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2012-01-02T14:39:00.001-06:00

The Latest in the Battle Over Theater Captioning

2010-12-02T14:37:00.007-06:00

Well, it's about time.

As I've written about on this blog before, I'm among the thousands of Deaf and hard of hearing moviegoers fed up with not being able to understand movie dialogue. Now a group is sueing Cinemark theatres for lack of captioned movies. This is a theater chain that hasn't yet embraced captioning technology like other theaters have. For a listing of theaters currently showing captioned films, visit Captionfish.com.

I thought it would be interesting to compare Cinemark with two other theater chains: AMC Theatres and Regal Cinemas. Unlike Cinemark, the latter two show captioned movies at some of their locations.

Cinemark - The Lawsuit

A lawsuit brought on by the Association of Late-Deafened Adults (ALDA) and two individual plaintiffs claims Cinemark discriminates against hard of hearing and Deaf communities by failing to provide any captioned films in its Alameda County, California, theaters. The suit sees this oversight as a direct violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and California's anti-discrimination statutes, the Unruh Civil Rights Act and Disabled Persons Act.

ConsumerAffairs.com reports that about 85 percent of first-run movies are captioned and compatible with the rear window captioning system when they arrive in theaters. Each individual movie theater has the option of whether or not to install the $10,000 captioning equipment.

Apparently, Cinemark opted to save money at the expense of being accessible to the Deaf and hard of hearing.

AMC Theatres

AMC has nearly 160 theaters equipped with rear window captioning (RWC) units. RWC involves a reflective cupholder device that reflects captions emitted from a LED screen at the back of the theater. Some locations show open captioned (OC) movies, in which each movie has captions printed directly onto the film.

The theater chain provides an online search by zip code service of locations playing movies that are open captioned, closed captioned (rear window captioned) or with descriptive video.

Although AMC has been showing few captioned movies recently in its headquarters of Kansas City, the local Hearing Loss Association of America (HLAA) Chapter is in talks to expedite the return of captioned movie showings. A Kansas City HLAA rep is in twice-weekly contact with AMC to encourage the theater chain to expedite showing captioned digital format movies. AMC's Olathe, Kansas, theater is expected to be the first AMC location in the U.S. to show digital format films with rear window and open captions.

Regal Entertainment Group
Here is the latest on the theater chain's captioning efforts as stated on its Web site:

"Regal Entertainment Group, the National Association of Theatre Owners ("NATO") and the Inter-Society Digital Cinema Forum (ISDCF), film studios, manufacturers and technology designers have agreed and implemented a goal to have all digital standards associated with closed captioning and descriptive audio available for digital servers and projectors in the near future.

"The primary intent behind these efforts is to have 100% of all digital cinema systems being manufactured for theatres contain closed captioning and audio described technology that is accessible to theatre patrons in the near future.

"We also are working directly with manufacturers of closed caption systems that will be able to plug into compliant digital cinema servers.

"While there remains much work to be done, and while we are dependent on third party manufacturers, we are optimistic that acceptable personal captioning system will become available in the near future."

What the Cinemark Lawsuit Means

While the Cinemark lawsuit has captured media attention and has fired up those of us with hearing loss, what difference will it make in the long term? If Cinemark, the third largest U.S. theater chain, can be sued over captions, how quickly will other theater companies heed the warning and make their films accessible to everyone?

I'd like to imagine theaters packed with people with varying levels of hearing, deafness, vision loss and other (dis)abilities. I'd like for 2011 to be the Year of Theater for Everyone.

Join me on Facebook, Twitter, and my new blog LipreadingMom.com as I monitor movie theater captioning.

Advocating with Kids

2010-11-22T15:26:00.002-06:00

Originally posted at LipreadingMom.com

Advocacy is always a work in progress… for everyone. That’s why I decided to include my 9-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter in a Deaf and hearing loss awareness 5K walk/run this past weekend.

We walked with leaders from our local Hearing Loss Association of America (HLAA) Chapter. I use the work ”walk” loosely. My son decided to speed walk the entire time while my daughter followed several steps behind her Lipreading Mom. While walking and signing with fellow walkers, many of whom are Deaf and use American Sign Language (ASL), I used my “third eye” to keep track of my precious children.

After the walk, a Deaf and hearing loss resource fair was set up on the park grounds. I was supposed to assist with the HLAA table, but spent most of the time chasing after my curious kids. I first chased them into a tent set up with an ASL storyteller, who signed the words to popular children’s books. My daughter has always been fascinated with sign language, since she was a baby. At age 8 months, she and I attended a baby-mommy sign language class, and since then she’s taken to the language like a kid in a candy store. So the ASL storytelling held her attention. As for my son … Let’s just say I had to keep chasing after him.

Our next stop was an ASL arts and crafts booth, put on by the local school for the Deaf. My kids transformed two foam handprints into clever magnets depicting the sign for “I love you.” I’ll add these magnets to our eclectic collection of refrigerator magnets holding all their artwork at home.

At the next booth, we learned about a local church starting a ministry program for Deaf and hard of hearing people. Beginning next month, the church’s Sunday night services will be CART captioned (Computer Assisted Realtime Translation) and sign language interpreted. What a Godsend. This would allow Lipreading Mom to attend church with the family and finally understand every word spoken, sung and preached. Hallelujah!

Our favorite stop was the food booth, where we gulped down Sunny D and munched on fruit, donuts and crackers. Entertainment was provided by a very loud guitarist and drummer with a local Christian band. Thank goodness for the ear plugs given away by an audiologist at another booth. Lipreading Mom does everything she can not to expose her little ones to noise that could harm their hearing and turn them into Lipreading Kids.

After 20 minutes of songs and snacks, we ventured to another booth giving away free books and stuffed animals to promote hearing aids. The book “Oliver Gets Hearing Aids” tells about a little hard of hearing elephant getting his first set of behind-the-ear listening devices. Lets just say that Oliver’s hearing aids were bigger than Lipreading Mom’s head. The animated book came with an Oliver the Elephant puppet that storytellers can wear and wiggle their fingers in. Guess who got to wear the puppet and read the book in a silly Oliver voice at storytime that night?

I’m thankful for opportunities, like this walkathon, to share in hearing loss advocacy with my children. Although they always see me wearing hearing aids and sometimes signing to friends, it’s eye-opening for them to see lots of other people in the same boat as Lipreading Mom.

What else can I do to teach them about advocacy?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Follow me on my new blog, LipreadingMom.com!

Hard of Hearing at the Holidays

2010-11-18T12:10:00.002-06:00

What are your tips for surviving the holidays with a hearing loss?

Examples:

* Coping with loud family gatherings

* Handling stress

* How to give your ears a "break" during the holidays

* Communicating your special needs to family members

This is for an article to be published here, at LipreadingMom.com and possibly elsewhere. Post them here by December 1 or e-mail me!

The Role of Hearing Helpers

2010-11-17T13:54:00.002-06:00

Meet Emilie, Cody and Jill... my special helpers at church. Without them, I wouldn't be able to teach my six-year-old daughter's Sunday school class at church.

Because my sensorineural hearing loss makes it difficult for me to understand a child's delicate voices, someone must come alongside me to repeat or explain what the child has spoken. I call this person a hearing helper. Some of the ways in which this person helps:

* Pulls me aside to slowly repeat a child's comment or question

* Writes down information spoken by the child, such as their name if a new student

* Assists with behind-the-scene tasks, like gathering supplies, so I can focus on each child

* Reminds children to use quiet voices and hands to prevent unnecessary background noise

* Encourages children to face me when speaking so I can lipread them

* Gives one-on-one attention to special needs children who are mainstreamed in the class

Two Sundays a month, I volunteer with Emilie, Cody, Jill, and a rotating base of other hearing helpers. Usually there are three or four assistants with me in each class. While their primary function is to assist with Sunday school class preparation and hands-on instruction, they are so much more to me. Hearing helpers are my ears, hands, lips, and feet. They allow me to be involved in my daughter's classroom and get to know her friends. Without them, I would struggle to understand everything my students say.

As I shared with one of the parents when she picked up her son last Sunday, it takes a team effort to lead a class.

"You're a great teacher," the mom said.

I shook my head. "Without helpers in this class, I wouldn't have a clue what any of the children are saying."

The mom knew a little about my hearing loss but not the whole story. "Really? How is your hearing these days?"

I raised my hand then swooped it down. "Like this. Going down like a ski slope."

After a short pause, I added, "Without these helpers, I wouldn't be a good teacher."

I made sure to point out Emilie, Cody and Jill.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Follow me on my new blog, LipreadingMom.com.

Follow Me on LipreadingMom.com

2010-11-10T22:28:00.005-06:00

I have a new blog!

Go to LipreadingMom.com to learn more about my life as a hard of hearing mom.

Here is the latest post...

LIPREADING MOM'S TOP 15 CONFESSIONS

Time to ’fess up. My ears aren’t as sensitive as they used to be.

I confess that I pretend to hear everything my kids say even when they’re calling each other “stupid” and I don’t know it.

I confess I laugh before a joke’s punch line, not because of a warped sense of humor, but because I didn’t catch the joke’s first sentence.

I confess I wear my hair long to keep my hearing aids from sticking out like Dumbo ears.

I confess that I am unable to hear my telephone ring without my hearing aids in.

I confess that I don’t understand most dialogue on TV without the closed captioned turned on.

I confess that I get irked when the closed captioning isn’t working is turned off.

I confess that most people I haven’t seen in years are shocked when I tell them I have to read lips to “hear” them.

I confess that my older two kids usually act as my ears in the following situations: when a person asks me a question and I don’t respond; when someone knocks softly at my door and I don’t answer it; when the phone rings and I’m not wearing my hearing aids; when my youngest child wakes from his nap upstairs and is crying at the top of his lungs; when anything in the house beeps.

I confess that I have learned to accept my limitations. I will never be successful in making a phone call without some sort of special accommodations (i.e., using a loud-volume phone or speaker phone; asking the person on the other line to repeat themselves 2-5 times).

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom is not my choice. In fact, it can make me downright cranky.

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom makes me smile sometimes, especially when my kids are squealing, whining, moaning, or acting like brats.

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom has changed me. I’m not as quick to judge others who are different than me.

I confess I’m not as impatient as I used to be. I don’t get as frustrated with having to repeat things to a store cashier, to wait in a long line, or drive in rush-hour traffic.

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom has changed me. And I like how I’ve changed.

Ears to Understand Church

2010-11-04T15:25:00.001-05:00

"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry. "When I'm 18." "When I buy a new 450SL Mercedes Benz!" "When I put the last kid through college." "When I get a promotion." "When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!"

Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream."

-The Station, by Robert J. Hastings

Yesterday, I met with an amazing woman named Lisa Purkey. She is a mom of two little boys and the wife of Jon. Both have just launched Nexus Church in Kansas City. Lisa knows me from Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) when I spoke to her MOPS group about my hearing loss experiences. She came to me on a quest for information. After hearing me speak before, Lisa never forgot that there are thousands of people in our city who can't hear well. Her mission now is to find out as much about the needs of people who are hard of hearing or Deaf and somehow engage us through Nexus.

Lisa posted this on the Nexus Facebook page:

"I'm so excited that Nexus Church is going to be taking an active role in reaching out to our deaf and hard of hearing community in Johnson County!!! We have some amazing things in store for reaching these people creatively, and not just setting them in a corner for deaf people! We want them to be a part of every aspect... of our church!!! Details to come!!!!!! Can't wait!!!!!!!!!!"

Something interesting about Lisa is that although she can hear fine, she can't see well. In high school, she was diagnosed with vision loss and began wearing contact lenses. All those years prior to getting help, her world was fuzzy. Words on the chalkboard at school were a strain to see, and she squinted to read words on a TV screen. After getting help, Lisa remembers seeing the detail on blades of grass, how the texture and color popped in the sunlight. Her vision was clear... with help.

I've written articles and spoken before what a struggle it is to hear in group settings. Church is among one of those hearing-challenged settings. Without real-time captions at each service, I miss key words in a sermon. I lose the connection with other able-hearing people during the worship and sharing times because I can't lipread all the moving lips speaking into microphones.

The meeting with Lisa opened my eyes to a mission: I want my ears to *hear* everything at church. If Lisa could see so clearly with help after such a long time of struggling, what is stopping me from being able to attend church where I can hear and understand all that is being said?

Examples Lisa and I discussed about ways Nexus Church could help those with hearing issues:

* Immerse yourself in the Deaf and hearing loss cultures. Visit the U.S.'s only Deaf Cultural Center, based in Kansas City. Get to know the staff and volunteers, many of whom are Deaf. Attend a meeting of the Hearing Loss Association of America. Visit the Kansas School for the Deaf and meet teachers and students. Ask them what their needs are with regards to church.

* Provide interpreters for the Deaf and CART (real-time captions) of all spoken words during the service. Words would be projected onto a screen behind the stage. CART is especially useful to people who do not know sign language and can't hear well. It also can help the entire audience understand everything spoken from the stage.

* Visit audiologists, and get to know their lingo. What is the difference between a behind-the-ear hearing aid and an in-the-canal aid? What is an audiogram? What do the words "hearing assistive technology" mean?

I am encouraged from this meeting with my friend, Lisa. It has opened my eyes to someone pursuing a mission and not waiting for the right time, place or feeling. Just getting on that train and taking it wherever it leads... down a hilly path, or a smooth one, or one with all the lows and highs that come from doing the right thing.

What If You Were the Only Person Who Could Hear in a Deaf World?

2010-11-01T15:02:00.001-05:00

Take a moment to watch this video, and tell me if you don't walk away more informed about the communication challenges I face in a hearing world.

I'm Afraid to Talk to You Because You're Deaf?

2010-10-28T21:54:00.003-05:00

It's sad but true. I've observed friends, family and strangers with perfect hearing reluctant to talk to someone who is Deaf. I've seen this happen in restaurants, libraries, the post office and -- yes, oh yes -- church. (For more on that, blogger Michele Bornert of Deaf Expresssions, experienced this prejudice in her congregation and wrote an empassioned post you should check it.)

Something I've committed to doing is to initiate a sign language conversation with people I don't know. These are people I observe signing and/or wearing hearing aids. Granted, I have preschool-level signing skills, but can get by with signing my introduction...

ME: "Hi, are you Deaf?

STRANGER: (nods head)

ME: (grinning, ear to ear) I'm hard of hearing... My name is (fingerspelled) S-H-A-N-N-A...

(awkward pause as I try to remember my signs)

STRANGER: (signs something to me)

ME: (eyes squinted at first, then pretending to understand) Yes. Okay…

(I pause. Stranger signs. I squint, then pretend to understand again.)

ME: (quickly) Okay. Nice to meet you.

Last week at a drugstore, I tested my *ASL skills* with a woman signing to a girl I observed to be her student. The teacher and young person were friendly and seemed forgiving of my signing mistakes, awkward pauses, and bluffing.

I ran into this teacher and her family again at a gift shop the very next day. They were signing to a teenage girl, who I learned was her daughter. I repeated my "Hi, are you..." ASL introduction to the girl who was Deaf. She seemed pleased (or pretended to be) that I had attempted to strike up my hands-on conversation.

Today at the post office, I yet again initiated a signing dialogue. The woman spoke very clearly and I could lipread her well, so I used more of my voice than sign. From the exchange, I learned she teaches at the same school as the teacher I’d previously met. Small world for this Lip Reader.

I am thankful for these two teachers being patient with my rudimentary signing skills. We engaged in brief, but friendly conversation... with a few silent pauses from me.

* ASL = American Sign Language (the language with which I need to become much more skilled)

Would Life Be Better if I Could Hear Better?

2010-10-28T15:22:00.002-05:00

So... Would life be better if I could hear better?

Would I notice the subtle differences in people's voices, or the tones used in their speech?

Or be able to hear the door bell ring or the microwave beep, or the wall clock tick?

Or distinguish instantly who is calling me by listening to voice, not merely glancing at caller I.D.?

Would all the sounds I am no longer able to hear suddenly become recognizable?

The sound of my two-year-old son giggling in his room when I am downstairs.

The guitar music my husband strums behind closed bedroom doors while I'm standing in the laundry room with a dryer rumbling.

Would I hear the soft voice that doesn't come from anywhere but the heart?

God's whispering throughout the day of promises...

That He would never leave me, that He has a plan for me beyond what I can hear.

Would I listen to God, or pay attention to all the other noises coming through my ears?

Let the shouts from family, television, and radio take priority over holy whispers?

Maybe, just maybe God allowed my progressive hearing loss so I could hear those whispers better.

"The Lord says, 'I will lead (them) by a road they do not know, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground ... I will not forsake them." (Isaiah 42:16)

I don't hear well, but I know this...

Life is better BECAUSE I don't hear well.

Hearing Aids in the Great Outdoors

2010-10-22T15:59:00.004-05:00

Oh, the joys of owning non-water-resistant hearing aids.

This afternoon, I took the kids to a pumpkin patch for our annual trek through nature. A partly cloudy sky and temps in the low 70s seemed like ideal weather for our country excursion. With a stroller for my littlest tyke and a lunch box in tow, we were all set. My kids frolicked through rows of corn and danced on hay bales. All was bliss.

UNTIL...

A drop of water fell on my head. Then more drops. Suddenly, the partly cloudy sky tranformed into a scene from "Twister" (without the tornado). Rain fell so hard, I couldn't see straight ahead. Where were my kids? The stroller? Then I swatted at my ears.

MY HEARING AIDS WERE GETTING WET.

Everyone should remember this important fact about hearing aids: they are not water resistant. A plunge in the pool or a rinse in the shower or rain falling from the sky can make $5,000 hearing aids die.

Without an umbrella or hooded jacket to protect my listening investment, I panicked. First, I rounded up my littest tyke who was feeding corn kernels to a pen of goats and oblivious to pouring rain. My older two kids sprinted for our mini-van.

Chasing after them while pushing littest tyke in his stroller, I whisked off my hearing aids from behind my ears. I cupped them in my hand and made the most waterproof fist possible.

While nudging the stroller forward with my legs, I used the other hand to reach in the lunchbox. I pulled out the only waterproof item inside: a Ziploc baggy filled with pretzels. I dumped out the bag's salty contents. Bye-bye, pretzels. Then I dropped the hearing aids inside and sealed the bag. The lunchbox sat in the bottom of the stroller and appeared to be the driest spot within a quarter-mile of pumpkin patch mudlands.

"Clunk," went the hearing aid-filled baggy as I tossed it into the dry lunchbox.

Then I ran as fast as I could in muddy flip-flops and pushing a stroller, that lunchbox with my expensive listening device treasures inside going "bumpety-bump" all the way to the car. Oh, the joy.

While my kids didn't get their pumpkins, their mommy's expensive, non-water-resistant hearing aids were kept safe in the great outdoors.

Not Deaf, But Close to It

2010-10-18T15:27:00.003-05:00

Every year, I head to the audiologist for a hearing test. Ninety-five percent of the time, the result is the same: more hearing decibels lost. Ten years ago when I was diagnosed with progressive hearing loss, each ear tested at 20 percent hearing loss. The left ear remained stable all these years. The right ear, however, is now at 60 percent loss. This ear hears some sound but can’t distinguish where the sounds come from or interpret the meaning of spoken words. .

I’m not deaf, but close to it.

A few weeks ago, a double-ear infection wrecked havoc on my hearing ability. Sickness destroyed a decibel or two of what I can now hear in the right ear. Voices seem more mumbled, phone conversations more muffled. It’s as if someone turned the volume down a notch inside my “bad” ear.

My kids must repeat themselves more, their questions often met with my blank stares. My youngest child, who at age two is learning new vocabulary every day, screams his words to me. Late-night conversations are especially difficult with my husband since bedtime is when I go hearing aid-free.

Not deaf, but close to it.

Does the strained hearing ability frustrate me and my family? Absolutely. What mom doesn’t want to hear her little boy’s first words crystal clear, or have a heartfelt chat with her husband without the constant refrain of “Huh? Could you repeat that?”

I suppose it’s easier to add up all the stress-induced moments caused by hearing loss since there are so many. I could also count all the sound decibels lost over the past ten years. Or the conversations hindered by hearing loss. Or the increasingly difficult listening situations. I could count all the times I’ve wished and prayed for better ears.

Would life be easier without hearing loss? Without a doubt. Would my life be better? Hmm…

I guess I should count the many people I’ve met who, like myself, struggle with hearing. Neighbors. Parents. Teachers. Artists. Scientists, Teenagers. Children. Babies. Friends. Every week, most notably through my affiliation with the Hearing Loss Association of America, I connect with someone living with their own lost decibels.

Would I have taken the time to get to know all these people if I could hear perfectly? Or would I have tuned them out, passing them by without any empathy or concern for their unique experiences?

I’m not deaf, but close to it. Life has handed me more hearing loss. Now I must decide whether to count my blessings… or focus on the lost decibels.

The precious people I’ve connected with who have hearing loss are to be counted as my major gains.

Promote Movie Theater Captioning

2010-10-01T14:14:00.006-05:00

"Where have all the captions gone?"

That was the cry of those of us in the hearing loss and Deaf community of Kansas City the past three months. For years, the largest theater chain in town, AMC Entertainment, led the way in providing captioned films here week after week. That is, until the dawn of digial movie formats this year. When theaters discarded the 100-year-old tradition of showing 35-millimeter films to all digital format, captioning those films was an after-thought.

Finally, FINALLY... After a summer-long absence, captioned movies are BACK in my hometown. "Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of G'Hoole" (PG) is showing in rearview-captioned and descriptive video formats this week at an AMC theater down the road.

As co-founder of the Hearing Loss Association of America (HLAA) Chapter in Kansas City, I've recently rallied with other members, most notably Terri Shirley, in advocating for these movie captions. Captions allow those of us who are hearing challenged to understand movie dialogue in a way that headphones and asking the person next to us to repeat something can't. In a perfect world, all movies would come in open-captioned format, with the subtitles printed on the film, instead of rearview-captioned, requiring a reflective device that fits inside your theater seat's cupholder.

Our HLAA Chapter's first effort was a recent meeting with Dan Glennon, manager at the AMC Studio 30 theater in Olathe, Kansas, a Kansas City suburb that has since brought back captioned films. Studio 30 is the first AMC location to provide captioned movies in Kansas City that supports the all-digital format. Glennon said he is on board with providing these captioned film choices. However, the summer-long delay in providing captioning service was out of his hands. Thank movie studios producing and delivering the films, outside vendors providing necessary technology for rearview captioned digital films, and corporate red tape for that.

During the meeting, Glennon was presented with hearing loss and Deaf community statistics, compiled by an amazing advocate for the local Deaf and hearing loss community, Sandra Kelly, executive director of the Deaf Cultural Center in Kansas City. Among Kelly's findings:

* Though no one maintains the statistics on hearing loss of adults in the area, because the Kansas School for the Deaf is located in Olathe (and has been since 1866), there is a significantly larger population of individuals with hearing loss that live in the area.

* It has been estimated that there may be several thousand Deaf individuals in the Greater Kansas City area. This does not include individuals who are considered hard of hearing.

* There is an estimated 34-37 millions individuals in the U.S. with hearing loss significant enough that it affects their daily lives.

* Of these individuals, two-thirds of them are under the age of 65.

* Hearing loss within a family affects everyone, not just the person with the loss. Family members without the hearing loss are very aware of businesses and organizations that are supportive of this challenge. It is not only the person unable to hear that is considered the consumer. It includes his family, co-workers and others aware of the support from businesses.

* Visitors to the Deaf Cultural Center have come from every state in the Union, as well as, many countries from around the world. The numbers have more than tripled from three years ago. It would be difficult to estimate how many of these people have hearing loss, but Kelly estimates at least 50 percent. Again, it is the family and friends of Deaf and hard-of-hearing individuals who often accompany these folks.

* Ninety percent of Deaf children are born into hearing families. Parents of these children are looking for equal access to entertainment.

* Last year Olathe was identified in an online survey with Deaf411.com as one of the most Deaf Friendly communities in the Midwest. This is a "draw" to people around the country.

~*~*~*~*~*

I need all of my blog readers, whether you are hard of hearing, Deaf, or hearing, to contact your local movie theaters and encourage them to show captioned movies. Cite the statistics above, or visit any of these sites for advocacy information:

CCAC for Captioning Advocacy Now

Hearing Loss Association of America, Kansas City Chapter

Hearing Loss Association of America - National Web site

I'm Having a Bad 'Hear' Day

2010-09-21T15:05:00.003-05:00

The alarm clock blared at seven o’clock this morning, but I didn’t hear it. My pillow muffled the sound. Turns out, I had rolled on the side with my “good” ear. The one that hears better than the other. The one that hears the alarm clock. The one that lay pressed into the pillow.

I slept through the alarm at 7:00, 7:15, and 7:30. When I woke up, it wasn’t to the shrill beeping clock or the radio dial cranked to full volume, but to the whine of my sweet little girl.

“Mommy,” she cried, “you overslept again.”

I wanted to blame it on the pillow, which had kept my good ear from hearing a blaring alarm clock. But I didn’t. Instead, I decided that I was just having a Bad Hear Day.

I breathed cool air into my steaming cup of coffee while fiddling with one of my hearing aids in the other hand. I put the listening device in my ear and switched it on. Nothing. Dead silence.

Out came the expensive contraption that looked like a sea shell with wires in it. The wires that were supposed to help me hear better. Could it have been a dead battery? Or worse, a hearing aid clogged with a blob of my ear wax? The most disgusting part of the morning was scooping wax out of this ear shell. After adding the fresh battery and scooping out ear boogers, I put the hearing aid back on. Nothing. Dead silence.

“What’s wrong with you?” I shouted at the expensive device. I threatened to throw it on the floor and stomp it into a mess of wires and ear shell plastic. But I didn’t. I just decided I was having a Bad Hear Day.

The coffee spilled between my pant legs as I drove the kiddos to school. My sweet girl chatted on and on about so-and-so in her class and this-and-that at school. I nodded and smiled, marveling at every word she spoke. (I didn’t have a clue what she said.)

The car A/C blasted, the wipers squeaked against the pitter-pattering of rain on the windshield, and my baby son screamed in harmony with a Hannah Montana song on the radio. Plus, my hearing aid still didn’t work.

Stupid hearing aid.

I wanted to announce at the top of my lungs how much I loathed that hearing aid, to yell so loud, it would be heard over A/Cs, windshields, kids, and whiny teeny bopper music. But I didn’t. I just decided I was having a Bad Hear Day.

Trying to make light of the situation, I interrupted my sweet girl to tell her a knock-knock joke.

“Knock knock,” I said.

“Who’s there?” she asked with a smile.

“”Huh?” I said.

“’Huh’ who?” she answered, sweetly.

I squinted at her through the rearview mirror. “Huh? What did you just say?”

And that’s when I really, truly decided …

A BAD Hear Day.

If I Could Understand Movies

2010-09-16T10:40:00.004-05:00

The trip to my local AMC movie theater was a spontaneous Father’s Day present. My two older kids wanted to honor Dad and catch a matinee showing of Toy Story 3. I tagged along since all the Pixar movies were such a hit with our family. My husband and children spent the next two-and-a-half hours laughing at Woody and Buzz’s banter. I faked a chuckle here and there. Because of my hearing loss and the fact that captioned movies are almost nonexistent these days at local theaters, I didn’t understand a word.

As co-founder of the Kansas City Chapter of the Hearing Loss of America (HLAA), I receive e-mails from people in their 20s, 30s and 40s facing hearing loss. Recent reports link increased hearing loss with teenagers. Aging Baby Boomers make up the largest demographic represented at my local hearing aid supplier’s office. How come a movie theater chain can’t accommodate their need for captioned movies so they can enjoy entertainment like everyone else?

Not long ago, some local AMC theaters showed rear-window captioned movies. It required the viewer to place a reflective-mirror device inside the seat’s cup holder, and captions from the theater’s back walls reflected onto the glass. While not ideal since the mirror device didn’t always work well, I could understand movie dialogue this way. A few years ago, I watched an open-captioned version of Mama Mia!, in which the words displayed directly on the film in front of me. This was my favorite movie-going experience thus far, and it was at an AMC theater.

When a member of the local HLAA chapter asked about the decline of captioned movies in their theaters, local AMC representative Dan Glennon responded, “Rear window captioning that functions with our new digital platform will be installed by the end of the month. Studio 30 will actually be the first theatre among our entire chain to have this upgrade completed. Once the device is installed and functioning as expected you will see the ‘CC’ indicators next to the film titles on the internet as well as in the newspaper.” This was written on July 27, and no captioned movies have returned to AMC. Our chapter will continue to monitor this cause and will feature updates on our Web site at http://hlaakc.blogspot.com.

Write, call, or e-mail our theaters and request the return of captions. If all of us do this, then the Deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing populations can enjoy movies together. And I will be able to understand the next animated flick I view with my children.

Advocacy Begins at the Walk-In Clinic

2010-09-08T13:20:00.005-05:00

After several days of a pounding headache, congested throat, stuffy nose and clogged ears, I was in tears. Having sick ears was like poison with my already compromised ability to hear. Hearing aids became useless; all they amplified was the dull rumbling of fluid in the ear drums. And the pounding head made it difficult to focus on lip reading.

So, instead of a highly anticipated date with my hubby, I headed to the least romantic spot in suburbia: a walk-in doctor’s clinic.

A no-nonsense physician sat with her back to me, facing a computer. Her lips moved and I’m sure she had asked something, but all I heard through my sick ears was, “Wah wah, wah wah.” She’d become the Charlie Brown cartoon character that spoke in annoying monotones.

My inclination was to bluff through her series of questions. Nod, say “Okay” a couple of times, nod again. Become panicked about what I had actually said “Okay” to.

The physician’s lips stopped moving, so this was my cue to begin the bluff.

I stopped. Everything from my neck up ached, and I needed help. That meant saying the four words I’d said to my husband countless times when he mumbled something to me.

“Would you face me?” I said to the physician. “Because I have hearing loss and need to see your lips.”

She swiveled around in her chair. Her questions resumed at a much slower pace. She nodded after each sentence, as if by doing so she hoped I understood.

After writing a prescription for what seemed like a decades’ worth of antibiotics, she faced me again.

“So you’re a writer?” she said.

I assumed she’d read it on my medical chart, although I’d never seen this physician before.

I nodded. “I write about hearing loss issues. And I advocate for the hearing loss community.”

More questions from her allowed me to answer the Who, What, Why, Where, and How of Shanna Groves’ hearing loss story. Who had I advocated for? What kind of advocacy work had I done? Why had I started it? Where could someone get more information about my advocacy work? How can others get involved with this kind of work?

The physician’s curiosity about the Big A made me wonder why it had taken me years to advocate for myself. How many medical professionals before her could’ve benefitted if I’d stopped bluffing and started speaking up for what I needed?

Before I left, the physician shared the name of someone she knew with hearing loss and asked if I could contact her. I took the person’s info and promised to be in touch.

I walked out of the clinic with a prescription in hand and a realization. Advocacy wasn’t just about me. It was about me, the physician, and everyone else.

Lipreading Mom Faces The Chair

2010-09-02T14:38:00.006-05:00

As I sat in the patient’s chair gripping the vinyl armrests, a mask-wearing dentist probed my mouth. Her findings nearly busted my jaw: Multiple chipped teeth, a recessed gum and six cavities. One cavity for each year I put off going for a check-up. I tensed even more as she injected anesthesia into my infected gum so that she could clean my teeth. All the while, my five-year-old child watched from the sidelines. I'd brought my cutie pie along to show that kids need not fear dentists.

Only a mom pretending not to have hearing loss should fear The Chair.

Lipreading dentists was impossible, so I delayed the tooth cleanings year after year. I wasn't about to tell them, "Lose the surgical masks!" I was doing a good enough job wearing my own mask of pretense.

I spent six years delaying check-ups until a more convenient time. When I could learn to lip read someone's covered lips. Or when a dental hygenist learned to stop making small talk with her patients. Or---TA DA!---when my hearing loss miraculously disappeared.

Each delayed check-up resulted in another cavity left undiscovered, another hole that ached and flared my anxiety. These holes caught up with me as I dragged myself to The Chair with my preschooler in tow.

"Have you noticed any problems?" the hygenist mumbled.

"Excuse me?" My nails dug into the armrests.

"I said," she repeated, "do you notice any..."

The hygenist's voice sounded heavily muffled behind her blue mask. I knew this was the moment.

I opened my mouth and blurted out, "Would you take that mask off?"

The words were simple, but it was painful to say them. I felt like sliding out of The Chair and fleeing for the exit. Me with my mouthful of cavities and pride intact.

But then I realized my preschooler was there. If I left now, so would my child. If I avoided dentists, so would my child. If I pretended to be fine (and not hard of hearing), so would my child.

I gripped the armrests tighter as the hygenist dropped her mask. Then I spent the next five minutes telling her the story of my hearing loss.

Lip Reader Fans Raise Nearly $3,000 to Help Young Cancer Survivor

2010-08-25T13:38:00.011-05:00

A MESSAGE FROM REBECCA THESMAN, EDITOR OF LIP READER

What an incredible blessing to see so many people support my son at the Carnival for Caleb! Many thanks to all of you who participated and gave of your time and provisions to add to Caleb's medical account. We felt the love of God surrounding us and represented by all of you. Thank you so much for all you have done. You have made a difference in our lives. In return, we pray God's blessings on you.

Rebecca Thesman
www.stayinginhope.blogspot.com
http://www.linkedin.com/in/rebeccajthesman

PHOTOS FROM CARNIVAL FOR CALEB BENEFIT - AUGUST 21, 2010

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PHOTOS FROM OKLAHOMA CITY LIP READER BOOK SIGNING
AUGUST 7, 2010
*$200 in book proceeds, all donated to the
Caleb Thesman Medical Fund*

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LEARN MORE ABOUT HOW YOU CAN HELP CALEB THESMAN
http://carnival4caleb.blogspot.com

My Editor Needs Help

2010-06-25T14:32:00.004-05:00

Rebecca Thesman

A writer's relationship with an editor is sacred. A professionally published book should be edited before it hits bookshelves and, without the editor, a writer's work is not finished. At least, that was my experience with Lip Reader.

Rebecca Thesman is more than an editor; she is my friend, mentor and prayer partner. She is also the mother of a son who has been battling cancer for the past three years.

Last Christmas, Rebecca was laid off from her full-time job and is now strictly freelance. Without insurance for herself and her son Caleb (she is a single mom; he is in cancer remission), this has been an uncertain time for her. I know Rebecca appreciates all of our prayers.

A group of us is organizing a fundraiser to help with the Thesman family and Caleb's medical fund. Carnival for Caleb will be held Saturday, August 21 in Olathe, Kansas, and I invite all of the readers of my blog to attend. There will be carnival activities for kids and shopping, book signings, and storytelling presentations for everyone. Whether or not you live in the Kansas City area, there are many ways you can help. Sponsors, volunteers, prize donations and, of course, everyone's prayers are needed.

Visit the Carnival for Caleb Web site to find out how you can help my editor and her son.

Rebecca and her son, Caleb

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An Update on the Lip Reader Sequel

Rebecca Thesman and I worked together on Lip Reader for several months, and she is now giving up a small part of her life to help me polish the in-progress sequel book, Take Care of the Birds.

When I e-mailed her the first chapter of the sequel book, I was nervous:

Me: "It might help to read the last chapter of Lip Reader again, since the new chapter picks up exactly where the storyline left off. What I am looking for in this edit is a way to flesh out the plot, dialogue and description. It reads too fast and sketchy. Also, could you please use the Track Edit Changes feature in Word? Thanks so much."

I received her comments and edit changes:

Rebecca: "I've used the track changes as you suggested. I purposely didn't go back and read Lip Reader, because a sequel needs to stand on its own as well as having back story for readers who didn't get the 1st book. You did a great job of back story at the bottom of page 6. Lots of action in this chapter and a great lead. One suggestion throughout: since you have so many characters whose dialect will be dropping the 'g,' you might do a Control Find for 'ing' at the end of each chapter. That way, you could automatically change those verbs and gerunds."

Rebecca and I belong to the same writing group and attend church together. I've attended book signings with her and listened to her fantastic workshops on prayer.

For those of you who have ever worked with an editor, it is like a dance. The writer writes, the editor edits. Back and forth. Two steps this way, two steps that way. Without my editor, I can't dance and my book stays on the computer, unpublished.

Thanks for the dance, Rebecca.

Be sure to visit my editor's Web site, Staying In Hope, designed to provide encouragement for people facing difficult times.

Embracing Life and Loss

2010-04-16T17:20:00.004-05:00

As many of you know, a sequel to Lip Reader is in the works. A blog for Take Care of the Birds has been set up with details on this in-progress book.

The past two months have brought challenges to Take Care of the Birds. Two of my family members and a close friend passed away and went to their heavenly home recently. After a month-long hiatus to grieve and think, I am back to writing the book.

Chapter 9 begins with a character questioning her life. Trapped in a dark place, she confronts the choices she made that got her there. Could she have been a better friend, a better daughter, a better person? "What does 'better' really mean?" she questions.

I have thought a lot about this character as I said goodbye to my three loved ones. One of them longed to be in heaven with his wife of 64 years and passed away suddenly almost a year to the day after he lost her. Another died tragically and unexpectedly in a motorcycle accident at the age of 19. And the other was a young wife and mother of three daughters, who refused to give into her fierce cancer until she took her last breath.

Without giving too much away for those who have read my first book, Lip Reader, one of Take Care of the Birds's character not only loses the ability to hear, but to see. She is isolated, afraid, confused. Where is she, and who will rescue her?

Is her rescue too late?

Shanna's Lipreading Life: Writing Lip Reader

2010-03-01T14:45:00.011-06:00

Q: What do you expect your book to accomplish? Is there an underlying message about living with hearing loss that you'd like readers to take away with them?

One of the myths I’ve found with hearing loss is that it’s only common among the elderly. Hearing loss affects all ages, and Lip Reader offers a multi-generational look at hearing loss and deafness. The grandmother is deaf, the grandpa is hard of hearing, and three young characters have inherited hearing loss.

Q: How much of yourself do you write into your characters?

I like to be able to relate in some way to the story’s narrator or main character. In Lip Reader, the narrator is a 12-year-old girl named Sapphie Traylor. She sees the world through innocent eyes and speaks simply. In order to write with Sapphie’s voice, I had to immerse myself into the world of a preteen girl. What were my thoughts and feelings as a 12 year old? How has my perspective changed since then? Doing these things lent credibility to the character.

Me...years ago

Q: How long did it take you to write it and are you planning on writing another one?

I began writing Lip Reader at the end of 2006. A couple of months into the writing, tragedy and blessings happened in my family. My younger sister passed away unexpectedly, then I learned I was going to have my third child. I put the book on hold for almost a year. In 2008, I began working on it again. For 20 minutes a day, five to six days a week, I wrote. Eleven months later, I finished the first draft. I felt God leading the process of brainstorming, writing, and editing throughout.

The sequel to Lip Reader is currently being written. For updates, go to my Take Care of the Birds blog.

Q: Did any events in your life inspire your ideas for the novel?

My dad’s family has genetic hearing loss that has affected my aunt, uncle and two cousins about my age. Since they were born with their hearing loss and I wasn’t, I am unclear if my hearing situation is genetic, such as theirs.

Me and Aunt Mickey

Q: How much of the novel is realistic?

The novel is inspired by my dad’s family, as well as my own hearing loss experiences. The main characters, such as the 12-year-old girl who narrates and the mom character, are purely fictitious.

Q: Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

I hope readers — whether they have hearing loss or not — will gain insight into what a family goes through in dealing with either genetic deafness or late-in-life hearing loss. I also hope they will see the beauty in accepting others’ differences and trying to understand them. Finally, I hope that the book gives the millions of people with hearing loss a sense of purpose and joy with their situation.

Q: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your novel?

I think Lip Reader is written the way it is supposed to; I wouldn’t change anything.

Q: Did you learn anything from writing your novel and what was it?

If a person is meant to do something and commits that plan to God, that plan will succeed. What I mean by “succeed” is that it will have a positive impact on both the person and the audience. Lip Reader is an example of how God saw me through an uncertain time in my life — with the death of my sister and the unexpected blessing of a third child.

Shanna's Lip Reading Life: My Culture

2010-02-15T15:26:00.012-06:00

Q: What would you call yourself—hard of hearing, hearing impaired, Deaf, deaf, a person with a hearing loss, etc? Why?

A: I consider myself hard of hearing. I am halfway between the hearing and deaf worlds. I was raised in a hearing family, and my hearing loss was diagnosed at the age of 27. Thus, I identify most with the hearing world.

Q: How did you lose your hearing?

A: The cause is unknown, although I have a family history of hearing loss on the paternal side of my family (an uncle, aunt, two cousins with profound hearing loss). My loss was diagnosed in 2001 after the birth of my first child. I had developed a persistent ringing (tinnitus) in both of my ears and went to the doctor for a hearing test. Progressive hearing loss was diagnosed.

Q: What has been the biggest challenge for you with your hearing loss?

A: Initially, I had a fear of the unknown future. Would my hearing loss make work and relationships difficult? Would I be able to understand my young children’s delicate voices? Currently, my greatest challenge is knowing when to shut up about hearing loss awareness! I am on a mission to inform, educate and inspire people about what life is like with a hearing loss.

Q: What bothers you about your hearing loss?

A: I have difficulty with speech comprehension in most phone conversations and in noisy face-to-face situations. In a perfect world, everyone would speak clearly, with strong articulation, and would come with a closed captioning device attached to their foreheads so I could understand them completely.

Q: Does a hard of hearing community exist? Who are the people within it?

A: I think it does with my tight circle of hard of hearing friends. The people I’ve met through the Hearing Loss Association of America (HLAA) have become my hearing loss community.

Q: What is the Deaf culture, and what is the hearing culture? Where are you, and why?

A: The Deaf culture is a community of people who consider American Sign Language (ASL) their first language. The hearing culture includes people who have normal hearing and have been raised in a predominantly hearing family. In some rare instances, hearing children are born to deaf parents. Would the children be part of the Deaf or hearing cultures? It would be up to the family to decide.

Q: In what ways have you dealt with the positive and negative aspects of your hearing loss? Give specific examples.

A: I have written extensively about the highs and lows of my hearing journey. I have written Lip Reader, a novel about hearing loss. I blog about hearing loss. I speak to large and small groups about my hearing loss. Anyone who has the time, I will share, through the written word or orally, what being hard of hearing means to me personally.

Q: Can you name an instance of when you were ashamed of your hearing loss?

A: When I misunderstand a waiter, cashier or stranger and bluff my way through the conversation—only to be told by the person that I bluffed—that is embarrassing.

Q: How do you want to educate others?

A: I want to write, speak, perform my writings, and advocate through organizations, such as HLAA, about hearing loss awareness.

Q: What does advocacy mean to you?

A: It means asking people for what I need to function and thrive. It means asking someone to repeat a question because I couldn’t understand them due to my hearing loss. It means suggesting that a place of worship provide Communication Access Realtime Translation (CART) or other hearing assistive technology during its services. It means teaching my three children that they shouldn’t make fun of people for wearing hearing aids, being unable to hear well, or being “different.” It means modeling to my family, friends and those around me that hearing loss is best handled with acceptance and grace, not shame and fear.

Shanna's Lipreading Life

2010-01-11T14:31:00.014-06:00

1. When and how did you realize you were losing your hearing?

Shortly after the birth of my first child, I noticed a ringing sound in both of my ears. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment and was referred to an audiologist for a hearing test. It was determined I had progressive hearing loss, and the cause was unknown. I was 27 years old.

2. What was your reaction when you first discovered your hearing loss and how did you learn to accept it?

I was in a state of shock, then denial. I waited two years before wearing hearing aids, even though an audiologist said that my hearing loss was advanced enough that I needed hearing aids from the initial diagnosis. I remember the doctor telling me that if my hearing loss were vision loss, that I wouldn’t be allowed to drive a car without corrective vision care. In essence, the doctor was telling me I would struggle to hear and communicate well without hearing aids. I was scared about having to wear something that the whole world would see, something that showed I was different...

3. How does your hearing loss affect your relationship with your husband?

My husband has become accustomed to repeating things for me. When we are out in public, such as at a restaurant, a server may ask me a question. If I didn’t hear the question, my husband will assist me by repeating or answering the question himself. We have learned to carry on conversations in rooms where there is good lighting and little background noise, although sometimes he can forget by calling for me from another room!

4. What is it like being a mom with hearing loss?

Since my children are young, I have struggled to understand their high-pitched, delicate voices. They often have to repeat themselves. My two-year-old has a very loud yell and will use it if I don’t respond to him. My nine-year-old is much easier to understand because his voice is deeper. Sometimes the older two children ask why I didn’t answer their question, and I remind them that I have trouble hearing and it’s not my fault. Although sometimes I struggle with guilt because I can’t always understand what they are saying.

5. What is your biggest challenge with hearing loss?

Understanding my children’s voices. I can hear them, but I don’t always understand what they are saying. It makes me sad when they get frustrated with me. With time, I hope all of us will be more patient and compassionate with one another. My kids are getting an early lesson in patience with me.

6. Is there anything you do to help you cope with the daily frustrations of hearing loss?

I have struggled with depression. I have a degree in communication, and I thrive on being able to communicate with people both one-on-one and in group settings. In the past, when I couldn’t understand conversation, I either withdrew from the group or dominated the conversation so I wouldn’t have to listen as much! The depression came from not being able to control the hearing loss, and also the anxiety of not knowing how my hearing will be in the future. Since I continue to lose hearing each year, I have to step out in faith and believe that my life will still be okay, with or without my hearing.

7. How has hearing loss changed you as a person?

It has brought me to my knees, realizing that I need to lean on my greatest source of strength: God. Before the hearing loss diagnosis in 2001, I struggled with being judgmental of people who I perceived were different from me. In the past few years, I have been forced to reexamine my perspective. What I realize is that without people having their unique differences, this world would be a very boring place! I also have more compassion for people struggling with various life situations.

8. What would your advice be to others who suffer hearing loss?

Don’t be afraid to visit an audiologist and get your hearing tested. If the doctor recommends hearing aids, do your research on products and include your family in the buying process. The more you include your family with your hearing loss journey, I believe, the more they will understand what your changing life is like. Surround yourself with people who love you unconditionally. Take the time to understand and accept your hearing loss situation the best that you can. Find support from outside your family, such as with local or online hearing loss support groups. I belong to the Hearing Loss Association of America, which has a chapter in Kansas City. Visit Hearingloss.org to learn more about this organization.

The Trip to Little Paw - Part Three

2009-12-17T13:52:00.019-06:00

The Trip to Little Paw, Oklahoma - Part One

The Trip to Little Paw - Part Two

In John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, a woman is compared to a body of water---flowing straight or curvy but never stopping until meeting her end. The rivers, creeks and women of my Oklahoma upbringing have woven life into parched earth for decades.

Pearline (McMillan) Bartlett, my grandmother and the inspiration behind Lip Reader's Grandma Bebop, stood less than five feet tall as a grown woman. Her education ended at the eighth grade because the McMillan family farm needed any spare hand. Married at 16, Pearline birthed her first child, a daughter, five years later. Three sons and another daughter followed, the first two born ten months apart. The once physically delicate Pearline matured into a strong-armed, wide-proportioned provider of meals, quilts and homespun patience, known by all of us as Grandma Bartlett. She died in a nursing home eight years ago...

Juanita "Mickey" (Bartlett) Dobbs was Pearline's youngest child and my aunt. Her hearing loss developed at age 11 and continued to get progressively worse. Teenage and adult years benefitted from behind-the-ear hearing aids and self-taught lip-reading skills. She raised a daughter, Aretha, with normal hearing and a son, Lee, born with profound hearing loss. Aunt Mickey has been my strongest family link into the world of hearing loss...

Linda (Webb) Bartlett married Pearline's second son, Jimmy. Born and raised in Oklahoma City, Linda met Jimmy while on a date with his best friend. Linda married at 19 and had three daughters, who all grew up on an 80-acre farm outside of Shawnee, Oklahoma. Her middle daughter's hearing loss was diagnosed at the age of 27 and has progressed over the years. Linda is my mother...

Leasha (Bartlett) Strang is one of Pearline's granddaughters and the first grandchild to serve in the U.S. military. In 1991, Leasha made the difficult decision to leave her newborn in the care of Oklahoma family members while completing required service in the Middle East with Operation Desert Storm. She is a former police officer and a single mom who raised two children while obtaining bachelors and master's degrees in social work. The novel, Lip Reader, was dedicated to Leasha. She is my older sister...

Monica (Bartlett) Martin, also one of the granddaughters, enlisted in the U.S. Army less than six months after high school graduation in Prague, Oklahoma. Upon returning from service in Korea, she retired from active duty and became a mother of identical twin daughters and another daughter. The last years of Monica's life were troubled. A month before her 30th birthday, she passed in her sleep on February 9, 2007. She was my younger sister who loved her girls more than her own life...

Shanna (Bartlett) Groves is me. I began writing Lip Reader as a way to cope with my worsening hearing issues. But as the story developed, I realized it could not be about me or even real-life people. I didn't feel right making the book a factual account of the Bartlett family. I'd moved from Oklahoma in 1997. For the next ten years, I never traveled to Southwestern Oklahoma where most of the family lived. Not for Grandpa or Grandma's funerals.

In early 2001, I went to a doctor with a persistent ringing sound in my ears. I had just returned to work from a 10-week maternity leave after the birth of my oldest child. The diagnosis was progressive sensorineural hearing loss, and tinnitus explained the ringing sound. Explanation for the hearing loss was unknown, and I was told I needed hearing aids. I returned to work in shock and with fear. Was I going to become deaf?

Eight months later, Grandma Bartlett died suddenly of a stroke. The morning of Thanksgiving, 2001, my mother called me with the news. I had trouble hearing her voice on the phone. Four days later, Grandma was buried just outside of her homestead in Washita, Oklahoma. I had spent the entire year living in denial about my hearing loss. I don't know if I couldn't believe Grandma was really gone or if I was being selfish.

The day of her funeral, I had flowers delivered to the funeral, and I went to my job. Later that evening, my mother called. I learned I was the only one of 15 grandchildren not in attendance at Grandma's funeral near Washita, Oklahoma. My absence must have stuck out like brilliant sunflowers growing among the dying weeds of Washita...

Lip Reader is about the ties of family. It is about hearing loss and grief and denial and redemption. It is about strong men and women and their children. It is about acceptance and belonging. It is about pride, black sheep and controversy. It is about a young girl's journey with her Oklahoma family. Lip Reader is ultimately an impressionable girl's story because that's when my memories of the Bartlett family are most clear---from my earliest memory as a child through Christmas of 1994, the last time I visited Grandma and Grandpa Bartlett.

My journey with hearing loss begins with the Bartlett family. Lip Reader is a way of saying thank you to my grandparents and finally telling them goodbye 15 years later...

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The Trip to Little Paw - Part Two

2009-12-03T14:33:00.015-06:00

(Note: Read The Trip to Little Paw - Part One first to get an idea about the real-life story behind my novel, Lip Reader. -SG)

Washita, Oklahoma, the inspiration for Lip Reader's Little Paw, was a place I visited for holidays...

My Grandma Bartlett stood in front of a hot white stove with her back to us in the kitchen that used to be a full-fledged diner in the 20s and 30s. Picture "Ma" from John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath...

With her hard-working arms that were stout but soft, that was Grandma Bartlett working at the stove. The smell of pork grease and baking lard filled the tiny home.

"I reckon you'ns gittin' hungry 'bout now," she said, working the palm-size circles of dough on a baking pan. "We's gonna have supper in a lil' while."

My cousin and I had masterfully decorated the two-foot fake tree that sat on the end table by Grandma's front window. I didn't bother admitting I wasn't hungry because the lunch Grandma fed us two hours before was more food than I'd eaten in two days.

I attended college a half hour from my grandparents, and this was the first time I had visited them since venturing out on my own three years before. Again, this was the tiny home I had spent many Thanksgivings and an occasional Christmas...

My dad loved his parents, but he didn't always accompany us on these trips because he worked odd police hours. Christmas with him was a quick bite at 11 o'clock before he left for his patrol shift. My mom usually chauffeured me and my sisters down the bumpy, hilly roads that led to Washita. That's when I got introduced to Thrill Hill...

In Lip Reader, I write about a fictional hill that is so steep and curvy that the characters nickname it Rollercoaster Hill. While I wrote, I thought about my mom punching the gas pedal and sending us in our car flying down Thrill Hill. The rush I got from that hill and the butterflies that formed in my stomach challenged any rollercoaster experience I had had up to that point. Much of Oklahoma land I had traveled on as a girl was flat and monotonous. Southwestern Oklahoma was about as level and arid as the land chosen for The Grapes of Wrath film version...

Imagine the thrill, then, of this solitary hill near Washita. My ride to Grandma and Grandpa Bartlett's home throughout the years had been uneventful and even boring. Until I got to that hill. Then the excitement of being a ten-year-old with her lead-footed mom at the wheel was infectious. It reminded me of why I went to Washita in the first place.

The old diner house my grandparents lived in, as well as other buildings in Washita, were a fascinating study in Oklahoma Depression-era history. The one-room wood-paneled church across the street, which housed everyone from Baptists to Pentecostals over the years, was different from the cookie-cutter red brick buildings that housed the more affluent congregations I had attended. But the small church was as much a part of my grandparents' lives as their home. They lived across the road from the church, and the front window where I decorated the two-foot fake tree gave me a perfect view. I marveled at this old building that was older than my grandparents, yet continued to hold its services every Sunday. I wondered how many families had been married, buried, saved, baptized, and commissioned in that long-suffering church...

Grandma Bartlett smacked her gums and let out an approving "Mmmm!" of the cooked biscuit she had just sampled. "You'ns c'mon and eat now. 'Fore ever'thing gits cold."

I heard a hoarse grunt coming from the head chair at the table. When I walked into the kitchen with my cousin, Grandpa Bartlett sat hovered over his plate, a mug of hot coffee at his lips. He was from the school of marriage in which the women waited on their men from the first serving until the dishes had been dried and put away. Grandpa sat motionless with that mug in his hands, and Grandma pulled the mug away just long enough to top it with fresh coffee.

Grandma Bartlett didn't say anything when Grandpa let out an enthusiastic belch. That was the only sound he made, other than the smacking of lips at the fork and the occasional coughing up of chewing tobacco into the Folgers can on the floor. I forced a fluffy biscuit into my mouth.

That was the last meal I ate with Grandma and Grandpa Bartlett...

The reason I wrote Lip Reader---a book that is as much fictional as it is living, breathing real-life---was, partly, to better understand my grandparents. In the book, Grandma Bebop is warm-hearted and deaf, and she immediately develops a tight bond with granddaughter Sapphie. Grandma Bartlett was also warm-hearted and good to me, but her ears heard better than anyone in the family.

Lip Reader's Grandpa Bebop resembles a real person more than any character in the book. Grandpas Bebop and Bartlett could have been brothers. In my mind, my actual grandfather was the embodiment of what Grandpa Bebop stands for in the book. My grandfather was proud yet humble, a man of faith and temper, a harsh man with a soft core. His hearing loss developed later in life, yet deafness ran several generations in his family.

Why did I not return to their old diner house when Grandpa died four years later or Grandma two Thanksgivings after him? What granddaughter skips her grandparents' funerals, anyway? I'll be back soon with the answers.

Story Continued Here:

The Trip to Little Paw - Part Three

The Trip to Little Paw, Oklahoma - Part One

2009-11-19T15:15:00.015-06:00

Some have asked if Lip Reader is based on a true story. My answer is complicated, so it will take a series of posts here to explain.

A few weeks ago, I drove with my friend, Tina, for a Lip Reader book signing held on the campus of the University of Sciences and Arts of Oklahoma (USAO) in Chickasha, Oklahoma. This medium-size Southwest Oklahoma town, about an hour from Oklahoma City, is the inspiration for Chickapaw, also known as "Chickentown" in Lip Reader.

Little Paw, where the fictional Bebop family lives, is based on the real-life rural community of Washita, about a half-hour's drive from Chickasha. Washita is where most of my dad's family, the Bartletts, lived for half a century. I hadn't been to Washita, nor seen Grandma and Grandpa Bartlett, in 15 years.

I was 20 years old the last time I visited this tiny town that resembles the fictional Little Paw in every way. My grandparents' tiny wood-frame house, twenty-five minutes out of Chickasha, had once been a roadside diner in the '20s and '30s. A bedroom wing had been added to make the structure more domesticized and able to hold any grandchild who visited.

Early on, I learned that some of Washita's other former businesses were transformed into functional living spaces...

The town's one-room post office had housed a transient or two...

A brown-brick former bank building showed off a swingset and burning trash barrel in its front yard....

By the Christmas of 1994 when I drove over from Chickasha where I attended USAO, Grandma and Grandma Bartlett's makeshift home with the screened in porch and squeaky front door sat like an aging yet determined relative. The iron potbelly stove wafted warm and smoky in the middle of the living room. The kitchen's linoleum floor sunk a little lower but still held its salmon pink color....

Grandma Bartlett set up a cheap end table in the home's front window that held a two-feet-tall artificial tree. A box filled with ornamental odds and ends lay next to the table.

"You'ns go on now and dec'rate it." She waved her soft, strong arms at me and another cousin. "I's gonna' get supper fixed."

While Grandma lifted pans of biscuits in and out of the oven, my cousin and I untangled and dusted off decorations we'd seen before. A ball of multicolored lights, once unraveled, flickered and shone when we turned them on. Yarn loops barely held onto their glass bulbs or cookie-cutter ornaments. Each artificial branch received some token of handmade memory.

"Thought about skippin' the tree this year," Grandma hollared from the kitchen. "But since you'ns come to visit..."

So that's what the tabletop tree was: A reward for leaving campus on the weekend when I had homework and friends waiting in Chickasha. A reward for driving the inconveniently bumpy, hilly roads to Washita. A reward for not blinking so I wouldn't miss the turnoff to Grandma and Grandpa Bartlett's gravel driveway. A reward for simply going back.

Why didn't I visit Washita after that Christmas?

Story Continued Here:
The Trip to Little Paw - Part Two

Confessions of a Hard of Hearing Writer

2009-09-18T21:27:00.008-05:00

I confess it’s easier to pretend I hear everything than to ask an interviewee to repeat himself 3-4 times.

I confess I sometimes bluff through an interview so much, that the interviewee thinks he’s talking WAY over my head.

I confess I am unable to hear my telephone ring without hearing aids in.

I confess that most people say they’re sorry when I tell them I have to read lips to “hear” them.

I confess that it irks me when people say that.

I confess that when my eyes get wide and glossy, it means I’m tired of lip-reading and need to take a break.

I confess that when I’m sick of lip-reading, I’m tempted to bang my head on my desk or another hard object to relieve the stress.

I confess that my older two kids usually act as my ears in the following situations: when a person asks me a question and I don’t respond; when someone knocks softly at my door and I don’t answer it; when the phone rings and I don’t have a clue; when anything in the house beeps.

I confess I have learned to accept my limitations. I will never be successful in making a phone call without some sort of special accommodations. E-mailing and text messaging are my new best friends.

I confess that being a hard of hearing writer is not all bad. It’s beautiful being able to tune out my children’s whining, the phone ringing, and the dog barking when I’m working on deadline.

I confess that being a hard of hearing writer has done a number on my personality. I’m no longer as quick to judge others who are different than me. I don’t get as frustrated with having to repeat things to an interviewee, wait for a promising assignment to fall in my lap, or wonder when the next check is coming in the mail.

I confess that hearing loss has changed me. Good and bad, I like how I’ve changed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

August Book Signings

In early August, Author Shanna Groves presented the writing workshop, "Writing from the Inside Out," at the Norman Public Library in Norman, Oklahoma. A Lip Reader book signing followed.

Among the attendees at Norman's signing were Jennifer Eason-Frye (below, top photo), who traveled from Denton, Texas, and Kristy Martin from Chickasha, Oklahoma (below, bottom photo).

In late August, Shanna Groves co-led the presentation "Hearing Loss and Relationships" for the Kansas City Chapter of the Hearing Loss Association of America. Attendees included (below, top photo) Jennifer McCalmon of Olathe, Kansas, and (below, bottom photo) Shirley and Harvey Umstead of Springfield, Missouri. A special thank you to Melissa Frye for assisting with the presentation.

An Open Letter to My Hearing Friends

2009-08-03T14:45:00.008-05:00

Dear Friend,

I want to discuss an important difference we have—something that can impact our entire communication from this point forward.

When you were born, your hearing was normal. So was mine. For years, I took the ability to hear for granted. I listened to my car stereo several notches too loud and sat in concert arenas filled with the shrill sounds of guitars, drums and vocalists belting out tunes. As a college student, I worked in a noisy printing press environment without wearing earplugs. All the while, my hearing gradually suffered.

For the past eight years, my life has differed from yours. It’s all because of a diagnosis I received two months after my oldest child was born: I have progressive hearing loss.

What does that mean? Imagine losing the sensitive hairs that line the back of your neck, one by one. You wait and wait for them to grow back, but they never do. For some unknown reason, the hairs are gone forever. That has happened to my inner ears. The nerve hairs in the deepest part of each ear have been destroyed permanently. Cause unknown. Without these hairs, my ears are not as sensitive to sound as yours.

The first part of my hearing that disappeared was with high-frequency pitches—birds singing, kids screaming, phones ringing, and all soft consonant sounds (f, s, t, v). Gone. Permanently. I am deaf to these noises.

The inability to hear high-frequency pitches affects all of my conversations with you.

You: “Is the baby sleeping?”
What I hear: “Ha! Baby leaping.”

You: “What time is it?”
What I hear: “Whoa, I’m in.”

I have worn hearing aids for six years to help with hearing better. But please repeat after me:

HEARING AIDS ARE A HELP, NOT A SOLUTION FOR HEARING LOSS.

With my hearing aids, I can hear the phone ring and the kids scream and soft consonant sounds—most of the time. Yet even with the aids, I still can’t hear robins chirping over me as I sit on my backyard swing. Do I miss that sound? Yes. Every day.

I want to ask that the two of us find a way to bridge the gap between our hearing differences, to understand each other. So, here are my suggestions...

~ Please face me when you speak. My eyes have become my ears. I watch your lips move and interpret your facial and body gestures. That is impossible to do when I am in the driver’s seat and you are talking to me from the passenger’s side of the car. Let me stop the car or come to a stoplight so I can give you my full attention.

~ Quiet rooms are always the best place for me to hear you well. When this isn’t possible, I hear better in a private booth rather than at a table in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Better yet, pull me aside, look me in the eye, and speak slowly and with good articulation. Doing this will decrease the chances of you having to repeat yourself three times before I get it.

~ I don’t expect you to walk on eggshells if you are unsure whether I have heard something you said. It is much better to tell me that I didn’t respond to your question, than to assume I am rude, dumb or zoned out for not answering.

~ If any of my suggestions seem too radical, I’d like you to try an experiment. Wedge two cotton balls in both of your ears, then try to carry on a conversation in a noisy room with your eyes closed. Difficult, isn’t it? Welcome to my world!

By writing to you, I hope to provide insight that will help when we have our next conversation. You are a good friend for taking the time to read this letter. You’ve shown support in my hearing journey by taking an interest in what I write. Thank you for that.

As your friend, here is my commitment to you...

~ I promise to give you my full attention when you speak to me.

~ I promise to politely ask you to repeat yourself if I have missed something you said.

~ I promise to care about what you have to say because I care about you.

Blessings,
Shanna

Summer Sounds

2009-07-28T14:04:00.009-05:00

Nighttime falling
Locusts in cocoons
Buzzing, humming
Sticking in their nests
Clinging to the flourishing tree limbs
Without a care in the world
But to sing, chant, hum

The sound joined in by leaves swishing
Against rough tree bark
Melodic and steady

The drums supplied by a round of
Fireworks ignited
On a gravel driveway
Thumping rocks against
Exploding fire sparks

All of the summer night's symphony made audible
By the machines
I wear
In my ears

Fresh battery
Shut battery case
Place device in the ear

Sounds
Summer sounds
I once knew as a child
Before flourishing youth
Collided
With inevitable loss

The night noises I hummed to as a little girl—
The locusts
Leaves
Fourth of July explosions

Now a memory
If not for my
Hearing machines

-SG

The Princess with Broken Ears

2009-07-15T15:29:00.010-05:00

When I was asked to speak to a moms group at church, I thought of the boldest way to make an entrance. Holding a plastic scepter and donning an old bridesmaid's dress, I twirled around the room singing "I am a princess!"

It wasn't the dress or impromptu dance that made me feel courageous. My hair was pulled back in an up-do that showed all the moms what I had been hiding for two years. A set of hearing aids.

It had become a habit to pretend. After being diagnosed with progressive hearing loss a few months after my son was born, I felt safer wearing my hair down and pretending like I had normal hearing. It was easier to laugh at the punch line than to tell my friends I didn't hear the entire joke. I dominated conversations because there was less chance of someone having to repeat what they said if they didn't get a chance to talk.

When I stepped onto the stage ready to speak about overcoming fear, I quickly scanned the audience for their reaction. Not one person turned her head at the shocking sight of my hearing aids. It was like, So she's hard of hearing. Well, that's OK. The weight of two years of worry seemed to lift off my shoulders, and I finished my speech feeling confident and beautiful.

A few weeks later, I received an e-mail from a new mom in our group. Michelle wrote about how a stroke had paralyzed half of her body a few years back. She was confined to a wheelchair at first, but extensive physical therapy enabled her to walk with a strong limp and use one of her hands. Michelle felt a lot better after my presentation because she realized she isn't the only young mom in our group with physical disabilities.

There may be a limit to what I can hear, and I may not catch most jokes. Still, I'm glad I dressed up and potentially made a fool out of myself because it inspired someone else.

It was hard to pretend I could hear and much more fun to be a princess.

Author Shanna Groves (left) attended the Hearing Loss Association of America Convention in Nashville, TN, in June, for a book signing. Posing with Groves are Tina Willoughby (center) and Minda Nelson.

Debbie Bottles (right) visited with Shanna Groves at the Hearing Loss Association of America book signing.

Shanna Groves signed copies of her book and presented "Writing from the Inside Out" at the July meeting of the Heart of America Christian Writers Network in Kansas City.

2009-07-15T15:29:00.001-05:00

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Different

2009-07-09T14:12:00.006-05:00

By Shanna Groves

I am not so sure I like what I see today.
Sags under the eyes, a mass of hair twisted into a low ponytail,
my ears completely exposed.

It took me two years before I'd let this much of myself show.
My bottle blonde hair
and palette of cosmetics
usually help me blend in with the other moms
who drive their children to sporting events
on a warm summer afternoon.
I turn the wheel,
hoping to avoid the stark reflection
that stares back in the rearview mirror.

A profile of me with the low ponytail says it all:
There is something different about me.
I am wearing hearing aids.

The chatty crowd becomes a little more subdued
(at least I imagine that it does)
as I walk past them with my behind-the-ear hearing aids
in full view.
This is the first time these moms
with their casual T-ball attire
have seen me with my hair pulled back.

As a child, I walked up to complete strangers
and introduced myself just to make them smile.
How can I face these moms now
who usually see me as I want them to,
an extrovert who likes jumping into their conversations
with a gracious nod
as if I've heard every word they said?

"By his stripes we are healed,"
writes ancient prophet Isaiah.
"Only when we accept the truth of our brokenness can we be healed,"
reads my latest journal entry.

How could God allow this to happen
to a young body;
progressive hearing loss
on a seemingly healthy body?

I force myself to
face the mirror,
face the moms and their polite stares,
face the cruel reality that has a surprising hint of beauty behind it.

This is who I am.
I am slowly going deaf.
This was meant to happen,
to help me hear beyond what comes through
flawed ears.
This has made me different.

My heart has cracked open
and now it can hear
everything
that it didn't hear before.

Lip Reader Featured on NBC News-Kansas City

2009-06-14T23:01:00.006-05:00

Christa Dubill, morning anchor with KSHB NBC 41 News in Kansas City interviewed Shanna Groves about her hearing loss and new novel, Lip Reader, during the mid-day show on June 9.

Here is a transcript of the interview.

Christa: For today’s everyday parent, we invited Shanna Groves, an Olathe mom and an author, to talk about her new novel, Lip Reader, just actually hit bookshelves on June 1st. This is a pretty big deal for you.

Shanna: It is.

Christa: I first want to talk a little bit about your background, because at the age of 27, you’re this young mom, and you start to lose your hearing.

Shanna: My son had just been born, and two months after that, I went to a doctor with persistent ringing in both of my ears. And I was diagnosed with Progressive Hearing Loss in both ears. Basically what that means is that over time, my hearing will continue to decline. There was no cause or explanation for the hearing loss other than I do have a family history of hearing loss in my extended family.

Christa: So it was one of those things where now you’ve got an 8 year old, a 4 year old, and now a one year old. Folks at home, can you imagine having the hearing loss. You said you have to direct your kids to repeat, or look at you when they’re talking. You do a lot of lip reading.

Shanna: I do a lot of lip reading. My children do have to repeat themselves when we’re driving in the car. I tell them to wait until the car is stopped, and then I’ll either turn around or I’ll look in the rearview mirror so that I can read their lips.

Christa: Yeah, and so now lip reading, you titled the book LIP READER, and this is a novel that you’ve been working to try to get it done. We understand you’re a busy mom, but it’s finally finished! Tell me a little bit about the book.

Shanna: The book involves a family, with the narrator being a 12 year old girl, centered in the early 1980s in a small Oklahoma town. The other characters include her mom, grandparents, aunt, uncle, and a younger sister. Each of the family members in some way is dealing with a hearing loss, or a deafness, a cultural deafness.

Christa: And you said this is sort of, could be inspiring for families if they’re dealing with any kind of hearing loss with the members of their family. To read this might help them understand things a little bit better.

Shanna: Exactly. Christa, the book has a list of resources for people dealing with hearing loss in the back of the book. It also has discussion questions that family members can discuss with their kids who are concerned about why people use sign language, why they lip read, why you wear hearing aids. And, so, it would be an educational thing to share with your children.

Christa: I do want to mention that you’ve got a book signing set up on June 13th, that’s this Saturday, from 1-3 p.m. at the Deaf Cultural Center, that’s on East Park in Olathe. And you said you can get the book there, it’s one of a couple of places you can get it. Also, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Shanna: Yes, barnesandnoble.com.

Christa: Ok. But there’s one coming up is this weekend.

Shanna: There is.

Christa: Well, good luck with everything.

Shanna: Thank you.

Christa: And happy parenting.

Shanna: Thank you.

Christa: It can be tough no doubt. We will have that information posted on our website right after this mid-day newscast.

Tips for Hard of Hearing Parents and Grandparents

2009-06-01T14:33:00.002-05:00

(Note: This article is posted in its entirety at HearingHearing.com.)

By Shanna Groves

As a hard of hearing (HOH) mother of three, I can become frustrated with not hearing my children's voices well. And I am not alone. According to the Deafness Research Foundation, 17 percent of American adults report some degree of hearing loss. Many are parents or grandparents.

Among them is Mary Butler of Tennessee, a hard of hearing mother of a 9 month-old child. Because of the challenges of understanding a child’s delicate voice, Butler said she would think twice before watching other people’s children.

“It is very difficult, if next to impossible, to discern what they are saying,” Butler said. “I’ve met children who became very frustrated with me because they thought I wasn’t paying attention to them. Let’s just say I am happy to baby sit a newborn, but once they reach the age where they start talking, I’ll pass.”

Among the communication difficulties noted by Deborah Wolter and Kathleen Quinn in their article “Young Children in Families with a Parent with Hearing Loss” (Hearing Loss, July/August 1999) are:

* Lack of dialogue between kids and their HOH parents

* HOH adults using older children as interpreters for younger kids

* Failure to hear a child’s night crying and identify its cause

* Tantrums, whining or frustration among children when unable to get the adult’s attention

* Younger kids gesturing, pointing or leading the HOH adult instead of talking

In a perfect world, all children would come with captioning devices attached to them so hard of hearing folks could understand their words. Until that day, these communication and technology strategies may help.

Make Eye Contact
Susan Baird of Ontario has lived with hearing loss since age 13. Her son, who lives at home, is also has hearing loss. Because her kids become frustrated with repeating things, she asks them to tap her shoulder and clearly say “Mom” first. She then makes eye contact, and they begin speaking.

“I tell them always to face me when talking, be close to me when talking and talk slowly to me,” Baird said.

If it is an important conversation topic, Baird takes them to a quiet room to talk so that she and the kids can pay attention.

“Sometimes if they don't do these things, I just don't answer as I have only heard part of the story,” she said.

Consider Technology and Hearing Dogs
Hearing our children when in another room of the house is challenging if not impossible for HOH adults. In addition to wearing hearing aids or cochlear implants, some parents and grandparents rely on hearing assistive technologies.

To hear her baby’s middle-of-the-night cries, Butler initially opted for the AlertMaster wireless notification system, which flashed a connected lamp and shook her bed to alert her. One drawback was that her youngster had to wail loudly for several seconds for the monitor to be activated. She now uses a simple Fisher Price Lights and Sounds monitor that features illuminated red dots as the crying intensifies. As a back-up, Butler sleeps with her hearing aids on. While the hearing aids are uncomfortable to wear while sleeping, she insists that they are crucial in alerting her to her baby’s sobs.

Vibrating and strobe-flashing monitors can be programmed to alert a parent or grandparent of noise coming from a child’s room. A video monitor is another option, but only for daytime use as there is no guarantee of it waking up a HOH person in the middle of the night.

A frequency modulated (FM) system can assist with hearing a child in a noisy car or restaurant. The HOH adult attaches a FM system loop to hearing aids, and the child wears a microphone receiver. The child’s voice is transmitted directly to the adult’s aids via the FM system.

For the animal lover, a trained hearing assistance dog may work just as well or better than assistive technology. Denise Portis of Maryland acquired a hearing dog as her kids got older. Canine helper “Chloe” alerts Portis to various sounds and provides balance support due to the Meniere’s Disease Portis has dealt with for five years. “When Chloe is with me, I don’t feel as ‘deaf’ or as ‘helpless,’” Portis shared recently on her site, HearingElmo.com. “She makes me feel more ‘normal’ in providing things I cannot do for myself.”

Have Fun with Communication
Portis began losing her hearing after the birth of a son. Her daughter was barely a year old. To teach such young children how to communicate with her, Portis devised age-appropriate games.

As toddlers, they played a variation of Peek-a-boo. Portis covered her eyes with her hands and remained quiet. Then she lowered her hands, made eye contact and spoke to them. “If they grew impatient and said something while I was ‘covered,’ I’d say, ‘Oh... What? Wait I can't see you. I can't hear you!’” Portis said. “They soon learned to mimic me and would be very quiet and serious when their chubby little baby hands covering their eyes. Then they’d ‘pop’ out and laugh and say, ‘I see you... I see you.’”

The “Guess What? Face” game became popular as the kids grew older. Portis would run over to them and in an excited voice say, “I’ve got my Guess What? Face on!” Then, kneeling at eye level and with her hands on their cheeks, she would tell them something.

Turn Noises Off
Sometimes a parent or grandparent with hearing loss needs a hearing rest. Whether it is a nap or a few minutes of quiet time, we should encourage children to accommodate us in our need for minimal noise.

Russell Barr’s hearing loss is selective. He can understand most men’s voices, but he struggles to hear children. When his two-year-old granddaughter visits, the TV is off and other background noise is reduced. “This translates into more immediate and intimate time with her. And in overcompensating, I actually pay more attention to her”, said Barr, of Kansas. “Who doesn't like to be the center of the universe even for a couple of minutes?”

One part of the day can be declared “Take My Ears Out” time. Portis let her kids know when her hearing aids or cochlear implant was taken out, and they would have to write her a note if they wanted to discuss something. “Now that we have our own computers,” Portis said, “they often IM me during the day even though they are only downstairs. I've even received text messages from my son who prefers not having to come find me!”

Educate Your Child
Often As our children grow, there is much we can teach them about hearing loss. Besides facing us when they talk, kids should be educated about good speech habits, such as enunciating words, speaking slowly, and standing no more than a few feet away when talking to an adult with hearing loss.

Eric Wright of Kansas has a newly diagnosed hearing loss. Both he and his family, which includes an eight-year-old daughter and six-year-old son, are learning the best communication strategies through trial and error. When Wright doesn’t catch what his daughter says, even though she is facing him, he asks her to speak clearly into his hearing aided ear. “I have lost those pitches that include small children's voices,” he said. “I also have a hard time when people are talking fast because they are excited. I have to ask people to slow down sometimes.”

Other helpful tips for parents and grandparents with hearing loss:
* Encourage your children to speak clearly by teaching them proper word pronunciation. Emphasize each vowel and consonant sound, particularly the “softer” consonant sounds of “t,” “s” “f” and “v.”

* Ask the child to turn off any toys or music before speaking, since both create background noise.

* When your kids are in the backseat while you are driving a car, ask them to wait until you are at a stoplight to communicate with you, if at all possible. Try not to respond to comments from children unless the car is stopped. The FM hearing device (mentioned above) may help with hearing their voices.

* In other situations, respond to a child’s question or comment only if he or she is facing you. Eventually, the child will understand the importance of eye contact in communicating with a HOH person.

* If you don’t understand what a child said, resist the urge to pretend you did. Instead say, “My ears didn’t hear you. Please tell me again.”

~~~

About the Author
Shanna Groves is the author of Lip Reader and writes extensively about hearing loss issues on the Lip Reader Blog.

~~~

About Healthy Hearing
As Your Homepage for Hearing Healthcare, Healthy Heaing provides opportunities to customize our information for you or a loved one with hearing loss. Visit: www.healthyhearing.com

Lip Reader Now On Sale

2009-05-13T22:30:00.011-05:00

Copies of Lip Reader are now on sale at Amazon.com. Click here to order. Your comments on the Amazon Customer Reviews section are appreciated.

Lip Reader Discussion Group Offer

A limited number of discounted autographed copies will be made available to book discussion groups. Contact Shanna for details.

Reader Comments

"Here's your chance to read this brand new novel. You'll find the first chapter grabs you, and before you know it, you'll have read the entire novel in one sitting. At least, that's what happened to me!" -Neil Bauman, Ph.D., Center for Hearing Loss Help, Pennsylvania

"Wow! I started it and it just pulled at my heartstrings ... later that night, I saw the manuscript beckoning to me. I had to go back to it; I was pulled in again until I finally finished it. Well done. Unique story line. It reminded me of a Flannery O’Connor book." -Barbara Kelley, Deputy Executive Director, Hearing Loss Association of America, Washington, D.C

"Lip Reader deals lovingly yet unflinchingly with growing up, surviving tangled family dynamics, and navigating the world of hearing loss. What moves me is the hopefulness that pervades this story about a girl who decides to choose grace over bitterness. A great read!" -Jennifer, Kansas

"I was hooked and spent all my spare time reading it. Let me know when and where I can get this in print. I would like to buy a couple of copies." -Sarah, Utah

"Lip Reader is a wonderful coming of age tale infused with how Sapphie overcomes some physical and emotional struggles in her life and the lives of those around her. It is a story about life, love, bitterness, and ultimately, redemption. " -Teressa, Kansas

"An insightful look into the challenges faced by a hearing-impared family. The characters are vivid and lively. I enjoyed the book and I'm left wanting to read more. " -Tammy, Oklahoma

Click here for more reader comments

Confessions of a Hard of Hearing Mom

2009-03-19T16:07:00.010-05:00

By Shanna Groves

Time to ’fess up. My ears aren’t as sensitive as they used to be.

I confess that I pretend to hear everything my kids say even when they’re calling each other “stupid” and I don’t know it.

I confess I laugh before a joke’s punch line, not because of a warped sense of humor, but because I didn’t catch the joke’s first sentence.

I confess I wear my hair long to keep my hearing aids from sticking out like Dumbo ears.

I confess that I am unable to hear my telephone ring without my hearing aids in.

I confess that I don’t understand most dialogue on TV without the closed captioning turned on.

I confess that I get irked when the closed captioning isn’t working or is turned off.

I confess that most people I haven’t seen in years are shocked when I tell them I have to read lips to “hear” them.

I confess that my older two kids usually act as my ears in the following situations: when a person asks me a question and I don’t respond; when someone knocks softly at my door and I don’t answer it; when the phone rings and I’m not wearing my hearing aids; when my youngest child wakes from his nap upstairs and is crying at the top of his lungs; when anything in the house beeps.

I confess that I have learned to accept my limitations. I will never be successful in making a phone call without some sort of special accommodations (i.e., using a loud-volume phone or speaker phone; asking the person on the other line to repeat themselves 2-5 times, using Web-based phone captioning).

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom is not my choice. In fact, it can make me downright cranky.

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom makes me smile sometimes, especially when my kids are squealing, whining, moaning, or acting like brats, because I can tune it all out.

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom has changed me. I’m not as quick to judge others who are different than me.

I confess I’m not as impatient as I used to be. I don’t get as frustrated with having to repeat things to a store cashier, to wait in a long line, or drive in rush-hour traffic.

I confess that being a hard of hearing mom has changed me. And I like how I’ve changed.

About the Author

Shanna Groves has been a hard of hearing mom since 2001. She is the author of the novel Lip Reader (Outskirts Press, May/June 2009 release) and creator of the Lip Reader Blog.

Is there a Hard of Hearing Culture?

2009-03-16T16:55:00.004-05:00

By Shanna Groves

In my soon-to-be-published novel Lip Reader, a church pastor goes out of his way to make sure his deaf congregants understand the music and sermon. He uses sign language while preaching. The music is interpreted through sign and a loud beating drum. Any deaf person visiting this church for the first time would likely feel a connection with the other deaf people there.

Most of us are aware that a Deaf culture exists. Simply visit a state school for the deaf, and observe students and teachers communicating mostly through American Sign Language (ASL). Or sit in on a coffee house "chat" with a local Deaf social group, and notice how quiet the room is while attendees use sign. The Deaf culture is something its participants are proud of, a culture with a shared ASL language and communication style that goes back many years.

Now observe a local meeting of a hearing loss support group. The keynote speaker communicates with both sign language and orally. A man sitting in the back relies on an ASL translator to understand the speaker. A row of people read real-time captions from an overhead screen as a person types what the speaker is saying. Two women sitting up front watch the speaker's lips attentively to catch each word spoken. All of these people, except the sign interpreter and typist, are hard of hearing. Yet they all have different ways of communicating and understanding one another.

Without a shared communication style, can individuals with hearing loss really have their own sense of community or culture? Readers of this blog recently shared their opinions...

"I have total hearing loss in both ears. But because I was adult deafened and am oral and do not use sign language, I am not considered culturally Deaf, rather hard of hearing. Yet I am "deafer" than 95 percent of the students at the local state school for the deaf who have some residual hearing. I am in between cultures. I cannot participate in the hearing community, nor the Deaf community." - Sherry Mason, Missouri

"My husband has hearing loss, and it is very difficult to hear in restaurants and other public places. I think people who don't deal with hearing challenges are unaware of the obstacles they create. Is that cultural?" - Amy Hemingway Smith, Texas

"How about coming up with a definition of 'culture?' And with some parameters for what you mean by 'hard of hearing' people? Do you mean only people with partial hearing loss who use speech (and maybe speechreading) to communicate? I've been assuming you are distinguishing between Deaf people (who use sign language) and hard of hearing people who don't, but not everyone will realize that. Also, I still think that only people who socialize with several oral hard of hearing people at the same time can really answer the question. People who have never done so aren't in a position to know themselves whether or not there is a HOH culture--they won't have seen it in action." -Dana Mulvany, Washington, D.C. (has hearing loss)

The last comment raises a good question. How can a hard of hearing (HOH) culture be defined?

A shared communication style. They prefer to speak orally, instead of only using sign language. Lip reading (also known as speechreading) is also a common way to understand one another.
A strong reliance on technology. Hearing aids and assistive listening devices are available to help the HOH population understand speech and hear important sounds.
A strong reliance on closed captioning. Captions assist with understanding television, movies, and (when available) live presentations. This could also fall under the technology category.
Emotional connection. This would include not always feeling connected with the hearing world because of difficulty understanding speech. For those not comfortable with sign language, they may not feel part of the Deaf culture. Emotionally, individuals with hearing loss might feel somewhat isolated from the hearing and/or Deaf "worlds."

Sound Off
If a hard of hearing culture does exist, what do you think defines it? Post your comments below.

***

About the Author
Shanna Groves considers herself hard of hearing. She is the author of the novel Lip Reader (Outskirts Press, May/June 2009 release) and creator of the Lip Reader Blog.

"C" is for Captions... And Change

2009-02-21T16:07:00.001-06:00

By Shanna Groves

In my soon-to-be-published novel, Lip Reader, young Sapphie Traylor receives a lesson in closed captioning technology.

"That expensive thing is a decoder box,” Aunt Jolene said to me. “Your uncle and cousin can’t hear well, so this box makes words go across the TV screen. It's called closed captioning."

I sat beside her. "So they can read the words?"

"Yep, when it works," she said. "But sometimes the box gets too hot; all the words just scramble up. Makes your uncle crazy."

That’s the way closed captioning was during my book’s 1980s setting. Today’s TVs, outfitted with federally required captioning technology, provide much clearer captions. Pick a DVD, click on the subtitles, and enjoy flicks without hearing a word.

But what about captioning of other forms of entertainment? National Public Radio (NPR) is working on a project that includes captioning of its broadcasting. Certain live performances now offer captioning. You can request captioning for plays and concerts, just like interpreters, said Lise Hamlin with the Hearing Loss Association of America. “It takes time and patience to get that accepted, but it has happened in NYC and DC and NJ and other places—it's growing.”

While captions help those of us with hearing loss better understand sound, we’re nowhere near a Closed Captioning Utopia.

I dare you to not get frustrated when a captioned football game flashes one misspelling after the other on your screen. Or when a weather telecast isn’t subtitled. Or when a live music performance is uncaptioned.

My husband and I planned for weeks to see B.B. King on Valentine’s Day. I expected to not understand all of the legendary performer’s lyrics because of my hearing loss. Still, I knew I could feel and enjoy the beat to his songs. I didn’t expect to sit stone-faced for 45 minutes while B.B. broke into story after story about his music journey. Afterward, my husband called the anecdotes funny and enlightening. I wouldn’t know. Captioning and interpreters weren’t on the concert bill.

Some of my blog readers sounded off on their own captioning experiences...

“I went to see the play ‘Arabian Nights.’ Even through there were two ASL interpreters, I felt I did miss out on some. My dream is to have some sort of virtual captioning hovering above the performers' heads.” –Pamela Siebert

“I like to watch television without sound. I even watch musicals without sound. It's too much hard work trying to listen to TV with hearing aids. Ditto with movies. No captions = no watching!” –Tony Nicholas

“Does anyone else notice that with DVR, rewinding a program will sometimes start the captioning? No captioning although it is indicated, then I rewind and in just seconds, the captions magically appear.” –Heidi Storme

Are captions helpful? Absolutely. But those few bumps in the road need to be fixed.

I’m all for advocating to improve and increase captioning worldwide. It means contacting the place where B.B. King strummed his guitar and request captioning of future shows. And the persistence to keep contacting them if my first request is ignored.

Change starts when I refuse to just rant and rave on a blog, and educate folks who determine whether or not I enjoy a concert. Captioning is a necessity, not a luxury. The technology is there—waiting to be refined, waiting to be used everywhere. Visit the Links section on my blog for a list of hearing loss organizations advocating for change, and join me in supporting them.

Will you help me get the word out?

~~~

Shanna Groves is the author of Lip Reader, a novel about an Oklahoma family’s hearing loss experiences during the early-1980s. The book will be published in mid- to late-2009.

A Hearing Loss Story

2009-02-15T17:02:00.007-06:00

By Melissa Ruth, Guest Blogger

Early on in my life, I experienced hearing loss issues. Before I was 5 years of age, I had had five sets of tubes put into my ears. As I grew, the problems seemed to diminish. As I went through school, I was able to hear my teachers and friends with no trouble. After I graduated High School, I would experience occasional issues where the fluid in my ears was so bad that I couldn't hear but it usually went away with little help.

After my third child, at the age of 29, I immediately noticed a difference in my hearing. I realized I couldn't hear my children even when they were standing right in front of me. Hearing tests revealed my hearing loss was significantly worse, requiring hearing aids as a solution. The first day the hearing aids were put on, I could not believe all that I had missed. The sounds on the bus, the kids laughing and the water running…It was all so wonderful.

Shortly after, I quickly realized hearing on a cell phone was horrible. It was 2004 and the technology was out but the cell phone representatives didn't know anything about it. It was at this time, I studied and researched all the current technology so I could find what would work best for me.

The first and most important thing to look for when looking for a cell phone is that the phone has been given a designation of M4/T4. Do your research before going in. Know what models your cellular company is providing that have an M4/T4 designation. Secondly, know that just because a phone is designated M4/T4 doesn't mean it will work with your hearing aid.

Verizon Wireless is great for this. You can try each and every one of their current models by going into one of their stores. Make sure you try a phone out before you commit! I tried many phones but found only certain manufacturers work best with my hearing aids.

Having a cell phone that works great with my hearing aids was the first step. The second was a Bluetooth headset that works with my cell phone or my computer. I found one that hooks onto my ears next to my hearing aids. It's called the Beetle H-2ST. It allows me to listen to music in stereo sound or anything else I want to listen to. While it still needs work on the microphone side, it's a great tool I rely on daily. They also make Bluetooth neckloops and one that connects to your hearing aid through the use of a boot.

Whatever technology you want to use to add functionality to your hearing aid, don't despair and don't give up. Don't rely on others to know everything about these products. Research what you want, spread the word about what you are looking for and what you've found. Don't think that just because you are hearing impaired means you can't enjoy the same conveniences.

Lastly, I have had a tendency, once I have made progress and found what works for me, to stay with it and not try new things. However, if I had kept that belief, I never would have found the joys of listening to music again or hearing the television. Therefore, I am determined to always push myself to know what is out there, what's coming and what's possible.

Melissa Ruth is a hard-of-hearing mom of three. She currently runs a home-based business (www.ruthinc.com) and blogs at http://melissaruth.wordpress.com. Her motto: “Keep moving forward―even if it's just one step at a time!”

Wanted: Guest Bloggers
Do you have an interesting story or tidbit of advice about hearing loss? Post your ideas in the comments section below, and include your e-mail address. You may be contacted for a guest blogger writing opportunity.

My Secret Life with Ear Plugs ... Revealed!

2009-02-08T16:06:00.005-06:00

As a hard-of-hearing person, I’m continuously learning to adapt to my surroundings. Take restaurants, for instance. Loud music and dining room conversations always compete with the lively antics of my three kids. Forget trying to lip-read a four-year-old who loves sucking her thumb while chatting.

Date nights with my husband are no different. He is an aspiring guitarist and connoisseur of all kinds of music. For years, he begged me to attend concerts. I’d usually flash him an “Are you crazy? I want to keep what’s left of my hearing” kinda look.

This Valentine’s day, I’m giving in. I’ll be wearing these blue foamy things that my husband calls the best ear plugs on the market. They stick out a mile from my head. I might as well affix a label to my forehead that reads: “From the Planet of Nitpicky, Highly Sensitive Concert-goers.”

Still, the show features B.B. King and Buddy Guy. Really... How could I pass this one up?

Come this Saturday, I will witness these Blues Brothers as they strum their guitars and wail ditties about how their women done them wrong. I’ll tap my feet and wiggle my hips right along with my blissful hubby. I’ll bop my head back and forth to the beat, while the blue foamy things struggle to stay in my ears. A smile will be plastered on my face the entire time.

I may be hard of hearing, but I know a good time when I see one.

-S.G.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lip Reader in the Hands of an Amazing Editor

Bless my editor’s heart. She has to put up with my constant demands of proofreading Lip Reader at a lightening-speed pace. The good news: She is very good at what she does, and the book is more than halfway edited. Hopefully, the book will be sent to the publisher by mid-March.

I’ll post updates on the book’s editing status in the coming weeks. Thank you for your patience as my editor and I work furiously to get this project polished and ready for you in book form.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanted: Guest Bloggers

Do you have an interesting story or tidbit of advice about hearing loss? Post your ideas in the comments section below, and include your e-mail address. You may be contacted for a guest blogger writing opportunity.

What People Are Saying About Lip Reader

2009-01-03T21:33:00.018-06:00

"Here's your chance to read this brand new novel. You'll find the first chapter grabs you, and before you know it, you'll have read the entire novel in one sitting—all 30 chapters. At least, that's what happened to me!" -Neil Bauman, Ph.D., Center for Hearing Loss Help, Pennsylvania

"Wow! I started it and it just pulled at my heartstrings ... later that night, I saw the manuscript beckoning to me. I had to go back to it; I was pulled in again until I finally finished it. Well done. Unique story line. It reminded me of a Flannery O’Connor book." -Barbara Kelley, Deputy Executive Director, Hearing Loss Association of America, Washington, D.C.

"Shanna Groves has skillfully crafted a fascinating family who reside in Little Paw, Oklahoma, plagued with an inherited deafness. Sapphie Traylor comes of age as she discovers family secrets long hidden in the outback of Oklahoma. A very engaging read." -Sally Jadlow, Author of The Late Sooner

"Lip Reader deals lovingly yet unflinchingly with growing up, surviving tangled family dynamics, and navigating the world of hearing loss. What moves me is the hopefulness that pervades this story about a girl who decides to choose grace over bitterness. A great read!" -Jennifer, Kansas

"I was hooked and spent all my spare time reading it. Let me know when and where I can get this in print. I would like to buy a couple of copies." -Sarah, Utah

"Lip Reader is a wonderful coming of age tale infused with how Sapphie overcomes some physical and emotional struggles in her life and the lives of those around her. It is a story about life, love, bitterness, and ultimately, redemption. " -Teressa, Kansas

"An insightful look into the challenges faced by a hearing-impared family. The characters are vivid and lively. I enjoyed the book and I'm left wanting to read more. " -Tammy, Oklahoma

"The book is a warm, well-written story about serious family problems—many from non-communication. The characters are well-developed; you feel you know them personally. Very good!" -Shirley, Missouri

"I loved Lip Reader. It was an insightful read into the world of the hearing impaired. There are lots of parallels and contrasts going on with characters that was very fun to follow and see how it would turn out. I think the book has two top messages: forgiveness of self and others, and to be honest and truthful to yourself and others. " -Leah, Kansas

"I read the whole thing. Very well done. I'm most impressed. I hope this book does well as I think it's in the top 1% of books out there." -David, Wisconsin

"Lip Reader is a touching, heart-felt story that is so vividly written, you can literally see and feel everything happening as the story unfolds. I was on the edge of my seat, laughing, crying, and wanting to know what was about to happen next." -Erica, Missouri

"Lip Reader is a story of hearing loss, how it affects family dynamics, and concludes with forgiveness and the hope of redemption." -Teena, Kansas

A Brief Synopsis of Lip Reader, the Novel

Rea Traylor secretly wants to break free of the confines of marriage and motherhood. Husband Danny's conventional ways and modest income as a police officer in early-1980s Colorado cause growing resentment for his free-spirited wife. The couple has two young daughters: wise-beyond-her-years Sapphie and Roni, an introverted thumb-sucker. After inventing a story to Sapphie, their older daughter, about Dan having an affair, Rea flees with her children to an impoverished town in western Oklahoma where Rea’s estranged parents and siblings live.

Sapphie Traylor has never before met her mother’s family and is jolted by their eccentricities: Grandpa Bebop is an unpaid pastor to an ultra-conservative congregation and moonlights as a mechanic; Grandma has an eighth grade education and is too meek to confront her husband’s stern religious beliefs; the grown Bebop children live in trailers parked next to their parents’ run-down house that used to be a café; nearly everyone in the family has some degree of deafness. Once Sapphie learns surprising truths about her family, she has the clues she needs to understand them and the mystery behind their hearing loss.

Lip Reader - An Excerpt

2008-07-11T16:16:00.009-05:00

A Novel

By Shanna Groves

Mom slowed the car down after we passed the coffee can house with the burning barrel. I still felt the tiny rocks in the road as we drove over them.

"There's something you should know before we pull up at your grandparents."

She slowed down like we were about to stop.

"First, their house leaves a lot to be desired. Little Paw once had its very own diner, and now your grandparents are living in it."

I imagined that place called Smiley's Diner back in Colorado with Lucille the waitress. I wondered if Grandma Bebop had Cain's coffee mugs hanging over her kitchen table, too.

"How long have they lived there?" I asked.

"A long time. Now listen up because what I'm about to tell you is important."

Mom pulled the car to a complete stop in the middle of the gravel road. Two small houses sat on each side of the road, but neither one of them looked like an old diner.

"Your grandparents don't hear the way you and I do. You must speak up when you talk to them. Have I made myself clear?" Mom's eyes were squinted and serious like I'd better be paying attention.

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I said “okay.”

She cranked the car out of “Park” and passed the two houses. We came up on a small shed with a tin roof that looked like it was about to fall off. In the front were two folding chairs with a large Folgers can turned upside down between them. It was hard to tell what was inside the shed because it was so dark now.

Mom switched on the Mercury's brightest headlights to see the road.

When Mom turned into the driveway just past the shed, she put the dims back on.

In front of us was what used to be Little Paw's diner. It had a screened-in porch that was dark because there weren't any outside lights on. In the distance was the glow of a TV screen from the front of the home. The house was all wood, except for the shingles on top, and the boards were gray just like the tool shed with the falling roof.

"We're here, Roni. You awake?" Mom stopped the motor and flashed another serious stare my way. "Wait a minute before you get your sister out."

Mom slammed the car door shut, and a golden light flicked on from inside the old diner house.

"Are you ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa Bebop?" I whispered into the back seat. The golden light shined into Roni's wide eyes, and she nodded.

Suddenly, the door on the screened-in porch opened and closed with a thud.

“Who’s out there?” I heard an old man’s scratchy voice, but couldn’t see his face. He was just a tall, skinny shadow standing on the dark porch.

“You gonna’ answer me?” he said.

Mom stood outside our car, almost frozen in place. “Rondalea Jean. Your eldest daughter?”

Her voice was weird. She made her name sound like it had a million E’s in it. RondalEEEE JEEEn. And she sounded nervous.

The tall, skinny man reached to pull a light cord dangling over his head, and the porch became the same golden color as inside the house. He wore striped denim overalls with a handkerchief hanging out of his chest pocket. The cap on his head read “Jimmy’s Garage.” His wide forehead and pointy chin made his face look like an upside-down triangle. His wiry eyebrows framed squinty eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he was mad or having trouble seeing Mom outside.

“RondalEEEE JEEEn?” He repeated it with the same million E’s. His scratchy voice was kind of scary.

Mom cleared her throat.

“Father, it’s your daughter," she said in her weird, nervous voice. "I’ve brought Sapphire and Roni. You know, my girls?”

An old woman opened the door from inside the house. She stood next to the tall man on the porch. She was about two feet taller shorter than him.

“Ronna Jean?” The woman stuttered on the R. Her voice wasn’t as loud as Grandpa Bebop’s, and she didn't add all the extra E’s. She sounded a little like the ladies at the nail parlors where Mom got her manicures; the ladies who had trouble saying their "Rs" because they were from Vietnam.

Everything about the woman was round. Her cheeks were round, her stomach was round, and her chestnut brown hair was twisted into a round cinnamon roll on top of her round head.

Mom raised her right hand up. She made a fist and shook it back and forth and made a gesture with her thumb, pointer finger and pinky. Then she stuck her thumb to her foreheadchin and fanned out her fingers.

The round woman smiled.

Mom motioned for me and Roni to get out of the car. Once we were outside, Mom walked over and put her arm around me and grabbed hold of Roni’s hand.
“Sapphie,” Mom said, stroking my shoulder. "Your Grandma Bebop is hearing-impaired. Do you know what that means?”

Mom moved her hands back and forth as she spoke to me. Grandpa Bebop watched Mom’s hands as if they were sharing a top-secret message.

“Her ears don’t work right,” I answered.

Mom flashed me a stare that meant to be quiet.

“Nothin’ wrong with being deaf.” Grandpa Bebop opened the porch door and waved his arm at us.

###

Lip Reader - The Synopsis

2008-07-05T16:16:00.010-05:00

Rea Traylor secretly wants to break free of the confines of marriage and motherhood. Husband Danny's conventional ways and modest income as a police officer in early-1980s Colorado cause growing resentment for his free-spirited wife. The couple has two young daughters: wise-beyond-her-years Sapphie and Roni, an introverted thumb-sucker. After inventing a story to Sapphie, their older daughter, about Dan having an affair, Rea flees with her children to an impoverished town in western Oklahoma where Rea’s estranged parents and siblings live.

Sapphie Traylor has never before met her mother’s family and is jolted by their eccentricities: Grandpa Bebop is an unpaid pastor to an ultra-conservative congregation and moonlights as a mechanic; Grandma has an eighth grade education and is too meek to confront her husband’s stern religious beliefs; the grown Bebop children live in trailers parked next to their parents’ run-down house that used to be a café; nearly everyone in the family has some degree of deafness.

Once Sapphie learns surprising truths about her family, she has the clues she needs to understand them and the mystery behind their hearing loss.

Click here to read an excerpt from Lip Reader, a novel by Shanna Groves.