronson at: aronsonfilms@aol.com.
On another note, the youngest child to receive an implant is three months old: Music to the Ears.
If you are interested in obtaining a copy of the film, contact Josh Aronson at: Aronsonfilms@aol.com. For schools and libraries, contact: linda@filmakers.com or lbK@aquariusproductions.com.
Sixty five years ago, on January 23, 1944, my father arrived in the Pacific and began his journey as a United States Marine in World War II. He fought in Guam and Okinawa and then the Occupation of China. He was overseas for two years.
As a child, I used to look through my mother’s hope chest and finger the rough wool of his Marine jacket. It wasn’t until many years later, that he would share stories about the war. He told of trudging through fields and being so hungry that when they came across a potato field, the guys feasted on the raw potatoes. He recalled the time that he sneaked out to the PX to purchase an ice cream bar, only to hear his commandeer hollering his name. He quickly hid the ice cream bar in his pants pocket only to have to dig out a melted mess a few minutes later.
Many of the war memories were rough ones, and it was difficult for him to share the horror of what he endured.
One summer, the power went out during a storm while my parents were on a trip. They came home and had to clean out a freezer full of meat. The stench, said my dad, reminded him of the war.
Today, my father is in his eighties and has been retired for several years. My oldest brother is also a Marine and he served in Vietnam. The two of them have a special bond–Marine buddies who have shared a piece of history.
Ellen Roth, a Chicago area resident, had her story published in the Oprah magazine
A few nights ago, the hubby was flipping through channels and he came across Stunt Junkies, a program on the Discovery channel. The episode featured Scott Ellis, who was attempting to break a waterskiing jump record by jumping over more than fourteen boats.
As I watched Scott break the record by jumping over a total of nineteen boats, I started thinking back to my own waterskiing days on Christie Lake. I had always dreamed of skiing in shows such as the ones held at Tommy Barlett’s or Cypress Gardens but I didn’t have the guts to follow the dreams.
The summer that I turned sixteen, I decided that I would learn how to barefoot–to waterski on my own bare feet. At first, I tried using a waterski and kicking off the ski, but I found myself hitting the water face first. After too many face slams, I decided there had to be a better way. So thumbed through the pages of a barefooting book
After a couple of days of trying, I finally planted my feet in the water and stood up. The kneeboard fell away and I suddenly found myself barefooting. I didn’t get very far, perhaps a few hundred feet. As I climbed into the boat, I learned that my friend Michele had the throttle wide open and the boat was moving at 39 mph instead of the 33 mph that we were aiming for. No wonder my feet were burning on such a short run.
For the next three years after that, I waterskied and barefooted every chance that I could. I often barefooted with the other guys on the lake, competing to see who could make it all the way around the lake. One of the guys taught me to do a deepwater start which involved wrapping my feet around the rope, gliding on my back and then getting up on my bare feet.
I have to thank my parents for all the gas they bought– some days we skied up to eight times a day. 
I’m now in my early forties and I haven’t barefooted in several years. My only consolation is that no other girl/woman on Christie Lake has successfully barefooted, so I still hold the title of the sole woman barefooter. My goal is to get back into barefooting– especially after seeing Scott Ellis jump a couple of boats. He’s got the same amount of gray hair that I do.
But for some real inspiration, check out Banana George–he’s 91 years old and still footin!
Mark Drolsbaugh, author of Deaf Again and Anything But Silent
The stories (I have contributed mine in this book) and poems contributed by thirty-seven writers show a variety of experiences including what it is like to be “on the fence”–between people who are cuturally Deaf and people with normal hearing.
“Living with even just a little hearing loss,” writes Mark in the book, “is without a doubt one of the most invisible, forgotten, isolating, and misunderstood life experiences which humans can go through. It is as if life slams a glass door in the face of hard of hearing people, putting them in a situation where they can see life happening around them but have little chance to participate.”
I experienced my own “on the fence” period when I first transferred to Northern Illinois University. I grew up hard of hearing, with no knowledge of American Sign Language or contact with the deaf community. The summer before I transferred, I became profoundly deaf. At Northern, I was surrounded by many students who were deaf and hard of hearing and began to learn ASL. So for a while there, I tried to figure out who I was and where I fit in.
Today, some people percieve me as being “on the fence” as a hard of hearing person. Some say I’m deaf, others say I’m Deaf. It’s a matter of perspective and where the person is coming from.
The way I see it, everyone without hearing in the normal range is in this together. Diversity is a good thing.
So grab your copy of On The Fence here and check out the variety of perspectives and stories.
It’s a new year and with every new year, I’m always determined to make some positive changes. I always have the same vows: I will take control of the messes in my house, learn to effectively use my time and sculpt my body in the likeness of Christie Brinkley’s.
The same resolutions keep popping up year after year. I guess I’m not very effective at accomplishing them. However, the Putz household experienced a rare phenomenon recently. Take a look:
Yes, I managed to discover the bottom of the sink. It was a startling sight to see it empty. One of the tips at Flylady.com is to accomplish this very feat each day. The idea is that you will clean your sink, go to bed with a sense of accomplishment and wake up the next morning with a shining sink.
Ah, but I overlooked some very critical information in her Babysteps suggestion about the sink: you have to train everyone else in the household to embrace shiny sinks.
I forgot to notify everyone else in the Putz household of the importance of shiny sinks. Silly me.
So I woke up to half of the contents of my kitchen cabinets piled in the sink, courtesy of five kids and a 22-year old niece.
And it’s only 8:30 a.m.
Let the training begin.
My friend Lisa works at Jewel Food Stores as a cashier. She was born profoundly deaf but was able to benefit from hearing aids while growing up. Two years ago, her ability to use her hearing aids suddenly stopped and she obtained a cochlear implant. She is slowly learning to use the phone again but the majority of her communication understanding comes via lipreading/speechreading.
She started at Jewel bagging groceries and within a short time, she was promoted to cashier. She wears a nameplate that lets customers know that they must face her when speaking.
One day, she had a tall customer with white hair who looked remarkably like Cruella, the mean lady from 101 Dalmations. The customer asked for cash back in the amount of just a dollar. “I thought that was odd,” said Lisa. “Usually people ask for ten or twenty dollar amounts.”
As she finished ringing up the sale, the customer looked at Lisa and demanded her book of stamps.
Lisa apologized for missing her request, explaining that she was deaf and didn’t hear her.
“Then why are you working here?” the customer said loudly.
Lisa stared at her in shock, but quickly recovered.
“Excuse me, lady!” she shot back. “That’s discrimination! I worked my way up and I deserve this job!”
After “Cruella” took off, the customer behind her remarked, “I can’t believe there are still some people like that!”
Needless to say, “Cruella” no longer gets in Lisa’s line when she does her weekly shopping.
Twice in the last several weeks, I have volunteered my time at the local Bingo hall. In exchange for my time selling tickets, I received a discount on my daughter’s volleyball team fee.
There were about sixty people in attendance and from 5:30 to 9 p.m., my job was to walk around the room and sell tickets for various games and raffles. Many of the people who were at my first session were also at the second session, several weeks apart. Apparently Bingo is quite entertaining to these folks.
The tickets were simple enough at first. Each ticket sold for a dollar. As I walked around the room, people would either ask, “I’d like some tickets” or they would motion for me to come over. What I wasn’t aware of, was that each ticket had different strategies for winning. For example, a “B row” ticket had to turn up the numbers seven and eleven to win. “Treasure Island” required a two in the first number to win. Apparently this was explained while I was hanging up my coat and putting on my Bingo apron.
I quickly learned that I was missing some information the first time someone asked, “What’s the numbers?” Since I had no clue what was being asked, I didn’t understand the question and asked the person to repeat it, explaining that I was deaf. “What numbers am I looking for to win?” she grumbled. I had to quickly scramble to gather the information and figure out what I was supposed to know.
Bingo is serious business. A large amount of money is spent among just a few participants. Many of the regulars brought in colored Bingo bottles to stamp their cards with, often carried in a round Bingo bag with a slot for each bottle. One lady actually had a small bag on wheels. A few patrons display lucky charms to increase their luck. Some of the older folks brought in their dinner and read the newspaper in between games. One couple played cards while simultaneously stamping their Bingo cards– talk about multi-tasking!
It was interesting dealing with so many different people. Most of time, selling the tickets went without incident as I was able to lipread the majority of the requests. If I didn’t understand the amount, I would look at the amount of money being tossed over and then confirm the number of tickets verbally. There were a few people who automatically took me down a few IQ notches when I would explain that I was deaf and needed a question repeated. They would become impatient and avoid buying tickets from me. Others adapted by holding up their fingers to show the amount they wanted whenever I would come near. One guy seemed to feel sorry for me, he responded with a sad-looking “Oh…” when I explained that I was deaf.
And he probably bought more tickets than he wanted to.