IN 2012, I received a Lifetime Achievement Award at the annual conference of the California Educators of the Deaf. Awards and honors are always nice, but far more rewarding for me has been the opportunity to interact with and advise hundreds of deaf and hard of hearing students over the years. Watching these talented and dedicated young men and women grow into the people they were meant to be and seeing how much they have to contribute to our world has been one of the great joys of my life. My desire to guide and teach was born in the classrooms and dormitories at CID, thanks to the example and encouragement of several wonderful teachers, housemothers, and others. I hope I have continued this fine tradition in the years since.
The smartest decision I ever made had little to do with my choice of profession, however. It was asking Anne Keenan Ogden to be my wife. She is a wonderful, open, and honest communicator—and my best friend. I have been married to the love of my life for nearly forty years.
I cherish many other relationships as well. Although my parents, David, and Jonathan are gone, I keep in close touch with Dunbar and Annegret, and their growing, extended families. I also stay in contact with many of my friends from my years at CID, Lincoln, Stonewall, Antioch, Illinois, and of course, Fresno State. Their encouragement and support have blessed me over a lifetime. I am also grateful for many other friends across the country who are valued members of my social circle.
All these relationships have been built on communication. I have enthusiastically studied and practiced the art of communication my entire life. Being deaf has perhaps given me a unique perspective, but successful communication is crucial for everyone: hearing, hard of hearing, and deaf. We cannot thrive without it.
One of the questions people ask me most is, “If someone offered you a pill that allowed you to hear, would you take it?” I have three answers to this question. If you had asked me when I was sixteen, I would have said, “Sure.” At that age, I was searching for new and better ways to grow, to advance, to gain advantages for my life, relationships, and career. I would have grabbed the opportunity to join the hearing population.
Today, if you offered me a pill that gave me the ability to hear for twenty-four hours, I would again happily take it. What fun it would be to hear the lilt of Anne’s voice, to experience a classical symphony, to go to the beach and discover the sound of wind, waves, and birds, to go to Berkeley and hear my brother Dunbar give a lecture to his students at UC Berkeley! After all these years, I think I would be happy to satisfy my curiosity and understand what so many others experience.
If the pill you offered would grant me a lifelong, irreversible change to be hearing, however, my answer would be “No, thank you.” I’ve lived a long time and worked hard to get where I am. If I could hear, I would have to start over, learning to recognize unfamiliar noises and sounds. I’m comfortable with who I am and with my personal challenges and issues. I’d rather not trade them in for a new set of issues.
The truth is that I’m grateful for my deafness. I think it strengthened my faith by keeping me humble. I might have otherwise grown arrogant and unwilling to depend on anyone else. It also has given me greater empathy for those who struggle with their own unique challenge in communication. It is a foundational part of who I am. I find it difficult to imagine who I would be or what my life would be like if I were not deaf.
When I look back over the years, I feel the satisfaction of knowing that my deafness is an important part of who I am but certainly not all that I am, and not something that has prevented me from living out my goals and dreams. I hope the words in this book have in some way inspired you to reach for your own goals and dreams and given you new strategies for helping the young deaf people in your life to do the same.