Today’s theme for Song-Lyric Sunday is Moms. I wanted to share something a little different. I’ve always loved the song, “The Way,” by Fastball. It reminds me of carefree days before kids, when the world was my oyster and the road was paved with gold, at least in my mind. It also reminds me that there are people in the world who never grow up, who never submit to the responsibility of the children they bear. What the couple does in the song is a fleeting fantasy. One I admit to occasionally having. In me, it only lasts a split second. For some…
“The Way” – Fastball
They made up their minds
And they started packing
They left before the sun came up that day
An exit to eternal summer slacking
But where were they going without ever
Knowing the way?
They drank up the wine
And they got to talking
They now had more important things to say
And when the car broke down they started walking
Where were they going without ever
Knowing the way?
[Chorus:]
Anyone can see the road that they walk on
Is paved in gold
And it’s always summer
They’ll never get cold
They’ll never get hungry
They’ll never get old and grey
You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere
They won’t make it home
But they really don’t care
They wanted the highway
They’re happier there today, today
Their children woke up
And they couldn’t find them
They left before the sun came up that day
They just drove off and left it all behind ’em
But where were they going without ever
Knowing the way?
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I was lucky enough to see Pink Floyd live in Toronto, in the summer of 1994. It was an outdoor concert on a beautiful evening; a soft breeze blew and the music was absolutely heart-wrenchingly wonderful. I was about six months pregnant at the time, and the baby, my eldest son, did somersaults to the beat of the bass guitar. This was one of the songs they played.
I dream there will be a day when it’s no longer relevant. In the meantime, there is no better reminder.
Copied and pasted from AZLyrics.com:
“On The Turning Away”
On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won’t understand
“Don’t accept that what’s happening
Is just a case of others’ suffering
Or you’ll find that you’re joining in
The turning away”
It’s a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting it’s shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we’re all alone
In the dream of the proud
On the wings of the night
As the daytime is stirring
Where the speechless unite
In a silent accord
Using words you will find are strange
Mesmerised as they light the flame
Feel the new wind of change
On the wings of the night
No more turning away
From the weak and the weary
No more turning away
From the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
It’s not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there’ll be
No more turning away?
I’ve been to quite a few zoos in my time. The ones I can remember off the top of my head are the London Zoo, the Toronto Zoo, and the African Lion Safari. The link for the latter one is here: http://www.lionsafari.com/ Just looking at their site makes me want to go back. I think I might do that this summer with the kids.
Strangely enough, the thing I remember most about the Toronto Zoo is that, when I went there with my friends when we were in high school, there was a McDonald’s in the park but they didn’t allow straws. Nor did they allow plastic cutlery. I assume it was because people would throw them into the animal enclosures and the animals would choke on them. (Stupid people.) But do you have any idea how hard it is to drink a McDonald’s milkshake without a straw… or a spoon?
Why do stupid people ruin things for everyone else? Do you ever wonder? We just accept the restrictions we have on ourselves – restrictions which we know are in place to protect stupid people and the things stupid people affect. For the life of me, I can’t think of another example, but you know what I mean. If you can think of one, mention it in the comments, would you? Thanks.
What if we had zoos full of stupid people? We could stare at them behind glass enclosures and laugh at the things they do. Maybe they could share the monkey exhibits… We could throw them straws and watch them stick them up their noses. Give them hot coffee to pour on themselves… oh wait. There are warnings on cups.
Actually, we already do this, in a way. We have America’s Funniest Videos.
I’d better stop before I get myself into trouble.
Have you ever noticed that this stream of consciousness thing is kind of like being drunk? You say whatever comes to mind…
In my post yesterday, about how difficult it is for my son, Alex, to play with the neighbourhood children, I mentioned that part of his problem is my fault. Thing is, the other kids tend to play from one side of the street to the other and up and down both sides. Kids, being kids, sometimes run across the street to beat the traffic. If Alex follows them but doesn’t see the car, (and of course he doesn’t hear it) the results are literally the stuff of nightmares for me. The traffic on my street should be going at 40km/h (25mph) but occasionally people speed down it as though they were the only ones on the road. On that account I’ve tried to get the city to put up signs, but they refused, saying they deal only with signs that meet provincial standards.
The signs I’ve seen in this province, in various towns and cities, include “Elderly Persons Crossing,” “Children at Play,” “Turtle Crossing,” and “Duck Crossing.” But they won’t put one up for my Deaf son. There are actually a couple of “Deaf Children at Play,” signs across town, but they won’t put one up here. They told me that perhaps they’ve been there since the guidelines were changed.
As parents, we all have to advocate for our kids, whether for their schooling, the services they need, their health… The list goes on. This is just one of the many I have to deal with. I need to find help, I think.
What have you advocated for on your family’s behalf and succeeded?
One of the hardest things for me to endure, as the mother of a Deaf child, is the exclusion of Alex by the hearing neighbourhood kids. Admittedly, part of it is my fault. Explaining why would be going off on a tangent, however, so I’ll leave that for tomorrow’s post.
Alex does have friends at school, but they live all over the province. Some are in residence on campus, many live miles away. So it’s difficult for him to get together with them outside of school. But like any kid, he sees children his own age outside his own house playing and he wants to join in. There are a couple who will play with him as long as their friends aren’t around – understandable in a way, since once they start discussing what they’re going to do, it’s hard to include Alex in the conversation. But even when they’re alone with Alex, they eventually get frustrated with trying to communicate with him. So they stop playing.
Then there are the kids across the street. He went over to play with them once, but they had no tolerance for him. They complained to one of Alex’s friends that does play with him that he “gives them a headache.” I wonder where they got that phrase from. It’s not often you see a perfectly healthy 7 or 10 year old child with an actual headache. Since that one time, they’ve sent him away and left me to explain to him that they don’t want to play with him. Or worse, they’ve let him stay and made fun of him, thinking he can’t understand. As I’ve mentioned before, most of sign language is body language and facial expression. He understands just fine. Incredibly, I’ve even had one of them accuse him of hitting her so she could use the excuse that he was mean to her. She figured, I suppose, that he would be unable to explain to me what really happened.
It doesn’t seem to matter how much we teach our children tolerance (though the kids and their parents across the street could use a lot more), they will be kids. They have their own interests, which don’t always include being able to play with only minimal communication. It’s a tough issue. One I can’t see a solution for.
I’m writing this short post to extend my warmest thank you to the people at WordPress who got our pingbacks working again after just twelve short days. In fact, I’d like to thank everyone, from the volunteers, to the Happiness Engineers, and all the way up to the developers! I mean honestly, what can be happier than a Happiness Engineer?
Won’t you join me in thanking them? After all, I’m certain that if all of us express our gratitude they’ll hear our collective voice and not change any more of our controls. Maybe they’ll even give us back some of the features they’ve already taken away to “help make our blogging experience better”!
Here’s to the great people at WordPress!!
P.S. Seriously, thanks for the pingbacks. Blogging prompts without them was annoying.
For my Deaf son, Alex, there’s no difference between a spider and a fire alarm. He understands what panic looks like, and he knows when I’m in one, but unless I sign why (which is difficult under the circumstances of real panic), then all he can do is wait until someone explains what the commotion is.
I could, and probably should, install special warning alarms in the house for him. The doorbell (first I’d have to get a doorbell) and the smoke detector are the two most obvious things to alert him of. I haven’t bothered yet because he’s never at home alone. And equipment is expensive. Just an alarm clock that either shakes the bed or lights up (which only works in the dark I’m guessing) …scratch that. I just looked up the cost of one at Walmart and he wants a Spiderman one. They don’t make them. On with a search.
But I digress. There are many circumstances in which a Deaf person can be caught short. Just two examples: alarms in hotels don’t normally exist for the Deaf, and a bomb threat in a shopping mall would leave a Deaf person who was out alone wondering which way to run. We don’t realize how much we rely on our hearing.
Again, another reason for having more people in society who know some sign language. So many things to advocate for, so little time.
My A to Z theme concerns the joys and challenges of being the hearing mother of my Deaf son, Alex. To learn more about his beginnings in life, click here to go to my first A to Z entry.
Though my son, Alex, observes much more than most of us in the family do, there’s at least a quarter, if not half, of what the rest of us perceive that he misses, being Deaf. While we hear things that go on around us without having to see them, (right now there’s a car going by with a rattling trailer on the back, and my other son, Chris, is coughing upstairs in his room) Alex’s world is quiet. He only knows what is in front of his face. I know this, because I often accidentally sneak up on the poor kid and scare him out of his erps.
I think of him in his own little world, not knowing what’s going on around him, and I find it natural that we end up calling him, “Your Majesty.” He’s self-centered in a way that makes sense. And yet he still finds a way to be in tune.
That he has compassion, even though I’m not able to explain to him what compassion means, tells me that teaching by example goes so much further than speaking. Openness begets openness, caring begets caring, and love begets love. This, unfortunately, can also be said for close-mindedness, rejection, and hate. To me, it speaks in volumes about how we all need to behave around our children.
Kindness is as often shown in gestures as it is in words. We can express kind words to one another without meaning them, but the sincerity of a smile cannot be faked. Nor can the act of opening a door, or handing back a lost item that a person doesn’t know he or she has dropped. I’m happy to have not only been able to demonstrate these qualities to my son, but I’m grateful to have been able to expose him to other people who have as well.
My A to Z theme concerns the joys and challenges of being the hearing mother of my Deaf son, Alex. To learn more about his beginnings in life, click here to go to my first A to Z entry.
I remember the first time someone called me using TTY plus Telephone Relay Service. The way it works is, the telephone company has a hearing interpreter with a TTY (teletype) device between the hearing person and the Deaf person. On the Deaf person’s end, they are either watching the interpreter sign on screen, or reading on the device. In between, the interpreter is listening and signing or typing, and on the hearing person’s end, he or she must speak and then say, “Go ahead,” when finished. It’s a complicated, and at first awkward, but effective method of communicating.
I also remember the first time I spoke to a Deaf person through an interpreter face-to-face. Again, awkward. First, I wasn’t sure where to look. When the Deaf person signed to me, I was able to watch and listen to the interpreter at the same time. But when I spoke, the Deaf person watched the interpreter. I wasn’t sure who I should be looking at. I’ve since gotten a bit more used to it. Second, I never know how fast to talk. I get caught up in watching the signs, and when I catch one I know, I realize how far behind the interpreter is, so I slow down. …or is he/she behind? There’s the backwards grammar to take into consideration too.
I didn’t have to deal with any of this until we moved to Ontario and Alex was enrolled in a Deaf school. Appalling anecdote, that was part of what actually led me to move:
It took about a year to finally have a speech and language pathologist visit Alex at school. It was a regular, English-speaking public school in the Province of Quebec. He had a wonderful EA working with him there, by the name of Lise. She was with him all the time. She spent her lunches tube feeding him and playing with him, and she actually came out of town to visit the Deaf school with me before we moved. Lise is hearing, however, and was at about the same level of American Sign Language I. We both knew it wasn’t enough for him to grow, so enter the speech therapist to advise on whether or not the school should fund an interpreter for him. The pathologist’s final assessment, after watching him in class a couple of times was that he couldn’t benefit from an interpreter, because at his current level of ASL, he wouldn’t understand the interpreter.
…
It’s like saying adults shouldn’t speak to hearing toddlers because they won’t understand anyway. How does one learn a language unless they are taught by someone who knows more, and is able to expand their vocabulary by example? And this from a woman whose job it was to teach language!
So we moved.
Since then, I’ve been muddling along, learning from what Alex brings home from school more than anything. We learned together, him by being exposed to ASL daily, and me from being exposed to my son. But we’re slowly getting back to needing an interpreter, and I don’t think it will be long before I have to have one at doctor’s appointments. He can now understand most things that are said in the adult world. At fifteen years of age he is still quite far behind mentally, but he’s a teenager. One of the most difficult things for me is knowing where his actual level of understanding lies. I have to rely on teachers for that. It’s like hosting a foreign student who I gave birth to, sometimes.
My A to Z theme concerns the joys and challenges of being the hearing mother of my Deaf son, Alex. To learn more about his beginnings in life, click here to go to my first A to Z entry.
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