Clerc Scar 11 7-11 September 2009 CONTENTS ===== Monday CHASING VISTAS 10 Melanie Bond [Memoir] THE HEARING-EAR DOG 8 Kendra Harness [Comic] ===== Tuesday BLIND RAGE Mary Thornley [Book Review] TWO HELEN KELLER POEMS Kathi Wolfe [Poems] PLUGGED IN Pete McEachen [Comic] ===== Wednesday FIGHTING FOR DANIEL Angela C. Orlando [Memoir] GAS IMPLANT Adrean Clark [Comic] ===== Thursday STOFFEL'S GUIDE TO GET-RICH-FAST SCAMS Scott Stoffel [Humor] DODO HANDS Raymond Luczak [Poem] ===== Friday FEEDBACK FRIDAY [Letters to the Editors] ===== We welcome letters to the editor in response to this piece. Send to editor@clercscar.com. We reserve the right to edit letters for space and clarity or not to publish a letter. We are always open to submissions. Submit your writing, artwork, or video to editor@clercscar.com. To subscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Subscribe daily" or "Subscribe weekly." To unsubscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Unsubscribe me." Find us on Twitter and Facebook! Visit our archives or bookstore at http://www.clercscar.com. Copyright 2009 by Clerc Scar. All rights reserved. ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.1 7 September 2009 ===== Within the category of poetry chapbooks, John Lee Clark's SUDDENLY SLOW is one of the hottest bestsellers out there. Order your own copy and find out why! Autographed copies are available at http://www.clercscar.com/books ===== CHASING VISTAS 10 Melanie Bond Words: 1,906 [Memoir] Chapter 27 Game of Scat! Believe it or not, our evening was rather pleasant. Harvey taught Dano and I how to play a new card game called "Scat!" And no, this wasn't about playing with buffalo chips or cow pies! This was a game that Harvey had learned to play when he was a young lad in Nova Scotia. All the ladies would gather at his mother's house every Tuesday night to socialize, play Bingo, break for tea, then play cards. Whenever they met at his home and needed an extra hand, Harvey happily obliged them. He was allowed to stay up late until after the ladies had gone home. Eventually, the new card game "Scat!" was introduced to the ladies and it became an instant hit with everyone. They had such a good time playing "Scat!" which quickly became their all-time favorite. The way to play "Scat!" is this: Each player starts out with five pennies and three cards. The objective is to get as close to 31 points without going over 31 by discarding one card from your hand, then drawing a new card from a deck of cards for each round. When a player feels that they are as close to 31 points as they can possibly be without going over 31, they can knock on the table without drawing another card. A player must have a minimum of 19 points to knock. Sometimes 19 points wins the round if everyone else has a lower hand count. In this case, it's best to knock early before anyone's had a chance to build up their points. After a player knocks, the other players are entitled to draw one more card if they wish. The person who knocks does not get to draw another card. Instead, he or she lays down their cards first, followed by all the other players who also lay their cards down. The person with the lowest score puts a penny into the pot. Loser! If a person draws a perfect "31" hand, he or she can shout "Scat!" at any time and place their winning hand down on the table. In this case, all the losing players have to chip in a penny. If a player loses all five pennies, they are allowed a grace period until they lose again for the final time. If this happens, they're out of the game. Loser! The winner is the one who still has a penny or more left and/or is still in a state of grace when all the other players have lost all their pennies and their final hand while in a state of grace. Of course, the winner gets to collect all the pennies. Dano truly caught the spirit of this game and had a great time playing it. He begged for us to play a third game but it was already getting late and it was time to turn in for the night. From this point on, we always played the game "Scat!" and, eventually, we would replace our pennies with semi-precious stones and gems which we would end up collecting while traveling on our cross-country journey. Chapter 28 Thumbs-Up Shower What a beautiful, clear, and crisp morning it was here in Manitoba this bright sunny Friday, August 19, 2000. It felt so wonderful taking in deep breaths of fresh, invigorating air. And I had the best morning shower ever! I had come to know that Canadians love beauty, simplicity, and cleanliness. They also value their privacy. Their showers were no exception to this rule. Instead of the typical cramped shower stalls that one usually finds just past the toilet stalls, the private shower rooms at Adam Lake were fabulous! They were spacious and harmonious and helped promote a sense of well-being. One could actually meditate here! Each shower room was super clean and functional. There were no danky or mildewy smells. For that I was grateful. Dano was able to guide and show me where everything in the shower room was located. For an 8-year-old kid, he was surprisingly articulate and able to describe everything down to the last detail. He pointed out the nice long and heavily varnished wooden bench that had a beauty and luster of its own, the skylight which brightened the shower room, the wall heater, the waste paper basket, the floor mats with aerated holes that allowed water to evaporate quickly, and hooks for hanging clothes up. He even pointed out how the shower was designed so that it didn't need a shower curtain or a shower door because the spray was directed toward the back wall, thus assuring that no water would spray out into the room or get the floors wet. He showed me how to work the water fixtures and how to regulate the water temperature. He showed me where I could put my shampoo, soap, and towel. As he walked out, he showed me how to lock the door behind him. I was truly amazed at my son's ability to express himself so well at such a young age. The same was not true for me as I was still struggling to learn words at the age of eight. Chapter 29 International Peace Garden We had a most awesome and most reverential day when we visited the International Peace Garden. This one-of-a-kind peace garden straddles the shared border of North Dakota and Manitoba, demonstrating the trust and friendship between two peoples, the Americans and Canadians, who share the longest undefended border in the world. The estate and botanical gardens were spectacular, almost provoking a sense of familiarity and homesickness for "Home on the Other Side." There were fountains, rock gardens, and terraced gardens. One could not help but immediately notice two giant obelisks standing side by side at the far end of this long and graceful garden. These were the peace towers which could be seen for miles around, and when one was standing in its shadows, one could not help but feel totally eclipsed and awed by the two massive towering structures. One tower was planted firmly on American soil, and the other one on Canadian soil. We took our time strolling down through the lovely garden which was reputed to have over 150,000 flowering plants and bushes. There were several flower displays, including an 18-foot floral clock that was a magnificent work of art, a large white star set against a dark blue background on the American side and a large red maple leaf set against a white background on the Canadian side, each representing their own national flag. Also on the Canadian side was a carillon tower which chimed every hour. I had never heard of a carillon before but I learned that it was a much more elaborate system of 14 bell chimes that could be played using a keyboard. The Manitoban veterans generously donated this wonderful "instrument of peace" which added to and enhanced the peace and harmony that pervaded this wondrous garden. A small stream ran through the center of the garden which marked the North Dakota-Manitoba border. Dano had a lot of fun playing near the stream. For him, it was exciting to stand in the middle of this stream with his right foot on a Canadian stepping stone and his left foot on an American stepping stone. It was as if he was using his body to help bridge the gap between two peaceful nations. Dano took a picture of Harvey and I holding hands at an arm's length as Harvey, a Canadian, stood on his home turf, and I, an American, stood on my home turf! But the most sacred and hallowed sanctuary was yet to come and that was the small peace chapel that stood almost hidden away under the shadows of the giant twin towers. When we entered the marbled domed sanctuary with soft music playing in the background, we could almost sense that the spirits of all who have ever lived and died--whether they were peacemakers or warmongers in past lives--were present, almost as if to tell us, "Listen to the words that are spoken here and never forget!" And, indeed, as we began to stroll around the circular perimeter of this hushed sanctuary, we read the solemn war and peace quotes that were etched into the limestone walls. These words began to pull at our hearts, as if they were calling to something deep inside us, beckoning us to travel down the corridors of time and space to learn the most awful and somber lessons that man still needs to learn. Every quote was profound, adding to the burden and weight of our collective consciousness. There were quotes by many famous politicians, scientists, teachers, and philosophers such as Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, and Confucius. There were quotes from the Holy Bible, the Koran, and the Sanskrit. Note: As of this writing, I became aware that the International Peace Garden was able to obtain a few pieces of the steel beams that were retrieved from the debris of Ground Zero, the site of the fatal collapse of the World Trade Center's twin towers in New York City during a terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. With these pieces of steel beams, the International Peace Garden built a 9/11 memorial to all those who perished on that tragic day. This is sure to add to the grim solemnity of this extraordinary peace garden. Chapter 30 Coffee Crisp Bars Soon Dano began to feel hungry so we headed back to the entrance of the International Peace Garden and, unfortunately for Dano, we took a detour through the gift shop which made him very unhappy. He started whining, "I'm really hungry! And I'm getting a bad headache!" We told him we'd only be a few minutes longer but to a kid, that must've seemed like forever! We purchased some pretty decoupages of an eagle, a wolf, and a hummingbird which are pictures laminated on wooden plaques with its outer bark still intact. And, lo and behold, there were the coveted Coffee Crisp candy bars! God bless Canada! For some idiotic reason, we cannot buy Coffee Crisp bars in the United States. It had been a long time since we had been able to enjoy one. It's a really nice coffee-flavored rice krispie bar. With Dano becoming more impatient, he started to shed a few tears and spat out, "I'm starving! You're taking too long and poking around too much!" Half-apologizing and half-regretting that we'd have to quit our fun shopping excursion, we told Dano, "All right! All right! We're checking out right now!" We then hurried over to the Ladybug Cafe where we had already eaten a nice basket of hot and steamy homemade fries for breakfast. And now that it was well past lunchtime, he was so ravenous that he ordered and completely devoured a full basket of these yummy fries, a burger, and some hot minestrone soup. Harvey ordered a grasshopper burger that had chili and salad toppings for himself. I ordered a nice grilled cheese sandwich and some greasy onion rings. For dessert, we split four Coffee Crisp bars between us as we drove around the peace gardens, checked out a couple campgrounds here, noted some nature trails in this area, and viewed the giant towers from different angles. And in this setting, Dano discovered that he really liked those Coffee Crisp bars and wanted more! ===== Melanie Bond is a deaf-blind writer based in Bay City, Michigan. ===== We welcome letters to the editor in response to this piece. Send to editor@clercscar.com. We reserve the right to edit letters for space and clarity or not to publish a letter. We are always open to submissions. Submit your writing, artwork, or video to editor@clercscar.com. Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.2 7 September 2009 ===== Uncle John wants YOU... to submit comics! Send in your art to cs@clercscar.com today! ===== THE HEARING-EAR DOG 8 Kendra Harness [Comic] The Hearing-Ear Dog 8 comic art For those who are Braille readers, a text description is provided below. Not by Popular Demand! "The Hearing Ear Dog" War Games. The civil war between Puffy and Killer is rapidly escalating . . . Puffy carries a dead rat as another looks on. . . . beyond the point of no return . . . Killer pops a light bulb out from under a lampshade. You can guess what happens next. The parents find dead rats in a bureau drawer, in a pair of pumps, and right in their bowl of cereal as they pour it out of their Life Krispys box. The phone rings . . . rings . . . rings . . . The flasher remains dark. Father holds a light bulb out to Mother. "Something very strange is going on . . . And I notice Puffy doesn't respond to the phone . . ." "Yes, I'm starting to think that he's deaf." "I think so too!" WHAT NEXT? Is Puffy in trouble? Is Killer in trouble? Is your mind in trouble? ===== Kendra Harness is a Deaf artist currently living in sunny California, cranking out sign language rubber stamps, T-shirt designs, and whatever else comes out of her fevered brain. Her website is at: http://www.aslstuff.com Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.3 8 September 2009 ===== The American Society for Deaf Children, http://www.deafchildren.org , would like to invite writers to submit articles for their magazine, The Endeavor. The topic is Celebrating Deaf Children in Diverse Family Backgrounds. Examples: Deaf parents/adopted Deaf child, Same sex parents/Deaf child, Parents with a Deaf child and other special needs, etc. 800 to 1000 words. Submit to Tami Hossler at asdctami@aol.com by October 1st. ===== BLIND RAGE Mary Thornley Words: 1,209 [Book Review] Book under review: Blind Rage: Letters to Helen Keller Georgina Kleege Gallaudet University Press, $19.95 Available at http://www.clercscar.com/books/rage.html Like Georgina Kleege, the author of Blind Rage: Letters to Helen Keller, I have been plagued by thoughtless remarks from others. Because she had low vision, Kleege reports, others would say to her: "Why can't you be more like Helen Keller?" I read about Helen Keller. I read the pump story, and later I read The Miracle Worker. Then I read an autobiography written by William Gibson, the author of The Miracle Worker. I saw the film starring Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke. I resented these people "playing" at being Helen and Anne Sullivan. I read Patty Duke's autobiography, in which she described touring with The Miracle Worker. She said that the acting became so intense at times that she and Anne would forget themselves, and deliver real blows when acting out Gibson's version of Helen's resistance to Anne's discipline. I resented William Gibson's success. He seemed like someone who might have visited my parents' farm, and when I appeared, would say, "Helen Keller was deaf and blind!" reproachfully. I read Helen's autobiography, but once past the pump story, her book paled. Her recital seemed choreographed. Biographies written about her were more interesting--if I avoided the writers who indulged in hyperbole. I read about Helen's brief romance: she tried to elope but her relatives drove off her suitor, Peter Fagan. The thought of Helen sitting on the porch at night with her suitcase packed, waiting, and with no one coming, filled me with intense disquiet. It remained for Kleege to tear the veil aside and show me Helen. For a year and a half, Kleege, an assistant professor of English at the University of California at Berkeley, having read Helen's writings and that of others, prepared a series of letters to Helen in which she attempts to confront the icon with the discrepancies in the accounts of her life. Kleege re-enacts, on paper, the events in question. She manages, in retelling, to resurrect the scenes convincingly. For example, in Part One: Consciousness on Trial, Kleege writes about a visit to Keller's childhood home. Kleege and her husband join a tour group. The guide points out a carpet that was woven for Helen, and when everyone agrees it is lovely, intones: "Too bad Helen Keller never saw it." "But she could touch it," Kleege says, aloud. The guide is taken aback, "She what?" "She could touch it," Kleege reiterates. "She had the sense of touch. One of the pleasures of a nice carpet is texture. She could feel it. She could walk on it barefoot. She had an imagination. Someone could describe it to her and she could imagine it." The tour group moves on, the guide now leery of Kleege, the loose cannon. The tour pauses at a collection of photos. Kleege cannot see photographs well and relies on her husband Nick to describe them. Later she writes to her nemesis, Helen: " . . . you're wearing a dress with a lot of ruffles, and your hair is an elaborate arrangement . . . what could a photograph mean to you at that age? Later, you've got the hang of it. In other photographs . . . you're always wearing a big smile and have your eyes aimed directly at the lens." As the tour enters the dining room, things take an ominous turn. The guide describes Helen as a "hellion." Kleege realizes the guide is parroting The Miracle Worker as if this were gospel rather than a fictional play. Kleege learns that reenactments of The Miracle Worker are conducted nightly in Helen's childhood home in summer. Kleege writes to Helen: " . . . the main thing that disturbed me . . . was that The Miracle Worker is Teacher's story, not yours. She was the one who worked a miracle and triumphed over adversity. You were the adversary she overcame. You were the site of miracles . . ." The reader learns about blind people from Kleege. We begin to be increasingly aware of how Helen adjusted herself to fit the world around her. Kleege writes knowingly of how Helen drew information by, for example, pressing her leg against a bed so that she could feel the motions of whoever sat or lay on that bed. And the subtle ways Helen might have derived meaning from fingerspelling--a hand hesitating to answer, or tapping out words into her palm hurriedly, or tripping over the letters. Helen Keller wished to magnify Anne Sullivan whom she loved. Kleege, however, was not looking for Anne Sullivan but for the child, and later, the woman Helen. Kleege describes what the child was like, and the language that child used. Helen had signs for many things and people, and used these to communicate with the people around her. She learned so fast, with such passion, it was obvious, as Kleege noted, Helen had an affinity for language. Helen was not the empty vessel she has been portrayed as. Before Anne Sullivan arrived, Helen had an impressive vocabulary of signs she'd generated herself, and a sensory world. Later, however, Helen dismissed that child and her system of communication. She replaced it with writing, lipreading (by touch), and fingerspelling, presumably to be more in sync with a hearing, sighted world and its expectations. Kleege is not at all impressed with Anne Sullivan, a departure from most biographers. Kleege thinks Sullivan's complaints about her eyes were weapons she used to manipulate Helen. Perhaps the most difficult issue Kleege raises in her letters to Helen is Helen's role in Sullivan's marriage to John Macy. Helen had met Macy while at Harvard. They had shared many campus activities, and Helen was a beautiful young woman, two years younger than Macy, while Anne Sullivan was eleven years older. After considering the situation, Kleege writes in her letter to Helen: "What I'm asking is this. Did the three of you decide that since the world was not ready to accept a marriage between a Normal man like him and a disabled woman like you, to avoid scandal he should marry Teacher?" Because Kleege herself has vision difficulties, her recreation of Helen's choices and endeavors provides insight unusual in biography. Kleege describes how she employs others to read for her, then examines what problems Helen might have encountered if she'd wanted to read or re-read a piece of text. She would have had to ask Polly, the woman who joined Sullivan and Helen after Sullivan's vision, and her marriage to Macy, began to fail, or send the text out to be Brailled. Inevitably Sullivan would know--and might not approve. Kleege imagines her saying, "Why, Helen? Why do you want to dwell on that?" if Helen should want to read one of John Macy's books. A central point of Kleege's book is the difficult role Helen had had, forced to maneuver, always, for any measure of access. "Normals," or the majority population, did not believe she was capable of true thinking or being. This created the greatest obstacle for Helen's self realization. Kleege's treatment of the later years of Helen's life is stark and daunting. This is a powerful, fascinating book, for anyone who wants a bolder, no-holds-barred look at Helen Keller. Read it and wonder--or weep. Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.4 8 September 2009 ===== Find your sign language teacher's and ILY rubber stamps at: http://www.aslstamp.com Get your colorful fingerspelling and sign designs on T-shirts, buttons, mugs, and more goodies at: http://www.cafepress.com/aslstuff Astound your eyeballs with unique art and cool links at: http://www.aslstuff.com ===== TWO HELEN KELLER POEMS Kathi Wolfe Lines: 61 [Poems] Lunch at the Algonquin Thank God for vodka and caviar. They are an antidote to condescension, Helen thinks. An actress, a Park Avenue socialie and a celebrity columnist blanket her in their awe. Once again, she is the eighth wonder of the world. Annie, her teacher, spells out their bromides, letter by letter, into Helen's reluctant hands. "You're so amazing!" intones the starlet, "do you really know how to eat?" I went to Radcliffe and learned Greek as well as the Harvard boys. I believe I can manage a salad fork/, she'd like to tell this half-baked floozy. But the ladies who lunch frown on sarcastic deaf-blind saints. Still, against all her good breeding, her naked life-force comes alive. Taking her fingers out of Annie's hand, away from the flowing fountain of pity, Helen burps. = If I Drove Drunk, I'd sing Gershwin in Greek, fishtail my way through a sea of booze, smile at the cops and ever-so-politely rip up their sober tickets. I'd ride to Fredonia eat duck soup, pinch Margare Dumont's bottom, and look surprised when she jumps higher than Bugs Bunny in flight from Elmer Fudd. In a Braille parking lot, I'd jump-start the dots, stop by Oz, take Dorothy to Kansas, and sweet-talk Auntie Em into giving me a shot of scotch. How's that for a Helen Keller trick? ===== Kathi Wolfe is a hearing and legally blind writer and poet. Her chapbook of poems is Helen Keller Takes the Stage, which is available at http://www.puddinghouse.com. Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.5 8 September 2009 ===== Are you a "Harry Potter" fan? Then you'll love "Hector's Magic" by S. M. Stoffel. This exciting fantasy story is more than just a novel! Test your wits with the optional Reader Challenge Game as you read. Can you solve the riddle to escape the Cobra Room? Can you find the hidden entrance to the desert temple? How can you get past the Lady Shadows? Can you figure out how to defeat the terrifying Nightmare? But even if you don't want to take on the Reader Challenge, "Hector's Magic" is a lively adventure story for readers of all ages. It can be purchased at http://www.amazon.com in paperback ($9.99) or Kindle download ($2.99). ===== PLUGGED IN Pete McEachen [Comic] plugged in comic art Thomas sits in a beanbag, watching TV. The TV blares, "Earco Hearing Aids. We mean it when we say . . . Stick it in your ear!" ===== Pete McEachen has a BFA in Industrial Design from the Cleveland Institute of Art and has been designing toys and drawing cartoons professionally for the last 15 years. He has worn hearing aids since the tender age of 4. Examples of Pete's work can be seen at http://www.petemstudio.com. Oticon, Inc. has agreed to sponsor the "plugged in" comic strip and will publish the first of four "plugged in" books this fall. Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.6 9 September 2009 ===== Do your thoughts travel through fingertips to keyboard? Then we want your work! Email editor@clercscar.com today! ===== FIGHTING FOR DANIEL A Deaf-Blind Mother Battles for Custody for Her Son Angela C. Orlando Words: 5,758 [Memoir] On April 11, 2007, I found myself sitting in front of a Circuit Court Judge about to hear the verdict of whether or not I would be allowed to continue raising my son. There was only one claim made against my ability to be a fit parent: the fact that I am both deaf and blind. All stories have a back-story, an explanation of how this all started and how it came to be. I was born with no disabilities, and no hint that anything would ever go wrong. But when I was 13 I began losing my hearing. It started with tinnitus. I thought I was hearing helicopters fly over the house all night long. Then my parents began complaining that I wasn't listening. They thought I wasn't paying attention to them. "She's just being a teenager," they would say. It was easy to dismiss the problem. Finally, my parents realized that something was wrong. They took me to an audiologist who confirmed that I had a mild to moderate hearing loss. I was fitted with hearing aids but they didn't help me. The loss continued to progress. By age 16 I was profoundly deaf in both ears. I remember sitting in a big chair in a small exam room, still hooked up to a machine that was showing the inside of my ear. I couldn't hear what the doctor said; I could only see my mother's face as she began sobbing. At this point they told me I had Usher syndrome. This would be the first in a series of misdiagnoses. Because my brother had Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), a genetic disease that causes night blindness and loss of peripheral vision, and because of my unexplained hearing loss, the doctors decided I had to have Usher syndrome, which is a rare genetic disorder involving the combination of RP and hearing loss. When I was 16, I received a cochlear implant (CI). This was back in 1990 when it was still experimental for children to undergo cochlear implant surgery. Insurance wouldn't cover the very expensive procedure. My parents were determined to do what they felt was my only hope. As it turned out, my Grandmother died just one week before my surgery. Her estate helped to pay the bill. The cochlear implant was an extreme success. By combining the sounds I heard with the CI, and the visual clues from lipreading, I was able to understand oral language. Only a few months after my surgery I was hit with another blow. My parents noticed that I was running into things and tripping over the dogs. I had trouble seeing at night. They took me to the eye doctor and our fears were confirmed: I had Retinitis Pigmentosa and was gradually going blind. It was not easy to accept this fate. Still, I felt determined to try. I did the best I could with listening and lipreading. I couldn't drive or play girls' soccer like I wanted, but I had dreams of being a special education teacher. I kept pushing myself to do the best I could and work toward those dreams. In May 1997, I graduated summa cum laude with triple certification in special education. I wanted to teach children with severe mental and physical disabilities. I was set on a career track. I never even considered having a family. I never thought I'd find a man willing to marry someone with dual sensory disabilities. But things changed, as they so often do. I "met" Greg Howard online on a computer chat board in the summer of 1994. Yes, I will admit it. It was a Star Trek forum. I wasn't a die-hard Trekkie, but I enjoyed the show and liked talking about the episodes with other fans. Greg struck me as so charming and witty. I thought for sure he must be a 75-year-old college professor. But he was just another college student like me. He lived in Maryland. I lived in Ohio. We exchanged emails, spent hours in live chats together, and sent each other presents. Greg didn't seem shocked by my disabilities. In fact, when he learned I had never seen an episode of The Original Star Trek series because they weren't closed captioned, he set off on a mission to find videos in caption for me to watch. He succeeded, too. Eventually Greg came to visit me in person. I was shy but after a while we hit it off. Naturally we attended a Star Trek convention together. It was the start of what I thought was a beautiful relationship. He'd drive to Ohio to visit me once a month. I'd fly to Maryland to spend spring break and summer vacation with him. We were deeply in love. After I graduated from college, I decided to move to Maryland and live near my boyfriend while looking for a job. The relationship progressed better than the job search. After two years living together we became engaged. I started my first teaching job just one month before we were married. September 25, 1999, was a dream come true--albeit a dream I never conceived could possibly happen. I was a bride just like any other bride. My deaf-blindness didn't matter. My career was rocky, but that's another story altogether. Greg and I bought a house in Waldorf, Maryland. We went skiing in Quebec for our honeymoon. And we talked about having children. Children? Me? How could a deaf-blind person even think of having children? But it felt so right. We wanted a family. By this time genetic tests had ruled out the diagnosis of Usher syndrome. My new diagnosis was RP with hearing loss of unknown cause. The doctors said there was little risk to the baby. And if our child did have RP or hearing loss, Greg and I knew we would love the baby anyway. Who better to nurture and support a child with a disability than a successful parent with the same disability? My pregnancy was relatively easy. I craved Taco Bell and sausages, although I never liked either before. I only threw up once from morning sickness. Greg held me while I vomited into the bushes outside one morning. He was so supportive. I wanted a boy. I've always been more of a tomboy than a girly girl. I thought it would be wonderful to have a son. I was so thrilled when the ultrasound identified my baby as a little boy. Daniel Howard was born on May 22, 2001. I can never forget my first sight of Daniel. He was purple and slimy and looked like a corpse. I thought I had given birth to a dead baby. But before I could react to such a horrible thought, Daniel opened his tiny mouth and took his first breath of life. Oh the joy! I had actually seen another person--my son--take his first breath of life. I had tears streaming down my face. And just like that Greg and I became parents. Greg was the proudest father in the world that day. He held his tiny son in his arms before I was able to. He proudly showed off his baby to family and friends and took millions of pictures. The first six months of parenthood were like those of any other parents. Life meant changing diapers, feedings, burpings, and never enough sleep. I stayed home with Daniel while Greg worked. My disabilities didn't really cause me limitations in being a parent. I could do anything any other parent did. My being deaf-blind was simply not an issue. The real story, however, begins when Daniel was only six months old. This is when I became extremely ill, had to fight to recover everything I had, and learn new ways to be an effective mother to Daniel. This is also when the abuse started. In December 2001, I rapidly began losing my remaining vision. My father-in-law was my doctor. He was a general practice doctor who, for some odd reason, served as Primary Care Physician for his own family members. At first, he diagnosed me with post-partum depression and Hysterical Blindness. I knew something very real and serious was happening to me. At the same time my cochlear implant seemed to be failing me. My legs were weak and I couldn't walk without collapsing. My feet and hands became numb. I was in horrible pain--like pins and needles, but so much worse. By January of 2002 I was completely deaf and blind. I had no way at all to understand what people were saying to me or what was happening to me. I had no feeling in my hands or legs. I couldn't walk. I couldn't even crawl. And I lost 25 pounds in one month. I thought I was dying. The pain was so unbearable that I wanted to die. My father-in-law finally sent me to a neurologist. After tests confirmed I had severe nerve damage, I was sent to Georgetown University Hospital. I spent eight days in the hospital. They diagnosed me with Guilliame-Barre Syndrome (GBS), a virus that damages nerves in the body and often leaves victims in a coma. They said I was lucky. They caught it fast and I had no lung damage, which is usually a symptom. Greg and my mother took turns staying with me in the hospital. Since I couldn't understand anyone when they talked to me, I was always very upset. I needed someone with me to help keep me calm during this scary time. My mother-in-law helped by keeping Daniel at her house. I didn't have lung damage like most people with GBS, but I didn't feel so lucky. The pain was horrible. The complete dual sensory loss and physical paralysis made me feel like I was trapped in my own body. I had no feeling in my hands so I couldn't read tactile sign language. My family couldn't even print letters on my palm. Eventually someone got the idea to print letters on my face. This became our way of communicating for over two years. I pretty much missed being a parent to Daniel from age six months to eighteen months. I couldn't even take care of myself. My family had to bathe me, dress me, feed me, and lift me onto a potty chair. Daniel learned to walk before I could even stand again. I was determined to still be "something" to Daniel. During the worst of my illness I would get down on the floor on my back while Daniel played around my face. This was the only part of my body that I could feel. He would put his toys against my cheeks. He liked to put his blocks in my mouth. When I was a little stronger I could hold him on my lap while we played face games. If he touched my nose I would stick out my tongue. If he pinched my nose I would say, "Beep beep beep" until he let go. Daniel liked to help feed me. He'd share anything he was eating with me, even sticky candy that had stuff all over it. He "helped" during my home Physical Therapy sessions by handing me more weights to lift. Once he could walk Daniel loved to push me in my wheelchair. He was too small to see over the chair but that didn't stop him. He would do anything to help take care of his "mamamama." I had my family taking tons of pictures of Daniel. They took pictures of him eating his first solid foods, pictures of him taking his first steps, pictures of him riding his little push car. People with GBS usually regain their vision. And with these pictures I would be able to see everything I missed. It was never a thought of "if" I would see again. I knew I would see again. I talked about "when" I could see again, and usually it was about when I could see Daniel again. It was a crushing blow on July 2, 2002, when I learned I was permanently and completely blind. Greg's words still haunt me today. "You are blind now and forever." It seems the combination of nerve damage and RP was too much for my eyes. Blood vessels stopped pumping blood to the retina. My eyes had shut down and I would never see again. How did I get through those dark days? I have no idea. But Daniel helped. I wanted to die. Suddenly I was truly totally deaf and blind. I didn't think my life was worth living. Daniel did. He never left my side. I was his play buddy. I was the person he shared his food with. I was his Mommy. He didn't know anything about deaf-blindness. He just knew he needed me. And I needed him too. Together we managed and by the time he was two years old I was again his primary caretaker. My health had improved by the time I was caring for Daniel on my own. Although I was totally blind, my auditory nerves had healed so the cochlear implant was functioning. I could hear environmental sounds. But without lipreading I could no longer understand speech. I had regained full use and feeling of my hands so I was able to communicate with tactile fingerspelling and some simple signs. I also taught myself Braille so I could once again read. (My sign name is the sign for "book" but made with two A handshapes. I truly love to read.) As if deaf-blind wasn't enough, my feet were very damaged by the illness. I have been in physical therapy for years working on strength, flexibility, and balance. I still have no feeling in my feet. That makes it hard to balance because I can't tell where my feet are in relationship to the ground. I can walk but I look a lot like a drunk penguin when I do so. My leg braces keep my ankles from twisting so I don't fall. I use a forearm crutch for added stability when I walk. They asked me in court, "How can a deaf-blind person take care of a child?" I answered truthfully. I don't know. I don't know how other deaf-blind parents manage. I only know how Daniel and I did it. We kind of made things up as we went along. It was trial and error. We stuck with the things that worked. When Daniel was still a toddler, I found it was easier to keep track of him if he was contained in a relatively small area. We had baby gates on both sides of the living room so he couldn't get out. I didn't have to worry about him running off and getting into trouble. I tried to keep Daniel close to me and involved in activities. Busy boys are good boys. We would lie down together on the beanbag chair and read books together. Our books are "twin vision" with both Braille and print with pictures. We played with plastic animals, monster trucks, and superhero action figures. We spent hours with Play-Doh and doing crafts. I taught Daniel how to make tactile pictures by gluing objects to paper or cardboard. We made lots of collages this way and animals with no bake clay. Once these dried I could feel them and marvel over Daniel's wonderful artistic skills. Since I couldn't see or hear, I had to use my other senses to watch and communicate with Daniel. My sense of touch was extremely important. I can feel what Daniel is doing and make sure he is not into trouble. My hands tell me if his clothes fit right or if his face is messy from eating lunch. I can feel the vibration of his feet as he moves around the house. Best of all, my hands tell me his emotion. I can feel his smile or his open mouth of excitement. When his lips are closed very tightly I know he's upset about something. Daniel doesn't mind me touching his face. I've been doing it since he was a baby and he's used to it. My sense of smell helps me too. When he was a baby I could smell when he needed a diaper change. When we were working on potty training, Daniel would hide under the table or behind the couch when he had an accident in his pants. I could track him down with my nose and lead him upstairs to be cleaned up. One time I was sitting in the living room when I distinctly smelled chocolate. I tracked down the source of the smell and found Daniel behind the couch eating a candy bar. He insisted he found the chocolate back there so it was okay for him to eat it. I didn't believe him. He said he wasn't lying. "I found the chocolate behind the couch because I put it there!" Nice try, Daniel. I led him to the kitchen where I used my hands to find what I expected to find. The pantry door was open and the tub of candy on the floor. Daniel had climbed up the shelves and pulled it down, spilling candy all over the floor. I insisted that Daniel help clean up this mess. I could feel his hands as he picked up the candy and placed it in the container. I could feel the "thump" of the candy as it fell into the plastic tub. And I could feel Daniel's hand brush away from me . . . What was he doing? By using my hands I discovered that for every piece of candy he put away, he was shoving another piece down his shirt. He had a big bulge of candy in his shirt. He later explained, "I had to hide the candy or Mommy would have taken it away!" He was right about that one. Although limited, my sense of hearing also helps me keep track of Daniel. I cannot understand speech, but with my CI I can hear environmental sounds. I can hear Daniel play with his toys. I can hear his chatter as he makes his Power Ranger action figures fight the forces of evil. I can hear the TV as he watches movies. I can hear silence, which usually means trouble. Time to find out what Daniel is up to. I can hear him cry. I can hear him laugh. The latter is my favorite sound in the world. Daniel and I have always been able to communicate with each other. We have always found a way to make it work. As he becomes older and more mature, we have improved our methods of communication. At first, Daniel used "Show me" to tell me what he wanted. If he wanted a drink, he showed me a cup. If he wanted a snack, he took me to the pantry. If he wanted to play, he brought me a toy. One time he wanted something while in the bathtub. I could hear him saying the word and knew it started with a "t." "Do you want a towel? Do you want a toy?" No, that's not what he wanted. Finally I said, "Show me." Daniel promptly jumped out of the tub. Naked and soaking wet, he led me to his bedroom where he found his little toy turtle. I couldn't really complain about the wet carpet. I had told him to "show me" and he did. The communication was successful. Later we were able to do choices. I would wave my right hand and say, "Do you want an apple?" and then wave my left hand and say "Or do you want a cookie?" Daniel would then touch the appropriate hand to indicate his choice. (In this case it would usually be the cookie.) This method could be used with almost anything at all to give him a choice about what he wanted. Our communication was greatly improved when Daniel learned to sign the words "yes" and "no." Now I could ask questions that he could easily answer. He also began learning other simple signs. His first sign was "more." This was used to indicate "more cookies," "more play time," and "more pushes on the swing." Once Daniel began learning to read and write, we could communicate using a mixture of tactile signs, invented spelling, and accurate spelling. Our communication greatly improved and he could tell me long stories about the very hard papers he does in school and the games he plays with his friends. When he doesn't know how to sign or spell a word, he uses his skill in phonics to sound it out. "Fing" means "things." "Oway" is for "always" and "rexq namel" means "rescue animals." (The title character in "Go, Diego, Go" is an Animal Rescuer.) Yes, I really do understand what he is trying to say. I've had a lot of practice and we are a good team. I had found peace in life through being Daniel's mother. I was deaf-blind, and physically impaired. I could no longer work. This was not the life I had wanted. And yet I was able to accept it and move on. Being Daniel's mother made everything else worthwhile. Well, almost everything. I wish I could say I had no clue it would happen when I married Greg. That wouldn't be true. There were incidents even before we were married. I remember going to Disney World with Greg shortly after I graduated from college. It was a business trip for him. He spent his mornings in classes and we toured in the afternoon. It was hot. He was tired. He didn't like crowds and there was a mix-up with our transportation. And he hit me. He punched me in the arm. It was utterly shocking and for a short while I was actually afraid of him. But he apologized and had a million excuses. I thought it was a random event--a fluke. It would never happen again. It did. I almost called off the wedding a month before the big day. We got in a fight at Baskin Robbins. The menu was too small for me to read and I couldn't understand the cashier. I wanted Greg to help me but for some reason that made him angry. The argument continued after we got home. He went around the house opening doors, pulling out chairs and anything he could find to put obstacles in my path. He wanted me to run into something or trip over something and get hurt. The cruelty of it shocked me. Yet I believed his excuses and his promises. I didn't want to believe he was an abuser. I married him anyway. On Christmas Eve 2000, when I was pregnant with Daniel, Greg went on a rampage around the house. He was enraged because he couldn't find the gift he bought his brother. He threw things all over the place, yelled, cursed, and hit me. He destroyed that Christmas for me. And even though I had a dark bruise on my arm to prove what happened, I didn't do anything. Greg promised to go back on his anti-depressant. It wouldn't happen again. The abuse was random throughout the first two years of our marriage. Usually he'd get stressed about money, stop taking his medicine, and then something would happen. After my illness, however, it began to happen more and more often. Did he do it because I was weak? Did he do it because he blamed me for getting sick? Did he do it simply because I was there? I don't know. Greg didn't beat me up or give me black eyes. He was a "careful abuser." He didn't leave marks where people could see them. He slapped my head or my hands. He crushed my hands when I made mistakes understanding his signs. He pushed me. He threw things at me. He kicked me. Sometimes Greg would grab me or yank me around. He shoved me into walls if I was in his way. He did all sorts of "little" things. But it was still abuse. There was physical abuse, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, and sexual abuse. The house was a mess. Greg had power tools, motorcycle parts, wood, computer parts, and brewery supplies all over the house. He would leave objects on the floor that I would trip over. He constantly dropped his t-shirts on the floor and they tangled in my feet as I tried to walk. I tripped over his boots. I slid on his comics and magazines that he left on the floor. There was little walking space and I could barely get around my own home. I got hurt weekly. This was no environment for a disabled woman . . . or for a young child. So why did I stay? That's easy to answer. I was terrified I'd lose my son if I tried to leave. There was an incident one night when Daniel was about eight months old. Greg had given me a bath, dressed me, and put me in bed. He said he needed to go downstairs for a few minutes. I asked him to bring me up a snack. He didn't come back up for three hours. By then I had fallen asleep. All of a sudden something hit me in the nose and I was roughly yanked across the bed. Greg was furious because I had moved out of the position he left me in. He had thrown a banana at my face and "re-positioned" me. Then he yelled at me that I should have stayed where he put me. He made me feel like a dog. The next day I told Greg that this kind of behavior had to stop. He couldn't treat me like this. And if he did, I would leave him. Greg told me right then and there that he was taking Daniel and leaving. He said that no one ever threatens him and that I would never see my baby again. I felt so helpless. I cried and apologized. I begged him not to go. He didn't leave, but he made it clear he would disappear with Daniel if I ever left him. He also said that if Family Services were called in they would put Daniel in a foster home. I couldn't risk calling the police. I was trapped. My mother, who lived in Ohio, strongly suspected what was going on. She had helped out when I was sick. She had seen Greg mistreat me on numerous occasions. She let me know I could come to her for help, but I was too afraid. "No judge would ever give a deaf-blind parent custody of a small child." That's what I told her. I stayed in this abusive environment for fear of losing my son. I eventually realized I had to leave, for Daniel's sake. It happened in mid-July 2006. Daniel had just returned from a weeklong visit with my family in Ohio. The very next night Greg shoved me into the steps as we came inside the house. I hit the stairs hurting both legs, bounced back against the wall, and finally fell back down the stairs. I lay crying in a heap at the foot of the stairs. And my five-year-old son came running over saying "Mommy, Mommy, are you okay?" It happened again the next day. This time Greg crushed my hands because I didn't understand what he was saying. When the pain caused me to fall to the kitchen floor, he roughly yanked me back up to finish what he was saying. Then he walked away. And there was Daniel . . . "Mommy, are you okay?" Later that night, Daniel and I were in the backyard running through his Elmo sprinkler. This was a favorite activity at the time. He wanted a cup so he could catch the water. I knew Greg was in the kitchen and told him to ask Daddy to get it for him. Daniel stopped dead in his tracks and signed "no." It was odd. It almost seemed like Daniel was afraid. I knelt down in front of him right there under the water spray. I "looked" him right in the eye and asked, "Daniel, are you scared of Daddy?" He said no. Then Daniel said, "Daddy says bad words." I admitted that he does. Greg cusses a lot. And then Daniel said it, the words that were like daggers through my heart. "Daddy is bad because he hurts you." That was it. That was my big breaking point. It hurt worse than a beating ever could have. I suddenly realized that my five-year-old son was being abused too. He wasn't the one being hit. But he was still being abused. He was watching his mother being hurt by his father. I can't even imagine how horrible that must have been for him. There was only one way I could save him. I had to leave my husband. The next day I sent an email to my mother asking for help. The mission was started. Many people were involved. We needed to get me out safely with no incident. And we needed to do it right, so that Daniel would not be sent back to live with Greg. I was afraid of the legal system and my chances of winning custody. But I chose to use the legal system to do this. My parents arrived on August 3, 2006 with a couple of vans and a handful of helpers. We packed as much stuff as we could and hit the road while Greg was at work. He had no idea what was going on. It was the only way to ensure my and Daniel's safety. I was terrified as we drove away from Maryland. Greg was an angry, violent man. The tiniest things made him explode. I couldn't imagine what this would do to him. I was afraid he'd come after us. I knew he had access to guns. To be sure of our safety, my mother, Daniel, and I spent four nights at a Women's Shelter in Ohio. Once I had been to court and had a protective order issued against Greg, I was able to go to my parents' house. If Greg came anywhere near us, he would be arrested. The initial court battle was drawn out and confusing. Maryland and Ohio were arguing over which state had jurisdiction to try the case. I had to testify about the abuse in December in Ohio court. This judge decided that the divorce would be settled in Ohio but custody would be done in Maryland. The Maryland court scheduled another jurisdiction hearing for April 2007. It looked like this would never go to trial. That was okay with me. Daniel and I had made such a nice life in Ohio. We lived with my parents. All my family lives in this area. They help me with Daniel or just visit because they like being with us. Daniel loved starting school. It's the same school I attended as a child. He became involved with lots of activities here, including soccer, ice-skating, swimming and story hour. He was off to a great start with his newest activity, t-ball. I had never in my life been so content and peaceful. My son was thriving, I was no longer being abused, and every thing felt right. We were all so happy together. On March 28, 2007, I received a horribly shocking phone call from my lawyer in Maryland. The jurisdiction hearing was off. The judge wanted the custody case over with. We would be going to trial on April 10th. All my fears came alive again. I had done what I thought was best for my child, and now, with only two weeks to prepare, I would be facing a judge to find out if I could keep Daniel. We arrived in court on Tuesday, April 10th, expecting a two-hour hearing. Instead we got a full custody trial. It took one and a half days. Greg and his witnesses testified about why I was an unfit parent. My disability was my only weakness. It was up to me and my witnesses to prove that a deaf-blind person can be a competent parent. With the help of an interpreter, I testified about my life with Greg and all of the abuse. I told about how I take care of Daniel and the special things we do together. I had truth on my side and that gave me strength. My witnesses were wonderful as they told about the things they had seen me do with Daniel. There was even a video of me riding a mechanical bull with Daniel at deaf-blind camp in 2005. Some of my witnesses had things to say about Greg, too. My lawyer was strong and relentless. I think he truly believed in me and it came out as he gave his closing arguments. Would it be enough? The judge took a ten-minute recess and then came back to give the verdict. He had much to say about parenting and doing what is best for the child. He talked about his respect for people with disabilities. He called me heroic for what I was trying to do despite severe challenges. I sat there listening to his speech knowing the big decision was about to come. I had no idea, which way he would go. I was terrified. I don't know if I believe in God, but at that moment I prayed that if there were any good force in the world it would give the judge the wisdom to do what was best for Daniel. And the judge dropped it like a bombshell over my head. "Sole custody of the minor child to the mother." My interpreter thumped her hands in my fists as if to say "Yes!" In the back of the courtroom my mother began sobbing. I could only nod my head and sit up straighter in my chair. One word came to my mind. "Right." I had done the right thing by leaving my abusive husband. And it was right that I would be allowed to raise my son. I might be deaf and blind but I am the right parent to love and nourish Daniel. I remember saying, "No judge would ever give a deaf-blind parent custody of a small child." This one did. ===== Angela C. Orlando has returned to school, at Kent State University, taking ASL classes to improve her communication skills before she pursues a master's degree in education. She and her son are well. Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.7 9 September 2009 ===== Wordgathering, a quarterly online journal of disability and poetry, is interested in poetry and other creative work by writers with disabilities or about disability. It also reviews relevant books of poetry. New writers welcome. See guidelines at http://www.wordgathering.com/ or contact at submissions@wordgathering.com. ===== GAS IMPLANT Adrean Clark [Comic] Gas Implant comic art For those who are Braille readers, a text description is provided below. A TV appears in a dark room, the screen showing static. Imagine living in a world of silence . . . No birds . . . No music . . . Nothing. Don't let that happen to you or your child! Thanks to: Big Al's DISCOUNT WORLD . . . The solution is affordable! Big Al appears in a fringed jacket, holding two thumbs up as his teeth gleams. Mimi and Paul Tweak, parents of William comment, "We were very worried when we found out the cochlear implant for our son cost so much!" "We contacted Big Al, and quick as lightning he had THE ANSWER!" A gleaming implant with mufflers and flame-paint appears, labelled Big Al's Gas Powered Cochlear Implant TM. Paul: "Now with the ImplantTM I spend more time with my son . . ." " . . . especially in the mornings! Starting up the machine for the day allows us to bond . . . Just hold the side of his head and pull." Paul yanks a cord like on a lawnmower. The implant fires up. rrrrRRRRRRRRRrrRRRR "It's inspiring." Willam appears, exhaust puffing out of his ear. "Thanks, Daddy!" Big Al reappears, thumbs up in the air. All this, yours for only 167 payments of $19.95! Don't delay, call today! 1-800-CHEAP-EAR Yes, you read that right, 1-800-CHEAP-EAR! Only at Big Al's Discount World! While supplies last, CALL TODAY! ===== Adrean Clark is a Deaf cartoonist based in St. Paul, Minnesota. She is also the editor of Comics Bento at http://www.comicsbento.com. Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.8 10 September 2009 ===== Deaf American Poetry showcases for the first time the best works of Deaf poets throughout the nation's history--John R. Burnet, Laura C. Redden, George M. Teegarden, Agatha Tiegel Hanson, Loy E. Golladay, Robert F. Panara, Mervin D. Garretson, Clayton Valli, Willy Conley, Raymond Luczak, Christopher Jon Heuer, Pamela Wright-Meinhardt, and many others. Own your copy today at http://www.clercscar.com/books/dap.html! ===== STOFFEL'S GUIDE TO GET-RICH-FAST SCAMS Scott Stoffel Words: 512 [Humor] Isn't it great how people share their "secrets" about acquiring vast fortunes? Sure, they just want to help us fellow Americans who have been down on our luck?help us add to their vast fortunes, that is. It's amazing how many people fall for these bogus wealth-amassing schemes. Say, I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you. Do you want fries with that? Let's take a look at what those get rich fast offers "really" say: Dear Y. R. U. Readingthis: I have a confession to make: For years, I've been quietly earning bazillions of dollars without lifting a finger. Truckloads of cash are dumped on my front lawn practically every day. I said to myself, "This just isn't right! I have a moral obligation to share the knowledge of my unbelievable money-making method with my fellow human beings for a RIDICULOUSLY low price!" Finally, my conscience won over, and I am sharing my treasure-amassing secrets with astute individuals like your neighbor. Obviously, since I am already reeking with wealth, I don't want or need to charge anyone for my cash-compiling secrets. Unfortunately, if I offered this financial windfall for free, everyone would just say, "He's lying! It's fake! It's fraud!" So to prove to you beyond the shadow of all doubt that my fortune-building plan is genuine, I must attach a small "validation" fee. This one-time only fee covers everything: your "Mountains of Gold Guidebook," your official "Upper-Class Citizen Certificate," and your "Who Needs Jobs?" fat-cat badge!* That's right! For one MICROSCOPIC** price, you practically earn your long overdue fortune, INSTANTLY. You're probably saying to yourself, "Well, I know I can trust someone who offers such a reassuring validation fee, but how do I know the ?Mountains of Gold Guidebook' will work for me?" And I've got the honest-to-goodness answer for you: I'm making PREPOSTEROUS quantities of raw cash because of this guidebook! But you must act quickly! This offer is available for a LIMITED TIME*** only. So act NOW and start your well-deserved ascent to the very summit of Gold Mountain**** itself! Now that I've done my part, the rest is up to you! Sincerelessly, U. R. A. Sucker Author of "Mountains of Gold Guidebook" * The all-inclusive fee does not include postage and handling. You will need to add an additional $299.99 to the MICROSCOPIC** price shown on the enclosed order form. ** Because the printed price is, in fact, microscopic, you may need a microscope to read it. However, if you are ordering by credit card (strongly recommended), you can leave the "Enclosed Amount" line on the order form blank, and I'll fill it in for you at no extra cost! (Be sure to tell me what your available credit balance is, so that I can adjust the price accordingly.) *** The duration of this offer may vary, depending on how long it takes the FBI to catch on. **** While I make no guarantees that you will SOAR TO FINANCIAL HEIGHTS, you are more than welcome to stand on your copy of "Mountains of Gold Guidebook." ===== Scott Stoffel is a deaf and illegally blind safety engineer retired from the Federal Aviation Administration. (Editor's Note: Hey! Is that how Scott is able to afford the weekly $2,500 bribes he gives to me for running his column?) Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11.9 10 September 2009 ===== Who do you want to be the next president of Gallaudet University? http://clercscar.com/letter.html ===== DODO HANDS Raymond Luczak Lines: 8 [Poem] "Sign language should be as extinct as the dodo bird!" --Helen E. Waite, author of a book on Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan Macy, March 26, 1960 Without sign language, Helen Keller wouldn't have discovered the holy water, nor Ms. Waite the royalties accrued. These days when medical technology isn't enough to cure one's ailing sight and diminishing hearing--all those side effects of growing old-- the good old language of touch will have to do, and sing. ===== Raymond Luczak's latest book is Assembly required: Notes from a Deaf Gay Life. Six of his poems appear in Deaf American Poetry, which is available at http://www.clercscar.com/books. Raymond's Web site is at http://www.raymondluczak.com. ===== We welcome letters to the editor in response to this piece. Send to editor@clercscar.com. We reserve the right to edit letters for space and clarity or not to publish a letter. We are always open to submissions. Submit your writing, artwork, or video to editor@clercscar.com. To subscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Subscribe daily" or "Subscribe weekly." To unsubscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Unsubscribe me." Find us on Twitter and Facebook! Back to Top ==================================================================================== Clerc Scar 11 11 September 2009 FEEDBACK FRIDAY ===== Dear Editors: I read the review of Blind Rage with interest. I'm glad it mentioned at least that Helen Keller did use sign before Anne Sullivan came along. However, it didn't mention anything about Martha Washington, Helen's playmate who signed with Helen but nobody knows much about her. I first read about her in Wikipedia: "At that time, she was able to communicate somewhat with Martha Washington, the six-year-old daughter of the family cook, who understood her signs; by the age of seven, she had over sixty home signs to communicate with her family. According to Soviet blind-deaf psychologist A. Meshcheryakov, Martha's friendship and teaching was crucial for Helen's later developments." I tried to find out more about this Martha Washington. She was of African-American heritage. Helen Keller writes about her in her autobiography and admitts dominance over her. I also read about the harsh racism that people of Martha's race experienced. Helen Keller's father was reluctant to let Helen give Martha and her mother a gift. Anne Sullivan agreed 'to inclurage charity' but the gift could have been more one of gratitude as Martha was there first. It's a pity that Martha's name had been lost while Anne Sullivan got all the glory. I wonder if the signing had been more apreciated then, whether other deafblind children wouldn't have been exposed more to it. Instead of the assumsion that Helen's makeshift signs were just 'primative'. Helene Ryles, England ===== Dear Editors: I enjoyed Kathi Wolfe's poems on Helen Keller. The poems are barbed yet simple, colorful yet scorching. Mary J. Thornley ===== We welcome letters to the editor in response to this piece. Send to editor@clercscar.com. We reserve the right to edit letters for space and clarity or not to publish a letter. We are always open to submissions. Submit your writing, artwork, or video to editor@clercscar.com. To subscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Subscribe daily" or "Subscribe weekly." To unsubscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Unsubscribe me." Find us on Twitter and Facebook! Visit our archives or bookstore at http://www.clercscar.com. Copyright 2009 by Clerc Scar. All rights reserved. Back to Top ==================================================================================== privacy policy : site map : contact us