A Slice of Life: My Favorite Aunt

I really think the song "Sisters" (from the movie White Christmas) was written with my mother and my aunt in mind. My mom and aunt are the youngest in a family of six children; both are deaf and both went to the same school in New York City. In this picture, my aunt is standing, looking down lovingly at my mother. They've always been really close.


The school they went to was Lexington School for the Deaf and in those days (the 1930s), the educational philosophy there was oralism (not signing). Not only was signing forbidden, the kids were taught that there was something nasty about it and so my mother and aunt were ashamed about using their hands to communicate. Isn't that sad?

The repressive attitude stayed with my aunt throughout her life. Out in public, her signs were always small and close to her body. She seemed very shy and inhibited but a great spark of humor burned within her.

Some other impressions of my aunt: she loves me a lot, is over protective and bossy (but it's out of love), and she loves to tease and have fun. She wouldn't let me cross the road with my 5year old cousin (I was 15) to buy a sand bucket but she loved playing practical jokes on everyone.

Here is a typical joke of hers: dropping ice down your back. The victim this time is my uncle.

When my brother was 25, he was singing "Happy Birthday to me" as the rest of us serenaded him.

My aunt decided to surprise him just after he blew out the candles.

Just check out the look on her face! Is that someone who enjoys life or what?

For whatever reason, my aunt took a special shine to me. Maybe it's because I am my mother's daughter. She always wanted me to come and stay over with her, my uncle and my cousins. When I was younger, I had a severe case of separation anxiety and so I was always reluctant. One time I finally agreed and she was so excited. She always made a special effort to talk with me...and this was when I didn't know any sign language at all. That's a long story best saved for later.

Once I did learn how to sign, my aunt and I would spend hours just chatting. Now she lives in Georgia-at least part of the year-with the 5 year old who grew up and became a wife and mother herself.

After my uncle died, a lot of the spark went out of my aunt I'm sorry to say. She still has a good sense of humor but it's just not the same. Still, I have very happy memories.

My Parents

This is my mom in her early 20s. She was born in 1930, the youngest of 6 children. My grandmother's friend once told me that my mom was so small, "she could fit right into the palm of my hand." Mom's older sister was born deaf (in 1928) and it turns out, Mom was born hearing impaired. She remembers hearing music and dancing in front of the radio. After a bout with an illness that caused a high fever, Mom couldn't hear anymore.

The youngest brother Gil (born in 1926) was their playmate and acted as the family interpreter. I think they used home signs with their brother. When they were older, my aunt and mother were sent to Lexington School for the Deaf in New York City.

At that time, the prevailing philosophy at Lexington was oral education only--no signing! The teachers and administrators told my grandparents if they used sign language it would inhibit their girls from learning to speak. My mom and aunt learned that there was something "wrong" with sign language--they learned but they had to keep their knowledge private. They'd sign in the bathroom or in other secret places. They developed negative feelings toward it thanks to these hearing idiots in charge of education for the deaf.

Communication was extremely frustrating for them both. At best, a skilled lipreader will pick up only 70% of the message. There are too many words and phrases that look alike on the lips. Mom grew sick of saying "ball ball ball" for hours and hours on end. She felt like she wasn't learning anything and so she dropped out of school when she was 16.

She's basically self taught. She developed a love for reading and so her skills developed that way.

My grandparents and the four brothers never learned to sign fluently. My Uncle John, my godfather, (born in 1922) tried to learn in the early 1980s but by then it was too difficult to pick up.




My dad had a totally different experience. He was born to my Irish immigrant grandparents in 1929, in either Harlem or the Bronx. We always thought he was #5 in a family of 6 but it turns out that there was another child who died. I'm not sure if this child was older or younger than my father.

Coincidentally (or not), the birth order in my father's family was 2 girls followed by 4 boys. In Mom's it was the other way around.

My father was very close to my Uncle Thomas. They were the closest in age and so Tommy acted as the family interpreter. The difference here is that the whole family used home signs to communicate with Dad. There was no shame amongst them and no one to tell them that my dad would never learn to speak.

We don't know why my dad is deaf. He thought it was because he had botched surgery as a child and that the surgeon cut into his neck and damaged a nerve. That's not right but what is the whole story? Not even the hearing members of the family seem to know.

My dad went to the state school for the deaf in upstate New York. They used sign language there and so he developed language early on. He learned to play the French horn! He participated in the school's marching band.

Dad's growing up years were rough. He won't talk about it. I know that his family was poor and that there are a lot of drinkers. Was his upbringing violent? Were there gangsters in his neighborhood? I can only guess. To this day he doesn't talk about it.



My parents met at a group date. They'd brought other dates to go out and when the evening was over, my dad escorted my mom to the train station. They hit it off and he asked her out. My mom thought my dad was so very handsome (and he was).

There were just a couple of stumbling blocks. Although my mom's family weren't especially well off my grandmother had a "pedigree" as long as your arm. It was sort of intimidating. The other bigger issue was of religion. My dad's family was Catholic and my mom's Presbyterian. Luckily my dad wasn't so attached to Catholicism and willingly gave it up to marry my mom.

Eventually any problems sorted themselves out and my parents got married in May 1951.