Man On Wire
When Man On Wire first showed up on our library shelves I was jazzed. I wanted to check it out right then, but someone else was waiting for it, so I put myself in line. Then I looked at the back to make sure it had subtitles in English. UGH! Nothing. As an award winner, it was one of many films on my list last year. Thank God for cable television. Finally, after months and months of waiting it came out on the Sundance channel—with captions.
One thing I don’t get. Half the movie was subtitled in English because several of the characters spoke French. Clipping corners is understandable when you’re a small timer on a budget, but I can’t help wondering if it really would have cost that much more to subtitle the entire thing? Especially now that it’s so highly acclaimed.
Other recent captioning disappointments–
- Rachel Getting Married– The “making of the movie scenes” were weirdly captioned over the actual movie dialog.
- Arranged.
- Born Into Brothels
- The Boy in the Striped Pajamas Subtitled in Spanish only.
- Dear Zachary
- Encounters at the End of the World
- Junebug. Subtitled only in French.
- Mama Mia. Are you kidding me? Meryl Streep? Am I missing something here?
- Sunshine Cleaning.
It’s worth mentioning that sometimes about a year or two after a movie has become critically acclaimed and won lots of awards, DVD’s with English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing will finally be released. Notably, Slumdog Millionnaire, Miss Pettigrew and Juno were finally released with English subtitles after I had already seen them on TV.
One thing I have trouble with on my particular HDTV is that we can only watch subtitled DVD’s, not ‘captioned for the hearing impaired.’ I’m not sure why. If anyone has an answer to this let me know. We have a Vizio TV and a Samsung blue-ray DVD player. Netflix will send us a substitute DVD if my husband calls to complain, even though it is technically my fault for missing that there were no subtitles.
I’m thrilled that the vast majority of films are subtitled, but there’s still room for improvement.
I’m having a love affair with my hearing aids. It’s not that I can hear perfectly with them or anything, but I am hearing everything way better than I ever have in a long time. I have been participating in office chit-chat — something I’ve never done before, and work has become so fun because of it.
So– in the past month several people have mentioned they couldn’t see my hearing aids with my thick hair. And it would have been fine to just make an observation, but they said they couldn’t see my aids as if it were a GOOD thing. Like “WOW– I can’t even SEE your aids. I didn’t know you were wearing hearing aids. (smile, smile)” Or “I love your hair at that length. I can’t even see your hearing aids.”
And that bothered me. Why should it matter if my hearing aids show? I LOVE my aids. They help me hear. They are the coolest aids I have ever owned.
Just recently I was reading over at the Cochlear Kids blog about a mom discussing her fear of parking lots with her two young deaf children in tow. If you haven’t read this blog I urge you to take a look.
Coincidentally, this past week we got into a conversation about parking lots in the Say What Club. When you are late-deafened, sometimes you don’t realize what you can’t hear. My eyes have become my ears, and that is no where more evident than when I’m in a busy parking lot.
Not long ago a coworker nearly mowed me down on my way into the building. People should never speed in parking lots, but we get careless when we’re in a hurry. That morning I was hurrying into the building, and she was hurrying into the lot. I didn’t see her. She barely braked in time. It could happen to anyone I suppose, but in a hearing world, my ears might have alerted me to the danger.
A good parking lot strategy is to park at the side of the building closest to the side walk and crosswalks whenever possible. However, busy parking lots can fill up and we sometimes find ourselves walking down long rows of cars coming and going.
Because of the hazard parking lots pose to deaf people, some of my friends think we should have our own parking spaces. I have mixed feelings about it as I don’t like to think of myself as ‘disabled’ to that extent. I can walk just fine and I can walk a long way. I am not handicapped.
Still– I can’t deny that parking lots are unsafe for those of us who have been deafened later in life, as well as young deaf children. The only deaf people who seem perfectly comfortable in parking lots are adults who grew up deaf. Many deaf adults have honed their observation skills to such an extent they seem to have a sixth sense. But what about the rest of us?
What do you think? Vote here.
Remember this? I spent hours making cool designs with this thing as a kid. It came with little serrated wheels, colored pens, a piece of cardboard and pins to hold one wheel in place. You stuck the pen in the other wheel and rolled it around the stationary wheel. Eventually with lots of patience and determination your design would take the shape of a something amazing and spectacular. Think about a one-dimensional fractal on white computer paper (which of course didn’t exist in the 1960’s) We called it “typing paper” because back then adults actually stuck 8×11 inch paper into typewriters to type official documents and letters. The spirograph is this picture isn’t mine, but I found one exactly like it in my closet. Think I might make a spirograph right now, and post it on the fridge for my husband and kids to admire when they get home.
(Editor’s note–Not easy! Still trying to make something with this thing.)
I may have to down grade my deaf identity from “deaf” to hard-of-hearing. Seriously I think I’m hearing so well with these Naidas.
Several of us met in a Mexican restaurant on Friday for dinner– a group of twelve. Think horrible acoustics because of tiled floors and Friday night crowds. We were literally smack in the middle of the restaurant– no high backed booth seats shelter us from all that sound bouncing off the floor and walls. After my noise reduction program kicked in I could hear those around me amazingly well. Normally something like this would have been a hearing nightmare.
Then, today I went to a movie “Up in the Air”. The movie was open-captioned of course, and I liked it. But the best thing was that I wasn’t relying on the captions the entire time. I don’t remember the last time I went to a movie and actually watched it instead of reading the script from beginning to end. Not that I would even consider going to a non-captioned movie, but it was nice to be able to hear some of the dialog.
I can’t think of a better day to discuss labels than the day we celebrate Martin Luther King’s life. Why is it so important to us in the deaf/Deaf/hh community what language we use, or whether we wear cochlear implants or hearing aids or nothing at all? What difference does it make if I am hard of hearing and you are deaf? Like Martin Luther King, I too have dreams. I dream of a day when the community of deaf and hard of hearing people finally unite under a spirit of friendship. I dream of the day when we support all deaf peoples’ right to access. I dream of the day when deaf children will be included in every activity at their schools, and deaf adults will easily find employment. I dream of a day when we are judged not on how we communicate but on our work ethics.
It happened again. This time I was at the store, and there was a problem with my credit card. First she had to call to get an ‘authorization’ for a $30.00 purchase, then she’ waited on the phone forever, looking at me suspiciously. A line begins to pile up behind.
There should have been plenty of money in the account. Next thing I know the cashier is shoving the phone at my face. They want to talk to you, she says.
I don’t use phones.
They need to talk to you. Just try.
I’m very hard-of-hearing. I’m practically deaf. I show her my zebra print aids. See? I wear hearing aids.
She’s looking at me with disbelief. I know what she’s thinking. I’ve heard it a thousand times. You don’t SOUND deaf.
She explains to the person on the other end. She says she doesn’t use phones. Eyes me suspiciously again.
Uh-huh. MMMM. Uh-huh. . . You need to talk to them, she says. Somethings wrong with your card. She turns the volume up on her phone.
You don’t understand, I say. I read lips. I don’t use phones. If I use a phone at all it’s an accommodated one. I never use a regular phone, I NEVER talk to strangers on a phone–only people I know, whose voices I know, who will yell into the phone because they know I’m deaf, and I only use accommodated phones.
No use. I have to talk to someone on a phone. People are staring at me now. I grab the phone.
Helloo?
I hear nothing.
I hand it back. I hear nothing, I say. I’m not being entirely truthful. I did hear something. I could tell someone was talking, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. I’m not about to explain the ins and outs of hearing loss.
She gets on the phone. She hears nothing, she explains. Uh-huh. Oooh. mmmm-hmmmm. . . Okaay.” she hangs up.
There’s a problem with your card. You need to call the number on the back of it.
You don’t understand. I don’t use phones. . .I try to explain again, then give up.
I pay with another card.
Turned out my card had been ‘compromised’ — as in identity theft. The account has been closed. They will be sending a new card with a new number. ARGGHH! I hate phones, and credit card companies, which will then need to be activated by phone. My husband will do those part for me. Luckily he is only hard of hearing, not deaf. He can hear a little with his right ear still.
If you had told me two decades ago that I would make an appointment to have a guy stick pins all up and down my spine and that I would LIKE it, I would have said you were crazy. But that’s exactly what happened last Monday.
After several years of neck pain that brings on severe migraine headaches lasting days at a time, I have tried almost everything western medicine has to offer. I have seen two neurologists, an otolaryngologist, a physiatrist, a chiropractor, and two physical therapists. So far, I’ve been told the neck pain and migraines are possibly caused by small seizures in the brain, teeth clenching, a hole in my heart, sinusitis, stress, vitamin deficiency, hormones, arthritis in the spine and allergy. I have popped pills and vitamins, undergone surgeries, kicked caffeine, red wine, sugar, bread, and meat, stretched muscles, dieted, embraced organic meat and vegetables, reduced household chemicals , strengthened muscles, taken up meditation, worn a night guard to bed, endured neck cracking, and pretty much everything else anyone ever suggested, except acupuncture. Until Monday.
I can’t say I was overly excited when my spine guy mentioned it, though I wasn’t totally against it. “Since you’re having doubts about surgery,” he said, “why not try acupuncture?“
“Seriously?”
“Can’t hurt.”
I went for my first acupuncture appointment last Monday, and felt almost immediate relief. Since then I’ve been wondering how this works. Clearly I’m not one of those people who usually suffers a placebo effect. Otherwise I would have seen at least temporary relief from all the other treatments and pills. I’ve been googling acupuncture. Western scientists don’t know how or why it works. Except for the fact that it does work, nothing supports the Chinese theory of Qi, the basis of acupuncture. The Chinese claim acupuncture redirects flow of energy; something is out of whack and it balances the yin and yang. They have been using it effectively for nearly 5000 years.
Curiously Americans ignored acupuncture until the 1970s when a reporter accompanying President Nixon to China had an emergency appendectomy. During recovery, acupuncture relieved post-op pain. His legendary article appeared in the Washington Post a few weeks later, and the Traditional Chinese Medicine movement took off here in the states. Even so, it wasn’t until the past decade that western doctors have started prescribing it and medical insurance companies began covering it. It has almost become mainstream.
Who would’ve thought?
As a general rule I avoid swimming and swimming pools. Everything changed when my doctor ordered water aerobics as a low impact exercise that would promote strength, flexibility and balance. Still, I resisted. But when the local Y offered their annual “no joining fee” promotion, I decided to give it a try. I bought some of those ear gear things that go over your aids as protection.
Ear Gear isn’t totally water proof, but you don’t have to stick your head under in the pool when you do water aerobics. I wanted people to see them. That way they would remember I couldn’t hear (and hopefully realize that was why I was going the wrong direction all the time.) I bought bright blue. I wore my old aids as an added safe guard– just in case a hearing aid flew off my head, which hasn’t happened in nearly thirty years of wearing hearing aids, but you never know what could happen when you’re not prepared.
Driving to the pool for the first time I wondered, Would I be able to hear? Would people splash, so I couldn’t see through my glasses? Would I be able to follow along? Would other swimmers think I was rude if they tried to be friendly and I didn’t answer them? Would they think I was weird if I went the wrong way too often?
Turned out all that worry was for nothing–
- I don’t need to hear since the instructor stands on the side of the pool to demonstrate her moves. Good-bye aids.
- No one splashes, so my glasses stay dry.
- Sometimes people say stuff to me, and I just tell them I can’t hear well. DUH!
It’s really fun, and I wish I had not thrown up all these road blocks that prevented me from trying it earlier.
If you’ve been following this blog you know that Wash-Cap has been negotiating for theater access all over Seattle and western Washington. Because of their wonderful work I have been able to attend two captioned musicals in the past year at the Paramount, something I have missed doing for at least two decades. So it’s a great time to be living here in Seattle and to have all these accommodations suddenly available for the late-deafened who don’t know sign language fluently. But there’s still plenty of work to do. Four or five captioned theater performances per year simply isn’t enough.
One thing about being late-deafened is we’ve been shut out of a lot services even with the ADA in place. Most theaters understand that Deaf means possible ASL interpreter, and there is the occasional ASL performance offered (and I do mean very occasional). In no way do I mean to imply the Deaf have it easy. Most theaters also offer infrared headsets for the moderately Hearing Impaired. However, no one ever offers captioned performances for the Late-deafened without a fight. They simply don’t see us as deaf enough, since we speak English and don’t know ASL fluently. We fall through the cracks. We’re too deaf to benefit from the infrared headphones, but not deaf enough to benefit from ASL interpreted performances.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from this small theater. John Waldo of Wash-Cap reminded us during an ALDA workshop recently that “Perfect in the enemy of good. “ I’ve been thinking about how to apply that to my life in general. If you go in requesting the moon, you aren’t likely to get it. The idea is to start out small which seems counter-intuitive to a lot of us. In other types of negotiations you start out asking for more than you want, then compromise. But only if the person you’re haggling with expects it. So John’s advice is to let them get used to the idea that there are people out there who can’t hear and who don’t speak ASL fluently. Let them have some success offering a smaller accommodation, then ask for something more next time. It’s kind of a back door way of getting what you want.
Since this was basically a dance routine with a little bit of dialog, I only asked for the script. And honestly I expected a bit of a fight even for that. I didn’t really have much time to fight since it was the week before Christmas. The performances were nearly sold out and the theater had every reason to balk, not that it would cost them anything. But if they haven’t been asked for a script before they were likely to think it a strange and unusual request, and to decline.
The concierge at the W was very helpful. He took up the fight on my behalf, but I have to admit I wasn’t that optimistic. I expected the Triple Door would say no and he would tell me when I arrived that they had declined. End of story. Hearing people are not used to fighting for access. They don’t know the laws, and are generally inclined to give up easily. Most late-deafened are the same until they learn you don’t ever get accommodated by giving up. The concierge left messages on my cell phone throughout the week which I couldn’t hear, but I knew he was working on it. Even if he was successful in obtaining a script, I had concerns about seeing it once we got inside the theater. Most theaters are too dark for reading.
When we got to the Triple Door I was pleased to see that they had copied off the script, but even more surprising was that they had reserved seats for all four of us right down in the center front row, so close that our table actually pushed right up against the stage. We couldn’t have been any closer. Moreover, the lighting from the stage lit up my script so that I could read along easily. They went above and beyond. The show was absolutely fabulous! We couldn’t have had a more fun night.
WOW!
I have posted over at the SayWhatClub Blog about the hearing spin put on the sobering reality of hearing loss
