Momnesia

Here's Your Sign

AUGUSTA, GA. - We went down to Aquaduct Park this weekend - both days - to swim and picnic. It's free and it's fun, so there's no reason not to use it. Jumping off rocks into the water, climbing the waterfalls, diving down to look at the fish, rooting on the bottom to find shards of old pottery or spare change that fell out of someone's pocket in 1976... it's nice.

One guy, though, kept climbing around and grunting while shoving things into a plastic bag. I didn't understand what his problem was until I pulled Emmie out in the water on a bright orange inflatable mattress. "Ayyyy," he said to her, eyes wide and mouth grinning. "Oo flow!" She smiled up at him and nodded.

Hey. You float.

He had no problem. He was deaf. He didn't know he was making noises usually reserved for porny 70s "art house" films. He was just enjoying the water and picking up trash along the way.

My husband looked like a chicken dancer at a hockey game trying to communicate with him.
"Hey, the trash?" Scott showed him our own plastic "picnic basket." He gave him a thumbs-up. "Good job, man. Thanks."

"Eyh," the guy said. And made a gesture like he was drinking from a bottle or can. "Dose pepoh!" He chopped down and out with both hands, indicating no tolerance, and pointed up at the rocks surrounding us. "Ow!" He would kick those people out. Heck, yeah.

"My nay iz ess ee ah nn," he said, closed his eyes and concentrated. "Shhan. Shhahn. No. Sean," he said. "Was your nay?" He indicated that Scott should write the letters in the air, which he did, sloppily, while yelling them at Sean. "S! C! O! T! T!" he shouted, and Sean still couldn't hear him. But he understood. "Sot. No. Way." he closed his eyes and concentrated again. "Suh-cott. No." He shook his head in frustration. "De see an kay aw hahd," he said, indicating that those letters are all throat work. C's and K's are hard, buddy. Half the time they make the same sound. After a couple more tries, he got it. Scott spell-shouted my name for him.

"Was heh nay?" Sean asked, pointing at Emerson. Scott started to spell it out in the air again. Screw that. This will take all day. I stopped him and finger-spelled her name in sign. "Gah! No! Wait!" I used the sign for s instead of e. "E-M-M-I-E!"

"Haaaah!" Sean pointed at me, made a gesture for finger spelling, and then blew a raspberry at Scott. We laughed. It's a gesture I make at Scott quite frequently. "Emmie," Sean said, perfectly. "See byooful." Yes, she is, thank you.

"Scott, can't you finger spell?" I asked. Didn't everyone learn that in elementary school?

Apparently not, even though his Aunt Diane is 100% deaf. It's a simple thing. In no way could I expect to have a real conversation with Sean that way (think of conversations where you have to spell things in front of your children. I always get lost mid-word) and yet it made Sean's life that much easier for a few minutes. It wasn't necessary for him to gesticulate comically or try to make himself understood with guttural speech.

So, please, take the time to browse the chart below. It's actually an easier thing to learn than you might think if you say it out loud as you try. That combines both aural and kinesthetic learning. You'll be surprised how long you retain something like this. I mean, even if you only took high school Spanish 15 years ago, don't you at least remember the alphabet? Of course you do. Sign language is no different in learning and retention - but there aren't any online translators to help these folks write their papers. It's a daily struggle in a hearing world, and no matter how hard they try, they're still not going to make it without a little effort on our part.

Speaking of high school Spanish, I had a similar experience later at Teresa's on Walton Way. "Hi!" I said, when I went in to pick up dinner. "Ooh, what's the specials?" The host stepped aside so I could view the board. "Pollo fajita," it read. "Camarones racheros." Chicken fajita. Shrimp rancheros. And something I didn't recognize. "Mojarra frita."

"Excuse me; what is mojarra frita," I asked the host.

He looked at me cautiously: "Eh.. ees feesh, eh, dorado... I sorry. I no speak Eengleesh very well."

"That's okay. So, it's fish fried golden brown?" I asked. He brightened and nodded. Frito means fried, and it was on the menu board. He said fish - that much was useful - and dorado, which mean gold. That was my clue. As it turns out: Mojarra is also known as Pacific Flagfin, a fish I've never heard of. It's defined as any of several species of small, silvery, mainly tropical American marine fishes of the family Gerridae.

This guy was probably fresh out of the cargo hold of some awful coyote, or else he is the green-card-holding distant relative of one of the owners or managers. He was working a crappy job that an American college student would consider beneath them, trying to accomplish what was expected of him with a language barrier taller than any Mexican border fence. As with Sean, my slight ability to interpret what he was trying to say made his life easier for a couple of minutes. He tried hard to hold a conversation in English with me while I was waiting, and I tried to understand the Spanish words he had to rely on. We laughed at each others' mistranslations and at ourselves.

I'm not saying that anyone has to go out and learn Spanish, or vote against a giant wall along the Rio Grande, or relax immigration laws. I'm just saying that a little effort on your part - on my part - makes life easier for others. I've been reminded of that during just one day where I coincidentally encountered two people who communicate in ways that are vastly different both from each other and from the mainstream. I think I should have put a comma somewhere in that last sentence but I can't slow my roll to go back and edit.

I'm going to try my best to remember this when I go into an Asian restaurant and try to ask a question about the menu. Instead of getting irritated, I'm going to smile and try to make the waitress feel more at ease. Maybe her poor English will be improved by one word by they time I leave, and I'll know a little more - say, Chinese - than just "hello, how are you" and "thank you."

Anyway. Thanks for listening to me. I'm just struck by how easy it is to dismiss other people when communication becomes a barrier. I find those situations as exciting as uncharted ocean territory, and I like to explore them.

Here's Your Sign (Language)