Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing, fresh from the Word
--Cat Stevens

I've always liked this song. It was sung at my mom's funeral. I was telling someone at work today about my mom. I was telling her how much I text with my kids--and that we chat on line too. She was commenting on all the technologies we have at our fingertips today. I told her that my mom was born deaf and learned to be an excellent lip-reader. It would have been neat if she'd lived long enough to be able to chat online with people.

When we were growing up, we kids learned how to act as "interpreters" for her when people called on the telephone. We'd answer the phone for her and as they talked to us, we'd silently lip-read their message to my mom as they spoke to us--almost simultaneously. And then my mom would respond to us and we'd repeat her words back to whomever had called.

I remember one time my sister and I played a joke on my mom (who had a great sense of humor) some time around Mother's Day. My sister and I had our own phone line upstairs. One day I got on the upstairs phone and called my parents' phone downstairs. My sister answered the phone for my mom and then excitedly called my mom to the phone telling her that a local radio station was calling. She told her they were asking about the oddest gift she ever gave anyone, knowing that my mom would probably start telling about how she always gives her kids socks or underwear as a joke in among the other Christmas presents. Only in relaying this, my sister couldn't keep a straight face. My mom figured us out and chased us off.

My mom wasn't completely deaf. She could hear sounds but couldn't identify them. I remember being in the car with her one nice summer day. She was driving and I had the radio on. My arm was hanging out the window and I started hitting the side of the car to the beat of the song. She nearly slammed on the brakes asking, "What's that noise?" It took me a while to realize she was hearing me thump the side of the car. Her hearing loss was largely in the higher pitches and we kids instinctively figured out that if we dropped our voices very, very low, it was easier to get her attention.

She said when she was little, the family doctor told my grandmother to enroll my mother in the local school for the mentally retarded. My grandmother refused, saying there was nothing wrong with her daughter's intelligence. She insisted on enrolling her in the local public school where my mother saw a speech therapist and was taught to lip-read. She graduated from high school and went on to the University of Minnesota where she graduated with a degree in Home Economics. She worked for years at the Selwyn Jewelry Company, a wholesale company in downtown Minneapolis. She also taught bridge classes to people for years through community ed. She never let her disability get in the way. Once I moved out of the house, I sometimes wished I could have called her on the phone more often, but I never really thought about it much. There was too much more to her to let hr deafness define her. During the last few weeks of my mom's life, my sister video taped an interview with her. I put it away for several years after my mom died. When I finally watched it, I was really astounded at her speech. After not hearing it for several years, it was apparent how pronounced her differences in speech were.

I notice, however, when I work with students, I am much more attuned to speech patterns and kids who need to be referred to the speech therapist. Probably because of my mom. I've worked with kids on all points of the continuum--those who needed assistance with simple single letter pronunciation to those who had significant hearing loss. The little guy with the severe hearing loss used to croon Kenny Chesney and Uncle Cracker songs to me all the time. I absolutely loved having him in my math class! At the end of the year he gave me two crystals. I'm not sure why. I still have them in my office. A blue one and a white one.

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven...