A different silence

Yesterday, my aunt Mary and uncle Martin took David, Timothy, and me to a living history exhibit put on by an organization for the deaf and hearing impaired. It was a silent exhibit, with everyone using writing, gestures, and sign language to communicate. People even got thrown in "jail" for talking or making noises.

There were several sections to the exhibit, and you could visit each section, perform a task, and then get a checkmark from that section. If you then visited all the sections, you could become a "member" of the historical village. Well, I didn't get to do that because David took my paper outwide with Timothy, but I still had an interesting time walking around to the different sections with my aunt, trying to understand. There was a kitchen, museum, library, classroom, judge, boutique, snack bar, fishing area, quilting circle, and storytime area.

I found it frustrating, since I don't understand sign language and certainly can't communicate with it. I can sign the alphabet and my name and a few other things, but generally, I've lost almost all the ASL I used to know. I knew I was doing something wrong when I realised suddenly during a signed lecture that I was watching the lecturer's face instead of her hands. I've never been good at reading lips, and she was showing facial expressions, but still, I had to concentrate on watching her signs to try and fathom anything. My biggest frustration was that since I was at the exhibit, it was almost assumed that I knew ASL, so others would try to communicate with me through signing. But I didn't understand a thing!

It was just like being in Nigeria, surrounded by people who couldn't speak English.

But it was fascinating to watch everyone else actually communicating in ASL. I've never had much exposure to the hearing impaired, so although I learned some sign language in grade school, I've never used it and now have forgotten almost everything. I realised yesterday the different kinds of silence there are. Just because a person is deaf, for example, doesn't mean they can't make any sound! I knew that already, but it really became vivid for me yesterday.

It made me truly grateful that I have no hearing difficulties (listening, maybe, but not hearing!), and that I can express myself through tone of voice, musical notes, stressed syllables, volume, pitch, and all the rest. I'm not a big talker, but I'm grateful for the ability to talk. And to hear! This morning at church, I belted out the songs and thought, What on earth would I do with myself if I suddenly went deaf? How could I cope with not being able to hear music?

In addition, it was cool to learn about the deaf community on Martha's Vineyard in the 19th century. It was a neat program. Quiet and neat.