"The Day My Home Was Invaded by A G Bell (spit!)"

The house I lived in was a well known house in Kent when I was young. You see, my house was the only house in Kent without a phone. Not only was it the only home in Kent without a phone, it was the only house in Kent without a phone that was owned by a deaf couple. To be more exact, it was the phone-less house, owned by non-other than the well known, home town boy, "Deaf Bob" and his wife "Deaf Bob's Wife".(There's a whole story on how my Pop got the name "Deaf Bob"...other than the obvious reasons that he is deaf and his name is Bob. That's a different story for a different post and time.)

You see, way back when I was young, before the technological leap into the age of the "Jetsons" with the introduction of the mechanical Teletype Device for the Deaf: a.k.a. the "TTY". (I hear many if you gasping at my misspelling, yet I assure you "TTY" is correct. None of this "TDD" business. I'm using the name the deafies I grew up used. Not the hearing imposed name of "TDD".) In the dark days before the mechanical beast of a TTY, there wasn't much sense in having a phone in the house of a deaf couple. Why would they need it? Just to have the honor of paying a bill? Besides, the phone was the creation of that vile man A G Bell, (spit!), and my Pop wasn't going to line his pockets with money.

How did we live without a phone? Well that's simple, we did the time honored tradition in the Deaf Community back then of going to Grandma's house. She could hear, therefore she had a phone. (She was an oral teacher of the deaf and I always suspected she had dated A G Bell, (spit!), in her younger days. To this day, I can never get anyone in the family to fess-up to such a horrid family skeleton.)

All was fine and sunny in my small hometown of Kent till the day my happy idyllic childhood came crashing down upon me. Oh, I remember that day as through it were yesterday. One moment our home was the beautiful and serene Twelve Oaks and I was the young, idealistic Ashley Wilkes. The next moment, after the fateful words were spoke by my Grandmother, "I have exciting news. You house is getting a phone. Isn't that wonderful?", I was transformed into the brooding Ashley Wilkes of the war torn and desolated Tara. I kid you not, it was that traumatic! (For those of you who don't get the joke about Ashley Wilkes, watch "Gone With The Wind" and you'll get it.)

There I was, struggling with the drama and horrors of kindergarten in a non-CODA friendly public school system at five years old, only to have the security of my phone-less home ripped from me too. There was no fighting it modern technology was entering my life and I had no say in it. See, Grandma said she and Grandpa were moving to Florida and it would be just a little to far to walk and ask her to make a phone call for us. She said it was time my sisters and I had some responsibility. We could help our parents by making calls for them. (This was also the day I learned to curse A G Bell, (spit!), and his infernal telephone wrought in the firry furnace of Hades himself! From this monstrosity of scientific mishap came the crushing and unforgiving phrase, "It's a CODA's responsibility to make phone calls". Oh how my youth was ended!)

The sad day came and I was the lone CODA in the house to witness the horror. I watched with watery eyes and tear streaked face as the Minions of Bell, (spit!), installed the black, wall mounted, kitchen phone.

When they left, Grandma came to proudly gaze on the ugly plastic beast. She told me how she was going home and how she would call our house and I was to tell my parents when the phone rang. Being the helpless pawn, I said ok. Off she went, her teacher high heeled shoes clicking on the sidewalk all the way to her house.

I waited...waited...waited..."briiiinnngggg" the beast rang. I jumped, my parents jumped from seeing me jump. I looked to the phone, my parents looked to the phone. I said it was ringing, it's ringing my parents said. Then it stopped. We all looked at each other. Suddenly, I jumped again an again my parents jumped from seeing me jump. I looked at the phone again, they looked at the phone again. I said its ringing again, they said its ringing again. (We repeated this scene two more times.) Then the phone stopped.

Soon I hear the clicking of Grandma's heels outside. She came in and said she didn't understand why the phone wasn't working? He had called several times. She asked if I had heard it ring? I said yes. She asked if I had told my parents? I said yes. "Then why didn't you answer it?" she asked?

"Answer what?" I asked her.

"Answer the phone."

"It didn't ask me anything", I answered her in my best five year old CODA logic.

She just looked at me in amazement. Then explained how I was to pick up the phone and listen when I heard it ring. She repeated herself to be sure I got it and spoke slowly, loudly in the fashion of an oral teacher.( Come on, we all know if a hearing person speaks slowly and loudly, any deaf person will understand them easily...or so Grandma thought. Guess she thought this applied to CODA's too)

Off she went and click, click,click went her heels. "Brrriiiimnnnggg" went the phone, jump went I, jump went my parents at seeing me jump. I looked at my patents wide eyed. They looked at me wide eyed. We all walked to the phone. I stretched out my hand and nervously picked it up and listened.

"Hello?...Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?", Grandma asked on the phone.

My eyes grew wider and my mouth gapped open as I listened.

Pop signed to me, "Grandma yours hear you can Grandma?", (Pop grew up in boarding schools.), I nodded my head yes. Pop looked at Mom wide eyed and signed, "Hear can hear him can Grandma". Mom looked wide eyes at Pop, then to me wide eyed and signed, "Can you hear Grandma?" (Mom grew up oral.) Yes I nodded my head and hung up the phone.

Grandma was nothing I she wasn't persistent. She called three more times and said the same thing every time. Each time she called, Mom, Pop and I went through the same conversation.

This time I didn't hear the "click, click, click" of Grandma's high heels on the sidewalk before she came in the house. She came in barefoot. Seems all the walking back and forth between her house and ours made her feet sore. (A week later I found her high heeled shoes in the bushes up the street.)

"Couldn't you hear me on the phone boy?!". I nodded yes.

"Then why in heaven's name didn't you say anything?", she asked me all exasperated.

"Because you told me to pick up the phone and listen. You didn't say anything about talking. And Grandma, what is heaven's name? Isn't it just "heaven"? Does it have a different special name?", I asked.

_______
There must be something genetically happening here. Do you recall in the other story when I told Kisha she had to wear the "yes-ter-day, smelly jeans" to school, the look she gave me? Yeah, that woman DNA, "you can't really be this stupid" look. That was the exact same look Grandma gave me all those years before, right after I answered her as to why I didn't talk when I picked up the phone. Genetics are amazing! Both Grandma and Kisha with that exact same look. Come to think of it, Farah gets that same look when I talk to her. Woman DNA, go figure.
______

Grandma just stood there open mouthed and speechless. After a few minutes, she explained how I was to wait to hear the phone ring, pick it up, listen AND speak to her.

"Slap, slap, slap" went her bare feet on the sidewalk a she left looking very tired and as though she'd been run over by a Mack truck. Soon the phone rang, I answered it, listened and spoke. All went well and on the first try. We had our first phone.

Funny thing though, Grandma didn't come back after that call. She didn't come back for a month. And when she did, it was to say goodbye, the house is sold and she and Grandpa were packed for Florida.