Awareness comes through unfortunate means

Resslin' Around, by Casey Ressler

When the nine miners in Pennsylvania were being pulled from the mine, the talking heads on the cable television news networks were describing it as one of the greatest moments of the last generation.

They were right, and most Americans were tuned in to the live broadcasts, hanging on every word the newscasters said.

But not deaf Americans.

They could see what was going on, but were forced to rely on lip reading to "hear" what was being described.

One local deaf man said he changed from station to station, trying to find a closed caption broadcast. He couldn't find a single one.

"Deaf people have a way of sensing things. I sensed the governor of Pennsylvania was a good, good man from the way he acted, but I really would have liked to hear what he had to say," the man said.

Closed caption broadcasts are something many of us don't think twice about. But that's because we don't need them. If you did, you would be paying more attention to it, and that's the sad part -- until people need something, they rarely care.

A few years ago, my wife lost the hearing in one ear overnight. Sudden Hearing Loss Syndrome is what the specialists said. She still can hear fine out of one ear -- but that hasn't stopped us from learning all about her condition, and for thinking about deafness in a whole new way.

Just the other day in Wal-Mart, I noticed a young woman in a wheelchair. She was with her small child, shopping for food. Her daughter couldn't reach the top shelf, and neither could she.

Five people walked right by her, ignoring her as she asked for help. I couldn't believe their ignorance to her situation, and their indifference.

I walked over and got her what she needed from the shelf. She said thanks, and went on her way.

I couldn't help but think what her life is like, every day. Just like the deaf man, she has to rely on others to help her with things that I take for granted every single day. Suddenly, the day-to-day grind of work and the pressure of deadlines didn't mean all that much to me.

The tear in the deaf man's eye showed me how much he wanted to hear -- or at least read -- the broadcast that night, a broadcast I tuned into and didn't think twice about. The sincere thanks from the woman in the wheelchair showed me how grateful she was for that item on the top shelf -- an item I grabbed without even a thought.

It's a sad commentary of life when it takes something like that to make you realize how precious life really is. I'm just as guilty, too.

People deemed "disabled" have remarkable abilities. Often, though, we don't see past their one disability -- being confined to a wheelchair, or not being able to hear, for example. We see that, and we label them accordingly, which is unfortunate.

They have a resolve for life that is commendable, and enviable. It's just too bad that it takes ignorance on the part of some to truly see that determination.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor.