In the resources folder of the American Sign Language course my spouse and I are taking, several books are recommended, including the memoir A Loss for Words: The Story of Deafness in a Family by Lou Ann Walker. I found Walker’s story to be incredibly engaging and emotional, bringing me to tears of joy and laughter many times. And yet, a young adult, Walker tells new boyfriends her parents are deaf with a sense of shame, announcing their situation apologetically, or even delaying telling her new partner. Her feelings, to me, are a reflection of the time period. Walker was born in the 1950s, and the memoir was published in 1986. Perceptions of disability and D/deaf people have changed.
Walker’s parents were born in the late 1920s in Indiana. Both became profoundly deaf before the age of two, and because they were born during a time when speaking was an indication of intelligence, both were sent to the Indiana State School for the Deaf where the curriculum emphasized oral skills and lipreading. Walker notes that the school did not teach American Sign Language (ASL), but it was used. Deaf children struggled with the sames lessons year after year because around only 25% of people can truly lip read, and feeling a speaking person’s throat while they talk in order to feel their vocal cords doesn’t do much in the way of learning to talk.
A Loss for Words is a personal story, but it educates as well. Walker’s grandparents on both sides felt shame that they had deaf children, as if blame would fall on their families. The grandparents never learned ASL, erecting an unfortunate wall between them and their children. Although people thought deafness meant low intelligence, Walker’s parents didn’t pay attention to what their parents told them about their limitations:
[My mom’s] parents wanted her to move back with them; she knew nothing about writing checks, looking for apartments, getting utilities hooked up, but there weren’t any jobs for her in Fillmore, no deaf people, not much to do. She decided to strike out on her own. Soon she was living in an Indianapolis apartment with a deaf girlfriend who’d been a classmate. Mom was working as a keypunch operator for a company that made construction equipment.
Much like any high school graduate, Walker’s mother has a lot to learn and friends with whom she can start her independent life. I felt that whenever Walker attempted to show how things could be challenging for a deaf person, I mentally countered with the challenges faced by most people of the same age.
A big part of A Loss for Words is Walker puzzling out her relationship to her parents, deafness, and society. Walker acknowledges that most children of deaf parents feel guilty. Perhaps they have not been good children, or didn’t do enough to help their parents, or didn’t support deaf people enough, or didn’t work hard enough to change societal perceptions of deaf people. Despite having a full-time job, Walker spends much of her free time interpreting in prisons, court rooms, psychological evaluations, and colleges. She also spends time with a deaf street gang to write a piece on them for a magazine. Her time is torn in so many directions that she begins to break down:
I had been the medium for such insane words a thousand times in my life. And before that I had been the patient explainer to my parents and for my parents. I had explained and recounted and been the voice. A robot of words and sounds. And suddenly I wanted to scream. For the first time in my life, I wanted to cry out. This isn’t me. It’s [the person for whom Walker is interpreting]! I have talked and listened and heard and there is no me!
Through her sessions interpreting from ASL to English, Walker emphasizes that they are two different languages. Many people think ASL is a direct translation from English; however, again educating her readers, Walker explains that the grammar and syntax of ASL is different from English, and that “A conservative survey once showed that the average deaf high school graduate has a third-grade reading ability. Writing is more difficult to judge.” Frequently, Walker is asked to correct her parents’ writing to make it sound less like a non-native English speaker. However, Walker’s mother “didn’t just want to copy it over; she wanted to learn from the exercise.”
While I thought A Loss for Words might be a memoir about the heavy responsibility of being a hearing child of deaf parents, Walker never makes her parents sound helpless or like they’re using their children. When her parents want to make a phone call, they always sign, ” ‘Please, would you mind to…?’ and they’d make the request.” Or, when Walker swears she hears a man talking to himself outside her bedroom window night after night when she’s just a little girl, she runs to wake her father:
He’d search the whole yard, then walk to the end of the driveway, flashing the small beam up and down the street. He never once refused to go out, nor did he ever tell me I was making it up, but after I’d awakened him several times that third summer, I decided it must all be in my head.
I’ve never read another memoir in which the parents are so unfailingly kind, modeling the kind of behavior we wish to see in society. Walker recounts zero examples of her parents hitting her (and this was the 50s!) or signing cruel remarks after she or her sisters have behaved badly. If anything, they are understanding to a fault.
After Walker moves away from Indiana to the east coast for college, she’s separated from her parents. When she calls, her younger sisters interpret what Walker says on the phone to the parents and then says what they sign back. One call in particular had me in tears:
“Looahn.” It was Mom’s breathy voice. Kay had put the receiver to her mouth. Then I heard more shuffling. Mom had backed away as if scared, then looked questioningly at Kay. “Can she hear me?” Mom signed to Kay.
“Yes,” Kay urged her. “Go on.”
“Looahn,” Mom said again. “I lahv you.” She paused to breathe. “I mees you.”
Then Dad. I could hear his preparatory swallow.
“My sweet daughter. I lahv you. Your Daddee,” he said.
It wasn’t even how sweet and tentative the parents were on the phone that got to me, it’s that they are always like this with their children.
And of course parents are funny, and Walker’s are no different. For a time, Walker attempts piano and fails. Then, she tries violin and is terrible. Likely because her parents can’t hear music, Walker doesn’t want to invite them to an upcoming orchestra concert, but the band leader insists parents be there. Unfortunately, while she’s playing in the concert, Walker can see her father has fallen asleep. His head is drooping on his chest, which is such a dad thing to do. But, what if he starts snoring and her mom can’t hear to wake him?? Oh, the humiliation! This is one of those examples in which I felt both hearing and deaf fathers would be embarrassing to a middle school child if they fell asleep. In an effort to praise her daughter, Walker’s mother signs, “I liked watching all the bows go back and forth together.”
A Loss for Words was a wonderful memoir that I couldn’t put down, capturing Lou Ann Walker’s parents’ personalities, their home life, and society’s reactions to people with hearing loss.