Skunks in Brown Shoes

"Dad, what was it like before you were a CODA," asked my youngest tax deduction Kisha.

That seemingly simple and innocent question stopped me in mid rock and caused me to fumble my pipe, knocking hot pipe ashes all over me. As I intermixed choice four letter words with with frantic brushing of hot pipe ash off my chest, that question just lingered in the air like passed gas in a crowded elevator. (Take my word for it friend, neither spilled hot pipe ash on your chest, mistakenly passed gas in a crowed elevator, or a child asking a thoughtful question are enjoyable things to a father. )

For those of you who haven't learned this little fact of life, let me educate you on a truism about fathers; fathers do not multitask by choice. Fathers are simple folk. When we sit; we sit. When we puff on a pipe; we puff on a pipe. Never, never do we ever mix sitting, or pipe puffing with taxing activities like thoughtfully answering questions. No, that would be doing two tasks simultaneously and fathers are just not wired for such complexities. If seeking a meaningful, well thought-out, meant to enlighten and educate, answer to a question, children should at all cost avoid fathers. Fathers were not put on this Earth for such things. Should a child have the need to search out insightful, life altering, answers to soul burning questions, best they ask Nobel Peace Prize recipients, Ivy League Cosmology majors, or mothers. Mothers are just looking for moments to give their children answers that are dripping with emotion, intellect and enlightenment. Never, ever should a question requiring intellect be asked of a father. ( I hear you all "tsk, tsking" and "tut, tuting" as you shake your heads disdainfully, yet I say it is a fact. Let me give you an example which illustrate my point clearly. When my Experimental Child, that's my oldest child Zack for those of you not up on my children's nicknames, was in kindergarten, he mistakenly asked me just such a question. I gave him the best "Dad logic" answer known to man, patted him on the head, and sat back in smug fatherly satisfaction with my own brilliance. Wouldn't you know it, the next day Zack came home with a non-to-pleasant note pinned to him. The note was from his kindergarten teacher, lacking any sense of amusement or understanding of the "Dad logic" in Zack's response to her question. How was I to know, two days before Thanksgiving break, a teacher would be serious when she asked her class to think about something for which they are truly thankful. Zack did think about it, asked me, and returned the with my answer. Let me ask you, what reasonably intelligent person wouldn't be truly thankful they were not born a dog. Just think about it, if you had been born a dog, you'd have a life full of sniffing your friends butts every time you meet them. I for one was truly thankful then, and still am to this day thankful, I was not born into such a life. I can only surmise that my brilliantly deducted "Dad logic" was just too much for Zack's teacher, and that is the reason she gave him his first recess detention. It's just that kind of thinking by the educational system which made my first three years of kindergarten such a nightmare for me and my teachers.)

My first reaction was to give my little Amazon Princess the look only a truly loving father can give. You know the look, it's when a father drops his head low, keeping eye contact with their child, as his brain freezes with the sudden mental charlie horse brought on by the question. As I slowly recovered my ability to speak, I sputtered, "What!? What did you say?"

"Well duh Dad," Kisha responded as she painfully, slowly,  proceeded to sign and speak the question to me again, as though the decreased speed my help my comprehension. ( I must admit, it was amazing to see the same look Farah gives me when I overwhelm her with "Husband logic" on Kish's face. It was kinda scary too.)

Naturally, I did the only thing any mature father would do, I painfully, slowly, signed and spoke, " I understand your question. What I don't understand is what you mean "before" I was a CODA?"

"Dad, 'before' means, 'During the period of time prior to now,'" Kisha said so mater of factly, "You know, that time before you knew you were a CODA."

My first thought was how parents should resist at all cost the urge to teach their babies to talk; it only leads to pain.  Just as I was done regretting Kisha's mastery of language, I was struck by the enormity of what she asked me. All I could do was slump back in my rockingchair and listen to that question reverberate throughout my skull. How could my darling little Amazon Princess ask me such a question, I pondered in total disbelief and despair.

The question was stark proof of a horrifying reality I just wasn't ready to face. Oh, there had been plenty of hints, all of which I willingly choose to ignore in some sort of mental self defense. The hints were times like when her baby teeth come out; her fascination with the little red headed boy at school; or when Farah said Kisha needed training bras. All of those warning signs were easy to push past, but this was a wall of reality I just couldn't climb. As much as I wasn't ready for it, my baby girl was growing up.

I knew this day would come. There was no way to avoid it. I just hadn't expect it to come so soon.

My tiny father brain was awash with flashes of the murky, mist filled memories of my life before I was a CODA. Memories all mucked up by that one damnfully thoughtful question. ( Before you all start typing out scathing comments to me about how "damnfully" is not a word, I'm aware of this, but damn it should be! )

That's not completely true, I have never had a life "before" I was a CODA. No CODA ever has had a life when they weren't a child of Deaf parents. We are born into our lives as children of Deaf parents. That much is true and can't ever be changed.

However, there is that moment in the life of every child born to Deaf parents when they become a "CODA". As much as I wasn't ready for it, my little Amazon Princess has had that moment. The scattered puzzle pieces of Kisha's "duel world" life had snapped into place and she can see the whole picture. She saw crystal clear that what she had known as the "duel world" life of living between her mother's loving world of "Deaf", and the outside, much larger world, of "Hearing", were not her world. No, my baby girl had discovered she walked through two worlds, seeing the beauty and ugly side of those worlds, speaking the language of both worlds, but she lived in a third world. A separate and distinct world from what she had known. Kisha had taken her first step into the in-between world of "CODA". 

I remembered how for me, there had been two moments in my life which made the puzzle pieces snap together. (Yeah, so what if my life shaping, self defining, world view puzzle had only two pieces that took me 12 years to put together, what of it?! All I can say is I'm simple. Deal with it. )

The first time was while watching Saturday morning cartoons, and the Looney Tunes character Pepe Le Pew came on. Watching him, the first piece of my puzzle became clear, Pepe was a CODA. You know, he's the skunk with a life full of running after romantic love. All is great at first. Then comes the unfailing moment when the world he lives in, catches a waft of his stink, and he is once again cast adrift alone. His relationships with the "un-stinky" world is much a kin to a CODA's relationship with the "un-CODA" world. ( Think about it, Pepe was bewildered when people pointed at him and said "le pew". That's the life of a CODA, right there. CODA's are the "le pew" in the collective nostrils of the world around us. Just like Pepe, CODA's see the world around us as a bewildering place.)

The second piece of my puzzle was given to me by the old time entertainer George Gobel. He had been a guest on the "Tonight Show" with Johnny Carson. At one point, George looked at Johnny and said, "Did you ever get the feeling that the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?"

Right then, BAM, my puzzle had fit together and all was clear me. The mist that had shrouded the world around me was gone.

Each CODA, whether they recognize it or not, has had that moment when a jumble of disconnected puzzle pieces suddenly all snapped together, and their "two bean life" had suddenly fit into a "three bean salad" world.

After being reminded of all that, I began a long talk with Kisha about the world she, Zack and I shared. How it's a special world, a wonderful world, a world that can never be fully removed or split from the world of Farah, Jaden and my parents. A world that is a part of the Deaf world. About how without Deaf, there can never be CODA. Separate and different are the Deaf and CODA worlds, yet intertwined and inseparable.

"Let me just sum up all I've said by telling you this Kisha, never has any person, in the whole history of the world, ever lived without being born. Yet, in all the millions of people born on this world, there has only ever been two kinds of people; CODA's and all the rest who wish they were a CODA. Do you understand?"

After a thoughtful pause, Kisha looked at me and said, ". Well duh Dad, we speak the same language. I understand, CODA's, like Zack, you and me, are all skunks in brown shoes."