2010 October |

Innocent, and Behind Barbed Wire

I stood in line with all the others, waiting for my turn to go inside the building. Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I fingered the brass disc with the number 43 on it. I was visitor number forty-three that morning. A young woman stood in front of me, holding a sniffling toddler on her hip while she juggled a clear bag filled with diapers and baby food with her other hand. Another son clung to her leg, crying and begging to be held. With a sigh, the mom put the toddler down and picked up the crying child. In an instant, the other one began to cry.

My eyes drifted to the barbed-wire fence that surrounded the perimeter of the corrections facility. This wasn’t the first time I had gone inside a prison. Years ago, I provided advocacy and counseling services to a deaf woman who was convicted of murdering her baby. Once a month, I would go through the usual pat downs and security procedures at the women’s prison and settle in for a two-hour session.

This time, the visit was personal. I was heading inside to visit a friend that I hadn’t seen in twenty five years. Ron and I were friends in high school. We met on the swimming team and swam endless laps after school. In the hallways, we passed each other notes that we wrote instead of paying attention in our classes. The notes turned into letters when Ron joined the Navy and went off to sea. He shared stories of his travels and sent post cards from various stops around the world.

As the years progressed, we lost touch. I forged a new path with my husband and kids and dove into a deaf life with a new community of friends. American Sign Language became a part of my life and my circle of deaf and hard of hearing friends grew. I didn’t forget Ronnie– there was a little part of me that missed the letters and friendship. He was the friend that always offered encouragement and pushed me to set goals and achieve them. I kept a mug that he gave me in high school and moved it from place to place.

I never forgot him. Buried deep in the basement was a box of every note, every letter that he wrote. My husband was always amused that the letters found a home every time we moved, but he understood that it was a part of my high school memories– a fun time in my life that I didn’t want to forget. Ron and I were never boyfriend/girlfriend, but what we had was a special friendship.

So there I was on a Sunday morning, waiting to greet the high school friend who was spending time in prison for a crime he did not commit. A false accusation out of the blue had suddenly spiraled out of control and before Ron knew it, his freedom was taken away. He was a decorated war veteran whose only prior blemish on his record was simply two speeding tickets. As I went through the pat down procedure and headed to the visiting area, I had a bunch of thoughts racing through my head. Would it be awkward? Would we be able to connect again? Would I be able to lipread him?

The moment I saw Ron, it was as if we never paused our friendship. The four hours flew by and we talked about everything– from the nightmare of circumstances that put him behind bars and turned his life upsidedown– to the memories of high school and the fun times. He showed me the American Sign Language he was learning from a fellow inmate’s mom who was an interpreter. All too soon, it was time for me to head back home. Back to a life with the complete freedom to design each day. I’m more painfully aware of the loss of freedom that my friend no longer has. I curse the legal system that allows this to happen.

How is it possible that a truly evil man like Phillip Garrido could walk around free and an innocent man is paying with eight years of his life?

Originally published on the Chicago Moms Blog.

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Happy Birthday to My Girl!

A little over 15 years ago, the ultrasound tech said, “It looks like it’s a girl.”

“Are you SURE?” I asked.

“I’m about 90 percent sure,” he said. “There’s always a little possibility that it’s a boy.” He smiled.

My heart danced. I had always dreamed of a little girl. Pink dresses. A pink bedroom. Barbies, dolls, and a little kitchen set. I couldn’t wait to meet this little one.

“It’s a girl!”

Sure enough, the ultrasound guy got it right.

I painted her room pink. Bought loads of pink dresses and pink outfits. Pink socks. Pink hair bows. Even Barbie had a collection of pink stuff, including pink plastic shoes and a pink purse.

Then one day, she came home from preschool and announced, “I hate pink. And I hate dresses.”

Thunk went my heart.

I did everything I could to cajole her. “Honey, we’re going out to dinner with Grandma and Grandpa, how about you wear your pink sundress? Or the blue one? Or the cute purple one?”

No, no and no!

She went through several years where she never donned a dress. Or anything pink. “I hate pink!” she would remind me. She stopped asking me to braid her hair. She borrowed her brother’s clothes and held her own when roughhousing with them. I resigned myself to the fact that I birthed three boys.

Then she became a tween. Pink was suddenly vogue. I got my little girl back!

And the arguments began.

“That skirt is too short!”

“Those heels are too high!”

“You’re not going out in public wearing that!”

Lauren’s favorite way to pass the time was to grab a gal pal and go shopping. They would try on dresses. For hours. And snap photos of the two of them pouting and posing, pretending to be famous models. I would view the pictures with amusement when they uploaded them to the hard drive.

Today, my little girl has blossomed into a beautiful, amazing… girl. I’m not ready to say “woman” just yet, because every single time I look into her eyes, I see the baby that arrived fifteen years ago.

Happy Birthday, Lauren Marie! I love you!

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Life is Too Short to Pout All the Time

Many years ago, I began writing for a website that produced product reviews and I had to come up with a personal tagline or quote to reflect something about me. Mine was simply: “Life is too short to pout all the time.” That line came to me years ago, when my kids were four- and two-years old, and my youngest had just been born.

As you can imagine, life back then with a four-year old, two-year old and a crying baby included days where the kids would pout and whine. After juggling everyone’s needs, keeping track of who was fed and who needed to be fed, refereeing two fighting toddlers, all this on top of attempting to keep the house in some semblance of order–by the end of the day, I was pouting myself. As soon as the hubby arrived home from work, I whined and unloaded on him. Then one day, after a particularly trying day with the three kids, I said to them, “Come on, guys, life is too short to pout all the time.” We took off for the kitchen and made brownies together. Soon we were all happily chomping away on warm brownies.

I learned a valuable lesson from those younger days with my kids: life is meant to be enjoyed with your family and your friends. The toys on the floor could wait to be picked up, after all, we were busy playing and learning. So what if the house was in shambles– it was more important to connect with my neighbors over a pizza while the kids played together.

There was another lesson to come. One day out of the blue, (that’s usually how it happens, doesn’t it?) my husband learned that his close friend, Tod, was dying. Diagnosed with cancer at Christmastime, he only had a few months to live. We talked about taking a dream trip somewhere together with our families, but Tod was too sick to travel. So we called up a bunch of his friends, piled them all in a van and drove down to see Tod.

We spent a magical weekend together filled with laughter as well as tears. “Remember this? Remember that?” We asked each other, as we relived memories and fun times together.

That night, the snow fell, covering the trees in a glistening white. We had a quiet moment gazing out into the backyard and seeing the moonlight bounce off the snow. Tod’s wife came up to us and simply said, “Thank you for this weekend.” We knew what she meant, because we were all feeling it: happy, sad, connected, and at peace. Just weeks later, Tod passed away. He gave us a gift: a gift of appreciating life, of appreciating family and friends, and the gift of appreciating love.

After Tod died, I reflected on what I wanted to do with my life. How did I want to be remembered when it was my own time to go? I had three deaf and hard of hearing kids that I was raising—what could I do with my knowledge, my skills and my journey? I took on projects, volunteer work and paid work that brought meaning to my life. I have to say that Tod’s death raised a lot of questions inside of me and drove me to appreciate life more. Just weeks after he passed away we made some changes in our lives and did some things that we had been putting off. We quit decorating the house and bought the used boat that we had been talking about for years. We took cheap vacations with other friends. We spent more time up in Michigan visiting my parents and the in-laws.

Of course, I still have some days when things go wrong and I’m about to tear my hair out. I had a day like that not too long ago, grumbling and venting to anyone who would listen. My daughter took one look at me and said…

“Mom, life is too short to pout about this.”

Originally published on Chicago Mom’s Blog, April 2009

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Tags: Inspirational Stuff, Raising Deaf/HH Kids by DeafMom
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Women’s Barefoot Week at the World Barefoot Center

Way back in March, when I first met Judy Myers, she casually mentioned that she was going to organize a Women’s Barefoot Week at the World Barefoot Center this fall. “We never do anything for the ladies in barefooting, so we’re going to have a whole week devoted to us!” she said.

Women’s Barefoot Week is set for November 1-6 and coming up quick! I still haven’t found my ugly hat for the Ugly Hat contest but I know that Joann O’Connor has been madly scouring the flea markets and intends to win.

I’m looking forward to seeing Judy and Joann again and meeting lots of new gals from all over the U.S. Back when I was a teen, I only had the guys to barefoot with on Christie Lake (not that it was a bad thing!) but there’s something about having another gal role model that just does wonders for the soul!

Speaking of guys, we’re going to teach Swampy, Keith St. Onge and David Small how to tap into their female sides all week. They’ll learn to embrace pink nail polish and some lovely women’s wear. Yes, we’ll be sure to get photos.

It won’t just be a week of fluff, we’ll be out on the water working on deep starts, tumble turns, toe holds, backwards– the goal is for every gal to learn something new and have a blast on the water. My goal is to conquer the darn long-line deep start beast that I battled all summer. My other goal is to learn to barefoot with my heels leading the way– that is… if the Master (KSO) determines that I’m ready for it. Judy and Joann, my cheerleading team, have over-ridden KSO’s expertise and have signed me up for some backwards barefooting–starting off on shoes, of course.

The World Barefoot Center is discounting their pro shop items just for the ladies that week. After a day of skiing, we’ll be kicking back with some Barefoot Wine and fun activities. At the end of the week, the gal who is the “Most Improved Barefooter” gets to go home with a pair of Vibram Five Fingers Barefoot Shoes. A big thank you to our sponsors!

We have a few spots left for Women’s Barefoot Week so if you want to join us, come on out! It can be for a day or two or the entire week. Call the World Barefoot Center at 863-877-0039 to reserve your spot on the boat. After all, it will be the only time of the year that Swampy gives out foot massages.

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Aspire–Are You Living Your Life’s Purpose?

The friend notification appeared like so many others. “Kevin Hall wants to be friends on Facebook.”

Kevin Hall? The name wasn’t familiar to me. I went on the internet to find out more. A short time earlier, I connected with Chad Hymas, and discovered that they were good friends. Kevin Hall, I learned, was a business consultant, speaker and the author of Aspire: Discovering Your Purpose Through the Power of Words.

Intrigued, I accepted his friend request and shortly after, Kevin left a comment. “I tried barefooting and ripped off some toenails in the process,” he wrote. Of course, anyone who barefoots captures my attention these days. I began visiting his page on a daily basis, buoyed by the positive quotes and sharing that he put forth.

“Can you tell me more about you?” I asked in a direct message.

Kevin wrote back, “My purpose in life is help others discover and fulfill their purpose. That is the objective of Aspire and we have been receiving some wonderful feedback on it. Please don’t hesitate to let me know how I can serve you. Namasté.”

I don’t often order books since I prefer to use the library, but something inside of me told me to order his book. I asked Kevin what made him reach out to connect with me on Facebook.

“Probably just destiny,” he wrote. “We are all connected Karen and we are all in this together trying to do our best to contribute and make a difference. Excited to hear your thoughts as you read Aspire.”

I brought the book with me on my trip up to Wisconsin to barefoot with Joann O’Connor. There was no time to read, as we spent three days on the water. After working a picnic for ZVRS, I woke up early the next day and decided to read the book and nurse my sore muscles with a hot bath. Hours later, I finally emerged and I knew I was in the middle of a book that I would treasure for a long time.

Kevin wrote the book centered around eleven words. In the foreword by Stephen R. Covey titled “Finding Your Bliss,” he writes:

The more you understand words and the layers within them, the more it helps you understand your path and purpose.

Right after reading the very first chapter, I knew that it was indeed, destiny, that connected me to Kevin Hall. Within the first chapter, I found a word that I wanted to share with my audience at the Family Support Conference which took place yesterday.

“How many of you have heard of the word, ‘Genshai’?” I asked.

Not a single hand went up.

Genshai (pronounced GEN-shy) means simply that you never treat anyone else in a manner that makes them feel small. This includes yourself. Kevin kindly gave me a speech lesson via an interpreter on the videophone so that I could confidently pronounce it during my presentation.

This word struck home with me because growing up, I measured myself against folks with normal hearing– simply because all of my friends and role models were people who could hear. Thus, I felt small in some ways. “If only I had normal hearing, I would do this… or do that…” I thought. That view was occasionally reinforced by others who felt I couldn’t or shouldn’t do certain things because I was lacking the full sense of hearing. In college, I wanted to become a labor and delivery nurse. The counselor that I consulted gave me a hundred reasons why that profession was not right for me: the communication challenges would be too great and it would be hard to find anyone to hire me. What a message! Of course, I felt small after leaving this session and this partly lead me to chose another profession. A few years later, I met deaf doctors, deaf dentists, deaf lawyers… and of course, deaf nurses!

I wanted the professionals, the parents, the deaf and hard of hearing adults in the audience to walk away with this word and incorporate it into everything they do when working with deaf and hard of hearing children. The field is strife with communication wars, short-changed expectations and opposing camps who cannot sit down and connect with one another openly. When you practice Genshai with everyone you meet, your mind is open to new possibilities and your heart listens. You blaze a kinder path in your wake.

After I closed the book, I had to ask myself, “Am I living my life’s purpose?” I know I’m still the process of discovery with my life path. I’ve done some wonderful things, but there’s a sense of so much more ahead– more that I want to experience and share. I’m excited at the possibilities that lie ahead and I’m filled with joy at the things that I’m doing now.

Thank you, Kevin, for reaching out on Facebook.

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Writing for the Chicago Tribune TribLocal

The email came out of the blue. It was titled, “DeafMom Tweets.” It was from Amy Alderman, a staff reporter and producer from the Chicago Tribune TribLocal.

“Dear Karen,” she wrote. “I just wanted to write to say I really enjoy your tweets. By any chance, are you based in the Chicago suburbs? I work as a reporter and producer for the Chicago Tribune’s TribLocal online and print news, and I’m looking for new bloggers for our sites.”

Would I be interested?

I love when new opportunities like that pop up. So I said yes. I was a little scared to take on more work at a time when I was completely overwhelmed, but writing for the Chicago Tribune TribLocal has been fun. I have been writing online and in print for various publications for years, but there’s something about being able to pick up the newspaper on a Thursday morning and see an article in there that I’ve written–well, that just puts a smile on my face.

This week, I wrote about how Facebook and Twitter have brought me many wonderful opportunities to meet people online and face-to-face. I had a blast barefooting with Dan Tanis and Jeff Hoekstra on Cedar Lake: