You Can Only Blame Jameson for So Much

By Barbara Poelle

So I was off visiting Husband and I finally found out what he does!  But then, a delightful Irish Pub in Kentucky later, I woke up the next morning with no memory of the day before, so-- gone again. I also lost the name of my 4^th grade teacher, which is weird that my brain would store that information in the same drawer.  Like what kind of filing system is that?

Wait…MISS SATHER!

Phew! It’s back. Hang on, do I remember what Husband does? Something to do with, I want to say, organic produce. Or maybe kites. It might be kites. But Miss Sather is back in the drawer next to how to tie a square knot, so I got that goin’ for me.

Anyway, on the plane ride back I was seated next to a very good-looking deaf man. He looked like Matt Damon and Patrick Dempsey ran at each other really fast and when they collided they made this dude.  Now, in high school I took immersion sign language through the community college courses, which meant that for 3 nights a week for three hours a night for several months, I sat in a classroom and was only allowed to use sign language to communicate. The first month was wildly frustrating and I actually had tears in my eyes at one point trying to just ask if an assignment was due tomorrow or next week.  But, by the end, I was a sign talkin’ fool, and golly if I didn’t end up using that a few times in everyday life. 

Oh jeez, I just remembered:  for one assignment, our instructor said she would be calling us sometime in the week out of the blue so we could experience a call using a telecommunication device for the deaf. This is a relay service where the call is being connected through a third party who is typing everything I say and then my instructor was reading it and typing back and the caller would relay it.  We were chatting along and then OF COURSE I got stuck in one of those horrific spirals where I said, “No wait, don’t type that, CRAP! Don’t type that I said that and don’t type that I said not to type that- and don’t type that either!” but the relay operator HAS to type everything and then she started giggling wildy. Yes, leave it to me to turn a simple phone call into a frothing orgy of humiliation.  I did not get the best grade on that particular assignment.

By the end of the year, we had become so profficient at non-verbal communication, those three hours had a certain sound deprivation to them and it was truly like doing life without aural intake. But, um, that particular feeling was quickly shattered when one of my classmates forgot that even if the classroom FELT like it was full of the hearing impaired, certain bodily functions trumpeting a blast will unfortunately remind us we are not and, inversely, scare the living crap out of everyone in the room except the instructor who just kept signing, "What happened" over and over as she watched the classroom all jump 3 feet in the air and then laugh hysterically. Of course, I very helpfully signed what happened, but could only manage "backside wind", much to everyone's continued amusement.

That's the day we learned slang.

But, come back with me now to the awful news: because I haven’t used the language in YEARS, I had lost it all and had no way to flirt with Matt Dempsey!!! (Which is how I referred to him when texting Husband that I may run away with my flight-mate. Husband was nonplussed. Like a yak. ) I tried as desperately as I could to think of something witty and fabulous to sign, but all that would have come out was “Popcorn girl pretty, milk thank you!” and then he would’ve switched seats. So he spent the flight chatting with his friend while I spent the flight getting angrier and angrier that I totally lost a language. And not even on account of the Jameson shots in Kentucky! Just because I let those language muscles atrophy.

When we are trying to improve on something, we practice.  That includes physical, mental and practical endeavors. I know that you are already writing your 2000 words for every 2000 words you read, otherwise my wrath would unfold around you like the ashy wings of a giant she-bat. But!  Right now my boss is running a reoccurring monthly auction on ebay for manuscript critiques (I think it is three chapters) and 100% of the proceeds go to organizations such as the Deafness Research Foundation.  You can read about why she chose this and how to get in on the critique action as well as comments from many pleased recipients here.  This is a way to get something as you give something and a guaranteed way to have honest feedback from someone who has been in the business for 30 years. 

Okay, I refuse to ever be that unprepared again. I am off to Google how to sign, “My husband sells kites, but since we are the ones flying, how about some shots?”

Comments

[Carrie]

Ha! Just yesterday I set forth to practice word usage as per the inimitable Janet Reid in a post about a real life Death Kitten. I feel so ahead of the curve right now.

[Carrie]

Wow. Just reread my comment. That sentence is BRUTAL. For my next act, I shall practice writing blog comments.

[Judy5cents]

Were I to sit next to the deaf Matt Damon, the only signs I'd remember are the ones I used when I was a substitute teacher for hearing impaired classes. I'm not sure how I'd be able to work "Share your crayons," "Walk in the hallway" and "Work now, play later" into the conversation, but I'd sure as hell try. I also can sign along to the Boomtown Rats song "I Don't Like Mondays."

But it's a lot better than what I remember of German, which amounts to a single nursery rhyme and the phrase "I'd like to buy a pair of garters."

[Mark Phialas]

Matt Damon is deaf?

[Amy Lindel]

Fortunately, when sitting next to Deaf Matt Damon, you only need to know how to sign, "How d'you like them apples?"

[Jennifer Locke]

Im just sad you didn't take a ninja photo of him with your iphone and text it to me like I did with the hot twins. Hotness like that must be captured to drool over in perpetuity.

[Carla Buckley]

Why. Why, oh why, aren't you writing novels, Barbara?

[barbara]

First of all, Judy5Cents is the awesomest name ever. I want to be called Bpo Buckfifty. And second of all, I laughed and laughed at the image of me repeatedly signing Share Your Crayons hahaha

[barbara]

Because Carla, that bottle of potato vodka isn't going to drink itself now, is it?

[Catherine Karp]

We saw a Matt Damon/Leonardo DiCaprio combo in a movie last weekend. Why are there so many men who look like the spawn of Matt and other movie stars???

Love your posts, Barbara! I've been trying to remember to visit over here on Tuesdays.

[Alli]

I wish I had Matt Dempsey sitting next to me on my plane ride two weeks ago. Instead, I was next to a 3 and 2 year old on a flight from Los Angeles to Melbourne (Australia). And the kids were mine, so I couldn't do much about it. My conversation consisted of "Stop that!" "No, I don't think soggy Cheerios is a good hair gel" and "Get your finger out of your nose". Le sigh...

[Diane Vallere]

I am late visiting today but as always love the post (Amy's comment triggered unexpected extra laughter, too). LOVE your blog. Keep it up!

[SnoutPetter]

Amy Lindel has it half right: if you're sitting next to Matt Damon, all you need to do is unbutton your blouse and sign 'how ya like them apples' and you're good.

Not that I've ever tried such a thing, no sirreee.

[Mark Phialas]

I'm going to have to start flying on planes with pre-arranged seats.