I’m James, the eldest of the Boyd brood. Throughout our childhoods and even today the Boyd kids are routinely asked what it was like growing up with deaf parents. We used to say we didn’t know because we didn’t know any different. On closer examination, however, we all have realized that our upbringing was startlingly different from our friends’ upbringings. During our youth, the four of us adapted to our environment and utilized our senses to pick up on any social cues necessary to survive in the “hearing” world to make up for the lack thereof at home. Sometimes these social cues came too late and some form of public humiliation usually ensued. This is the story of one such occasion.
There are a number of words in the English language that describe sounds or serve as identifiers for sound. Most of you know where I’m going with this. Having deaf parents (“Phil and Syl” to all you frozen sandwiches fans out there) meant that the Boyd children often were not privy to the proper words for certain sounds. Thus, we were forced to: (a) make up our own; or (b) rely on the butchered pronunciation of our aforementioned deaf parents. Phil and Syl will admit that their subpar (I’m mostly picking on Syl here) pronunciation skills are the result of years of wasted sessions with ineffectual speech therapists who were convinced that they could save the world one deaf child at a time. Don’t believe me? Here’s an example. For years we referred to the “foyer” in our home as the “folly” simply because that’s what my parents called it. Who were we as children to question those who had given us life and took care of our most basic needs?!?
Enter the siren, that colorful, rotating device that sits atop most emergency vehicles. Growing up in the ‘hood, we came to regard the frequent blaring of sirens as a nighttime lullaby. As the eldest (I was 5 or 6 at the time), I decided that the proper name for this curious light-emitting device was “woo-woo.” I instinctively knew that because this was an object that emitted sound, my parents could offer no valuable insight on this issue and it was up to me to educate my younger siblings, specifically my not so bright (in my opinion) 3 year old brother, Josh. This new vocabulary word served us well as we interacted in our home; however, that would all change one fateful day.
My world was rocked one sweltering summer day when Josh and I left our non-air-conditioned home with Syl and headed with her to work. That summer, Syl had procured part-time employment at the neighborhood, emphasis on the hood, YMCA. This dilapidated building had a room where members could drop off their impish offspring to be “cared for” by someone else while they exercised. Syl would smile at the unsuspecting parents as they dropped off their screaming little ones, taking the ear-splitting cries with remarkable ease and then placing the upset child amidst a pile of toys and returning, unfazed, to her book du jour. My brother and I passed the time playing with toys and amusing ourselves in various ways (I once got a battery-powered car wrapped in some little girl’s hair and Syl had to cut it out). One toy that we were particularly fond of was an ambulance complete with, you guessed it, woo-woo’s. One day, Josh and I had befriended another boy about our age and we were playing with the aforementioned ambulance when the following exchange occurred:
Josh, with great excitement: I love woo-woo’s!!!
Friend, puzzled: Woo-woo’s?
Josh (looking expectantly at his older brother and replying confidently): Yeah, woo- woo’s!!!.
Fancying myself a bright child, I immediately picked up on my newfound friend’s perplexed response to my brother’s reference to woo-woo’s and quickly concluded that this kid probably had hearing parents and, given our neighborhood, had an accurate name for these flashing things. At that moment I had a decision to make. Do I: (a) defend my brother’s honor and announce flatly that these were in fact woo-woo’s and that any suggestion otherwise would be preposterous . . . or (b) throw my brother under the bus and claim the true English word for woo-woo thereby sparing myself any future embarrassment?!? Here’s how the rest of that exchange went down:
James, to Josh: woo-woo’s?
Friend, to James: Those are sirens.
James, to Josh, with a sarcastic and knowing look to my newfound friend: Yeah dummy, those are sirens!!!
Josh and I never spoke of the incident but we both learned some valuable lessons that day. First, if you want to know the word for something that makes a sound, don’t ask your deaf parents—ask a trusted friend with hearing parents. Second, if you’re going to make a word up, don’t use it in public. Lastly, you must assume your brother will not think twice about throwing you under the bus if he has an opportunity to avoid humiliation at your expense.
Share
There are a number of words in the English language that describe sounds or serve as identifiers for sound. Most of you know where I’m going with this. Having deaf parents (“Phil and Syl” to all you frozen sandwiches fans out there) meant that the Boyd children often were not privy to the proper words for certain sounds. Thus, we were forced to: (a) make up our own; or (b) rely on the butchered pronunciation of our aforementioned deaf parents. Phil and Syl will admit that their subpar (I’m mostly picking on Syl here) pronunciation skills are the result of years of wasted sessions with ineffectual speech therapists who were convinced that they could save the world one deaf child at a time. Don’t believe me? Here’s an example. For years we referred to the “foyer” in our home as the “folly” simply because that’s what my parents called it. Who were we as children to question those who had given us life and took care of our most basic needs?!?
Enter the siren, that colorful, rotating device that sits atop most emergency vehicles. Growing up in the ‘hood, we came to regard the frequent blaring of sirens as a nighttime lullaby. As the eldest (I was 5 or 6 at the time), I decided that the proper name for this curious light-emitting device was “woo-woo.” I instinctively knew that because this was an object that emitted sound, my parents could offer no valuable insight on this issue and it was up to me to educate my younger siblings, specifically my not so bright (in my opinion) 3 year old brother, Josh. This new vocabulary word served us well as we interacted in our home; however, that would all change one fateful day.
My world was rocked one sweltering summer day when Josh and I left our non-air-conditioned home with Syl and headed with her to work. That summer, Syl had procured part-time employment at the neighborhood, emphasis on the hood, YMCA. This dilapidated building had a room where members could drop off their impish offspring to be “cared for” by someone else while they exercised. Syl would smile at the unsuspecting parents as they dropped off their screaming little ones, taking the ear-splitting cries with remarkable ease and then placing the upset child amidst a pile of toys and returning, unfazed, to her book du jour. My brother and I passed the time playing with toys and amusing ourselves in various ways (I once got a battery-powered car wrapped in some little girl’s hair and Syl had to cut it out). One toy that we were particularly fond of was an ambulance complete with, you guessed it, woo-woo’s. One day, Josh and I had befriended another boy about our age and we were playing with the aforementioned ambulance when the following exchange occurred:
Josh, with great excitement: I love woo-woo’s!!!
Friend, puzzled: Woo-woo’s?
Josh (looking expectantly at his older brother and replying confidently): Yeah, woo- woo’s!!!.
Fancying myself a bright child, I immediately picked up on my newfound friend’s perplexed response to my brother’s reference to woo-woo’s and quickly concluded that this kid probably had hearing parents and, given our neighborhood, had an accurate name for these flashing things. At that moment I had a decision to make. Do I: (a) defend my brother’s honor and announce flatly that these were in fact woo-woo’s and that any suggestion otherwise would be preposterous . . . or (b) throw my brother under the bus and claim the true English word for woo-woo thereby sparing myself any future embarrassment?!? Here’s how the rest of that exchange went down:
James, to Josh: woo-woo’s?
Friend, to James: Those are sirens.
James, to Josh, with a sarcastic and knowing look to my newfound friend: Yeah dummy, those are sirens!!!
Josh and I never spoke of the incident but we both learned some valuable lessons that day. First, if you want to know the word for something that makes a sound, don’t ask your deaf parents—ask a trusted friend with hearing parents. Second, if you’re going to make a word up, don’t use it in public. Lastly, you must assume your brother will not think twice about throwing you under the bus if he has an opportunity to avoid humiliation at your expense.
Share
Excellent work, big bro! Stupid Josh!
ReplyDeleteI remember riding in the car with your dad and we would try to change the radio channel to PXY(which none of us could listen to) and he would know because the bass would resound through his seat!
ReplyDeleteGood 'ol 98PXY. I remember. My dad was a crafty one, he was. We were even required to turn down the volume on the tv when the number song came on Sesame street. You know, 1-2-3-4-5 6-7-8-9-10 11-12 while an animated pinball rolled around on screen. Bass wasn't the giveaway in that instance, once again it was Josh bobbing his head to the rhythm while I resisted the urge in order to not have to turn it down and miss the musical stylings of whatever anonymous band came up with that catchy little jingle.
ReplyDelete