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."

Illusions

Hey, hello there my old pal. So glad you've dropped by to see how things are here in my little slice of the Appalachian Rust Belt. Yes, yes it has been a long time since we last sat and chatted. You know how it is with true friends, no matter how long it's been since they visited, true friends can pick up as though no gap in time ever happened.

What's been going one here? Well, where do I start? Seems best place is to start is with today. How's that sound with you? Good, then let's start right here and now.

As it happens to be, I'm sitting here on the front veranda of Leland Manor, taking in the all there is to be had of a warm June rainy day. Oh, there are a great many things to be had on a day like today. The rain has a wonderful way of refreshing and making my little slice of the Appalachian Rust Belt seems all anew and shiny. I'm well aware it's all an illusion, yet illusions can be good things. How so you ask? Let me get another cup of strong, black coffee and I'll share the facts about illusions. What? You don't like strong, black coffee!? I'll have you know, that's the only way a true coffee drinker takes their caffeine. Why, my Grandfather use to always say, "Strong and black is the only way to have coffee. As a matter of fact, it's proven fact that the very best cup of coffee is one that's so strong and black it's on the very verge of busting out of its mug once poured and staggering off to become the star of its very own Japanese monster movie as it smashes up the town".

Enough of all that, now you just sit back in that rocker and ruminate as I illuminate the facts of illusions as they stand. Just let me get my pipe a puffing smoothly, and drink some of this coffee before it burst it's ceramic prison and demolishes my little home town in a stampede of highly caffeinated mayhem.

A truly well crafted illusion is a mighty thing indeed. With just the right amount of care, commitment and wit, an illusion can withstand the most forceful shaking meant solely to destroy a carelessly created illusion. A well crafted illusion is nothing more or less than the ways things "are" as presented by a creative mind to not so creative minds.  Nothing short of the misplaced, sharp tipped needle of reality can pop the world as created by an illusion, and make the ways things "are" into a way things "should have been". It's a sad day when an illusion ceases to be and fades into the realm of folklore and legend.

Take for instance what happened in my former life. Way back in the murky past. ( It's one of those time in your way back life that's best labeled as "things better not talked about, unless I'm drinking with good friends and then all stories seem funny and no one will remember what I say in the morning" in your mental filing cabinet. ) Back during my experimental marriage days. ( Oh come on! You don't know what an "experimental marriage" is?! It's a first marriage when you learned all what not to do and say in a marriage. ) Back when I was residing in my first house with my experimental wife and experimental child. ( Come now, we'll get nowhere in this story if you can't keep up and I have to keep explaining the most simple things. Now pay attention, I'm only going to explain this once; an "experimental wife" is the wife you learn what not to say and do and expect to keep a wife, and an "experimental child" is your first child and that's the one you learn what not to do to all future children you may have. What? Was it an "experimental house" too? Well of course not, that would just be ridiculous and tomfoolery to say that it was an "experimental house". No, that was " the kind of house you only buy once". )

The illusion started the day we moved into that house. There we all were,  my experimental wife who was heavily pregnant with  my experimental child Zack, my parents, Deaf Bob and Deaf Bob's Wife, and a whole gaggle of Deafie friends, helping to moving all the paraphernalia of everyday life into our new home. All was good, it was a warm sunny February day as we pulled up the pick-up trucks and vans. The mood was light and hands were a flying as we all signed away.

The street was a happy place with friendly neighbors who all started to come out with smiles. We all kept signing away and laughing. The new neighbors all stopped and their smiles faded and brows were raised. We all still signed on, all be it slower as we looked around. All the new neighbors were gone and in their places we could see closed doors with eyes peeping at us from behind closed blinds. We all stopped signing, looked at each other in a moment of awkward silence...then busted out with the greatest Deafie laughter and proceeded to unload the vehicles

Months went by and all we got was polite smiles and waves from the neighbors. When one or two of the braver and more evangelical neighbors did try to do more than smile and wave, it became clear by the wild exaggerations of their mouth movements, not to mention the yelling, that they all thought we both were Deaf. Having learned well from a life time of CODAhood just how to address such a situation, I smiled and waved back. Never once did I let on for one iota that I could hear all they said as they talked about the poor deaf couple next door.

NERDAs can say and do some of the most amazing things when they think you can't hear. I swear it's true, I kid you not friend, I am continually dumbfounded by otherwise intelligent people who some how think can in there wildest dreams that contorting their mouth, lips and face like a lump of Silly Putty,  and yelling loudly while they drag out every syllable repeatedly, will some how enable a Deaf person to understand them. It is truly a mystery to me. Why don't they try locking themselves in a good glass box and see if they can understand what someone from Outer Mongolia is saying to them.  Good luck to them is all I have to say.

I have to tell you about the day the experimental wife looked out the window to see me trimming the hedges.  Well, I wasn't really trimming the hedges. I started out to trim the hedges, but was stopped dead in mid clip due to the show taking place in front of me. I tell you, I was spellbound watching the wild gesticulation of the most fervently evangelical neighbor as she tried to save my soul with her erratic, not to mention overly dramatic, mimed display of my eternally damned soul. When it was clear to here by my unresponsive nature to her hard worked mime show, she though and accompanied the mime show with banshee like  shouting of all she just mimed. It was like a running narrative that was on a delayed time. ( I know full well that comes are to be silent but clearly she didn't know that fact. ) Between the energetic mime show and lung bursting yelling, she worked herself into an over heated, read faced, mouth foaming, aerobic soul saving hot mess.

At what point do you think I let on I could hear? That's right, I never did and here's why. First, it was taking all mental concentration not to bust out laughing at the scene. Secondly, every card carrying CODA enjoys a good laugh at times like this. Thirdly, she never thought to ask if I could even hear, so why interrupt all her hard work. If nothing else, my Deaf Mon did raise me to be polite.

After what seemed like a life time, the show in my front yard was still going on strong with no end in sight. I'll give the crazed neighbor this, she was nothing if she wasn't persistent.   Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see the experimental wife looking at me with the look of awe and horror. She signed to me, not too happily mind you, through the window, " What the hell is going on?"

"I'm trimming the hedges. They are all over grown."

"Duh! Who is that and what's wrong with her?"

"Oh,  she is one of our kind neighbors. She is trying to save my poor damned soul. Very loudly too".

Even less amused the experimental wife said, " I know it's loud, you don't need to tell me that".

Puzzled I asked, " She's really that loud, you can hear her?"

With a look of total bewilderment at my idiotic question, the experimental wife said, " No I can't hear it, but I can feel the window glass vibrating from her yelling".

It was truly on of those moments you just have to step back in awe and wonder. This neighbor was so loud the windows are shaking. I hadn't thought about that. She really did want to save my poor damned soul.

My thoughtful awe of the sheer power behind the evangelical neighbor ladies effects was interrupted when the experimental wife asked, " Should I call 911 or something? She looks dangerous. Maybe she needs some medical help?"

"Do you realize what you're saying!? You're safe in the house. I'm out here with this loony lady. Any sudden and threatening moves you take could only have one outcome. That's to make you a widow and then won't you be upset. My life insurance isn't paid up and to make it worse, you'll have to come out of the house some da, with no one to protect you from her deadly soul saving!"

"I would be left alone with her...I won't call. "

All the while the experimental wife and I were having our animated chat though the window, we failed to notice that the evangelical neighbor lady had stopped all her exertions and was slowly starting to back away with out turning her back to me. I didn't know for sure if it was our signing that scared her, or the sharp pair of hedge trimmers I was holding as I signed that finally made her leave, and I didn't really care. It all just added to my amazement. Thinking about it still fills me with chuckles  I can't stop.

A few years later, when my experimental child Zack was older and riding his bike up and down the street on an early Saturday morning as I was mowing the lawn with my extremely loud mower, one of the neighbors stopped Zack to ask him a question.

"Can you please tell your father that 7:00 am on a Saturday morning is not a good time to mow. The he neighborhood doesn't  appreciated all the noise so early. We are all aware of your father's...ummm...limitations, and we feel bad about it and all...his limitations that is.  In fact, the neighbors are taking up a collection to buy him a new, quiet mower."

Zack gave the neighbor one of those looks that only a six year old can give when they are perplexed and  said, "why don't you just tell him all that yourself? You know, adult to adult".

Now it was the neighbor's turn to try his hand at the  perplexed six year old look as he replied, " I'd be more than happy to talk to your father myself, but I don't know how to do that."

" You seem to know how to speak just fine. That's all you need to do. "

" No, I know how to speak. I don't know how to sign so your father will understand me. You understand, with his limitations and all. "

Zack just shook his head and slowly said, " It's OK you can't sign, no shame in that. But you don't need to sign with my Dad, he can hear you just fine. He just acts like he is deaf. " 

The neighbor just looked at Zack as what he just heard slowly sunk in. Then he asked one last question, " Why would he act like he is deaf?"

Very matter of factly, as he turned his bike to leave, Zack said over his shoulder, " It's what he does when people assume he is deaf, but never bothered to take the time and ask if he is deaf.  My Dad always says when you assume, you make an..."

"That's just fine, I know what I am when I assume. No need to tell me", was all the neighbor man said as Zack ride off.

So you can see, illusions are powerful and wondrous things. What illusion? The illusion I so carefully crafted with the old neighbors that I was Deaf. Yes, that was wondrous and powerful an illusion. So powerful and wondrous it saved me from having to have my soul saved on many occasions. That illusion was worth its weight in gold to me if only for that reason.

Makes me sad to think, all my hard work I put into crafting that illusion. Creatively creating a "reality" from all the assumptions those old neighbors made back then. Then to is my beautiful creativity so unceremoniously done in by the sharp point of Zack's innocent answer of  truth, well it's was just so sad.

That's why I say uncontrolled truth, unleashed by an innocent mouth, without mature judgement to temper it's deadly affect, is a far to awful weapon to use. Best it be economized at all times.