I haven't blogged in a while. I don't know why. Yes, I do. I didn't feel like I had anything important to say. Today I do.
Last was an ordinary night. Friends. Dinner. The norm. A fun night, to say the least. As I pulled the car in to the garage, I realized I had forgotten to stop by Walmart and pick up birthday cards for this weekend (3 different birthday celebrations...whew). Matthew was too tired to tag along, or so he said. That sounded like a pretty reasonable excuse, since he's typically in bed by 9 pm (and it was almost 10 pm when we got home). Maybe he feared he would have sudden fits of narcolepsy while strolling through Walmart, maybe he feared the car would turn in to a pumpkin if the clock struck midnight, or maybe it was due to the fact that he hates going anywhere near Walmart with me because I like to meander down each aisle as I shop. So anyway, I let Matthew out of the car, wheeled it in reverse, and sped off to pick out cards.
There were so many to choose from!! Funny ones, ones that played music, some that made no sense at all. I'm pretty sure it took almost an hour to pick out 3 cards. I had to find just the right one for each person!! Then I decided I'd go ahead and get what I needed for the birthday party this weekend, which tacked on an additional 20 minutes or so as I carefully perused each aisle, gathering the food I needed. I probably should have gone back to Walmart today with a list; I felt like I was on a scavenger hunt trying to find the ingredients for corn dip while balancing more things than my hands could carry. It's a good thing Matthew had an excuse to stay home, but a few extra hands would have been nice.
I've always had a fascination with American Sign Language...I watched Mr. Holland's Opus and knew I was meant to be a special teacher of some sort. I'm not sure how I knew I wanted to be a special teacher when I was only 17 years old, but I knew it, with all of my 12th grade knowledge. Allow me to introduce Mr. EJ Penn. He was the first person I met when I enrolled at Paris High School as a 10th grader, he was the counselor. He took me under his wing, and eventually I became his office aide during my junior and senior years. He understood me. He knew me. I wanted to be him, or someone who had the ability and capacity to love others like he did (regardless of where they came from). He helped me identify a school where I could learn American Sign Language and teach it to others. Of course, as plans sometimes do, mine changed. My choices led me to be a Mama (which taught me more about life, love, and responsibility than any college experience ever could). Going to a school out of town to become an ASL teacher wasn't an option any longer, so I became a regular teacher: math and science (because I'm a nerd), and cheer coach (because, ahem, I'm peppy)!!
So, back to last night. Fast forward to the pitch-black parking lot. I wandered across the parking lot in the dark, wondering why I parked so far away from the entrance (but knowing its because my dang OCD causes me to park in the same row, in roughly the same space, every single time I shop). I walked to the car as quickly as I could without looking weird, threw the bags in my car, and immediately locked the doors. Because, HELLO, dark parking lots are super creepy. As I was digging in my purse to get my keys, someone knocked on my window. Rather loudly, I might add. It startled me so badly that I flung my hands in the air, knocking my rear view mirror askew, spilling the contents of my purse, and ripping the USB cable right out of the dashboard (I'm not really sure how it got tangled up in the mix, but it did). I'm sure that was a sight to see, because as I looked out my window to see what the commotion was about, I saw a man standing there, waving and laughing. Cautiously I rolled down my window.
Now, I know what you're probably thinking: Are you stupid???! It's after 11 pm, a strange man just beat the crap out of your car window, and you roll it down? I didn't feel scared, I didn't get a bad vibe from him. So I did it, I rolled the window down. And man, am I glad I did!! I met a man, about my age I would guess, who made me realize how thankful I am for the ability to speak and hear. Something I haven't thought about since the last time I watched Mr. Holland's Opus. He was trying his hardest to speak to me, but I couldn't understand him. At first I thought it was some kind of joke. And then it happened. He signed! He was deaf. That explained my inability to understand him. That explained the horrendously loud knock on my car window.
I learned the ASL alphabet in elementary school and knew a few signs for words. So I was able to say hello and tell him my name. I think he must have gotten excited and thought I was fluent in ASL because he started signing like a maniac! He looked like an air-traffic controller in the parking lot! He was going to town. And I couldn't understand a thing he was signing to me!! It didn't take long before he realized our communication was totally one-sided. So he grabbed his Walmart receipt and began furiously writing. We had a nice little conversation on that Walmart receipt.
As I drove home, I thought about how thankful I was for something as simple as the ability to hear and to speak. It's something I've always taken for granted. I thought about how fortunate I am to be able to hear the sounds I love: the wind when I'm running, my favorite songs on the radio, and Paige's sweet voice. I thought about how lucky I am to be able to speak to other people whenever I want and for them to be able to speak to me in return (which is pretty often...I like to talk to people). I also wondered what kind of parakeet the man had, his receipt listed parakeet food as an item he purchased. Haha!!
I think I have a new appreciation for something I've never noticed the importance of until tonight, until I met someone who didn't have the same ability. What a challenging life he must have! And how brave for him to freely approach other people and reach out in an attempt to communicate.
