Warning: Some readers may find this blog a bit too gushy and mushy for their taste.
This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving, a holiday based on the English harvest festival of pumpkins and hymns. The earliest North American Thanksgiving was celebrated by the explorer Martin Frobisher in 1578 when he and his men managed to escape the fate of becoming human icebergs, as they searched, with Inuit guides, for the elusive Northwest Passage. Today, Canadians don’t do Thanksgiving school pageants with little Frobisher and Inuit dress-ups, but we are grateful for the day off and we love our turkey or ham dinners.
Last night’s big dinner was exactly what I was trying to work off when I hit the pavement this afternoon for a Nordic pole walk. An energetic walk on a misty day not only works off calories, but the imagination gets a brisk walk around the block, too.
“What am I, as a hard of hearing person, thankful for today?”
Well, I’m grateful that I didn’t accidentally turn off the stove while cooking the ham for 15 guests – like I did with the Easter turkey. And I’m also grateful that I could hear the stove timer ding-dingy-dinging to let me know the ham was done. Not an easy thing to hear above a crowd that was yapping loudly over wine and appetizers.
What else? People with hearing loss should direct a prayer of thanks to the chain of geniuses (genii? Genies?) who invented captioning, all kinds: open, closed and real-time for movies, TV, and the computer. Captioning is the key to communication access; without it, we are cut off, bereft of comprehension of what’s playing out on the screen.
Earlier today, the Hearing Husband and I went to see a captioned showing of Captain Phillips at a theatre some distance from our home. I can’t tell you if it was good or not, because I don’t know – the CC system wasn’t working. We got a refund and courtesy passes for a future film (with captioning access), but we were peeved at the loss of a good chunk of precious holiday time. At home, I wrote the theatre an advocacy letter about how this technical and customer service glitch might be handled better next time, perhaps through daily system checks. But back to using my nice words – I’m still grateful for the ongoing advancements in captioning technology.
What else? I’m lucky to have my sight that opens up sounds that I can’t fully understand with my ears. Speech in personal, live conversations is not captioned – there are no little cartoon clouds above a person’s head to clarify what’s being said. But when we speechread by focusing on a person’s face, we get meaning from every facial tic, blink of an eye, quiver of a lip, and flare of a nostril. If we stop for a moment to think about it, this human fusion of sight and sound cues into comprehension is as amazing as modern technology – even when we sometimes get it wrong.
And how can we not be thankful when family members, immersed in their pumpkin pie and free-for-all conversation at the dinner table, suddenly remember that we might not be enjoying ourselves as much as they are. Or maybe they’re just responding to an attention-getting wave that says, “Hey! Help me out, I’m not getting this!” However it occurs to them, what’s important is that they face us when they speak and even, God bless ‘em, relieve us of the responsibility of saying to the rest of the gang, “OK, can we cut down on the babble a bit?” (Of course, this didn’t happen last night, but maybe next time….)
As I poled along the road, I pulled up my jacket hood to protect my hearing aids from the mist. Some say that in-the-ear aids won’t be harmed by light drizzle or fog, but I prefer to err on the side of caution. As I walked, my hood grated loudly against my ears, and my hearing aids protested with occasional feedback. But it was the lesser of two evils at the time – I’m just happy that my aids are alive and well. To me (and probably to all hearing aid and cochlear implant users), my devices are ‘more precious than gold’ and I take better care of them than of any other possession.
I do not apologize for my joy in hearing. If I had less hearing – or none at all – I would still be grateful for many of the same things. And however challenging, frustrating and imperfect some of my hearing moments might be, I will never stop being thankful for the family, technology and professional hearing support that give me the best gift of all – the ability to communicate and connect.
From one pole walker to another — this is a great article.. and ways to be thankful…
To which I add a hearty “Amen”!
Thanks once again Gael for a well worded and spot-on piece.
Very well put thank you! Americans will get to do this in a few short weeks.