The Road Not Taken

A poem, by Robert Frost, that I should have put in the blog a long time ago..
For us, it describes the choices we have made for Lotte. Her CI, the languages we were going to use, what kind of school and many other decisions, big and small..
Thanks Jodi for reminding me..

Shown below, the glass picture I had made for my wife, based on the poem.
........................................................................................................................

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference

 

...Robert Frost

Found it... The rhymes...

It's all about "10 little indians" and catching fish.. 

School is GREAT !!!

Perfect That Way

I posted the lyrics below in a post on a messageboard. The lyrics are very touching, and even though I do not see Lotte in this way, it is good to realise that there are many different people in this world.

On Hands & Voices, I found the link to the actual singer and a story about her. And, almost as a bonus, there's a MP3 there with the song.. all the way on the bottom.... or click here.

(Get your hankies out!)

Perfect That Way She was born a little less than perfect at least in that doctor's eyes he said that she'll be different much more than you ever realized that girl grew up not knowing the sound of her mama's voice God's gift to her was silence in a world so full of noise and she sings with her smile and talks with her hands she listens with her heart so she always understands she believes there's more to life than the sounds that it makes she's perfect that way shes got a sign for the thunder one for the wind and the rain she's the kind that keeps you laughing and the first to see your pain and she sings with her smile and talks with her hands she listens with her heart so she always understands she believes there's more to life than the sounds that it makes she's perfect that way she believes there's more to life than the sounds that it makes she's perfect that way she was born a little less than perfect at least in that doctor's eyes.

A reaction came on my post, saying:

"Cloggy - I am confused.... you brought up this poem which say that a deaf child is perfect that way. (I really related to that poem) Yet, you had your daughter implanted bilaterally."

My reply was:

"Fair question... My daughter is perfect, like everyone else.

And before we knew about CI, we accepted how this child was going to learn us something. A new language, a new way to "travel"

When we heard about CI, we investigated, and found out that this perfect girl would be able to join us in our hearing world. Would that make her more perfect - NO. (How can one improve on perfect?)

It would however give her more connection to her family, friends, people around her.

Would she be less perfect had she not had CI.. NO.. She would still be her.

We made it possible for her to hear. As parents, we made that choice because she was too smal to do it herself. With making the decision for her, we made sure that the possibilities that are there, are used to the maximum..

Again, she was perfect when she was born. She still is..

Perhaps you have to look at it this way... We didn't fix anything. We gave her someting."

What is it like to be deaf?

"What is it like to be deaf?"
People have asked me.
Deaf? Oh, hmm... how do I explain that?
Simple: I can't hear.

No, wait... it is much more than that.
It is similar to a goldfish in a bowl,
Always observing things going on.
People talking at all times.
It is like a man on his own island
Among foreigners.

Isolation is no stranger to me.
Relatives say hi and bye
But I sit for 5 hours among them
Taking great pleasure at amusing babies
Or being amused by TV.
Reading books, resting, helping out with food.

Natural curiosity perks up
Upon seeing great laughter, crying, anger.
Inquiring only to meet with a "Never mind" or
"Oh, it's not important".
Getting a summarized statement
Of the whole day.

I'm supposed to smile to show my happiness.
Little do they know how truly miserable I am.
People are in control of language usage,
I am at loss and really uncomfortable!

Always feeling like an outsider
Among the hearing people,
Even though it was not their intention.

Always assuming that I am part of them
By my physical presence, not understanding
The importance of communication.

Facing the choice between Deaf Event weekend
or a family reunion.
Facing the choice between the family commitment
And Deaf friends.
I must make the choices constantly,
Any wonder why I choose Deaf friends???

I get such great pleasure at the Deaf clubs,
Before I realize it, it is already 2:00 am,
Whereas I anxiously look at the clock
Every few minutes at the Family Reunion.

With Deaf people, I feel so normal,
Our communication flows back and forth.
Catch up with little trivials, our daily life,
Our frustration in the bigger world,
Seeking the mutual understanding,
Contented smiles and laughter are musical.
So magical to me,
So attuned to each other's feelings.

True happiness is so important.
I feel more at home with Deaf people
Of various color, religion, short or tall.
Than I do among my own hearing relatives.
And you wonder why?
Our language is common.
We understand each other.

Being at loss of control
Of the environment that is communication,
People panic and retreat to avoid
Deaf people like the plague.

But Deaf people are still human beings
With dreams, desires, and needs
To belong, just like everyone else.



--Dianne Kinnee (Switras)

You have to be Deaf to understand

You Have to be deaf to understand the deaf
What is it like to "hear" a hand?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to be a small child,
In a school, in a room void of sound --
With a teacher who talks and talks and talks;
And then when she does come around to you,
She expects you to know what she's said?
You have to be deaf to understand.

Or the teacher thinks that to make you smart,
You must first learn how to talk with your voice;
So mumbo-jumbo with hands on your face
For hours and hours without patience or end,
Until out comes a faint resembling sound?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to be curious,
To thirst for knowledge you can call your own,
With an inner desire that's set on fire --
And you ask a brother, sister, or friend
Who looks in answer and says, "Never Mind"?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What it is like in a corner to stand,
Though there's nothing you've done really wrong,
Other than try to make use of your hands
To a silent peer to communicate
A thought that comes to your mind all at once?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to be shouted at
When one thinks that will help you to hear;
Or misunderstand the words of a friend
Who is trying to make a joke clear,
And you don't get the point because he's failed?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to be laughed in the face
When you try to repeat what is said;
Just to make sure that you've understood,
And you find that the words were misread --
And you want to cry out, "Please help me, friend"?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to have to depend
Upon one who can hear to phone a friend;
Or place a call to a business firm
And be forced to share what's personal, and,
Then find that your message wasn't made clear?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to be deaf and alone
In the company of those who can hear --
And you only guess as you go along,
For no one's there with a helping hand,
As you try to keep up with words and song?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like on the road of life
To meet with a stranger who opens his mouth --
And speaks out a line at a rapid pace;
And you can't understand the look in his face
Because it is new and you're lost in the race?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to comprehend
Some nimble fingers that paint the scene,
And make you smile and feel serene,
With the "spoken word" of the moving hand
That makes you part of the word at large?
You have to be deaf to understand.

What is it like to "hear" a hand?
Yes, you have to be deaf to understand.

1971 - Willard J. Madsen, professor of journalism at Gallaudet University.