Archive for May, 2009

Low Expectations?

May 29, 2009

After the firestorm involving Deaf Pundit’s ”Let Me Show You Reality!” blog article (now dropped from DR), we’re learning that DP’s article was dropped due to what DR/ DVTV editorship believes to be copyright infringement of Barb DiGiovanni’s video comment.  A blog written by DR editor Jared Evans reminds DR/ DVTV readers that Barb DiGiovanni’s and Amy Cohen Efron’s leadership puts them “out” there, quoting his words here:

“I think everyone needs to remember all the great things that both Amy and Barbara have done for us all. They have dedicated a lot of their personal time and energy as advocates for Deaf people, and especially Deaf children. They both care deeply about the Deaf community and in order to do that, they must be “out” there a lot of the time and speak out.”

There are also a lot of v/bloggers on DR and DVTV, including even those who are considered “unpopular” v/bloggers, who may not fit Jared’s description of  “leaders” but who do care a great deal about the deaf community and about its future nevertheless.

Another quote  from Jared’s post:

“Never forget that they both are humans and should be allowed to make mistakes now and then. They both should not be demonized for making minor mistakes and we must remember that these mistakes does not completely invalidate their hard work they have done nor their dedication to the Deaf community.

…Moreover, they are doing it using the new medium of vlogs, which is still in its infancy and not fully understood so they are blazing a trail when they push the envelope of political vlogging.”

Many DR v/bloggers have been around for at least two years, past infancy stage, and two years is plenty ’nuff time to learn leadership lessons and stop saying ” Who me?! I ain’t misbehavin’!”  How long does it take to realize that, as a leader, one sets an example by matching what he says with what he does.  How many leaders  go around saying, “Do what I say, not what I do?”  Parents are notorious for that line, LOL, but leaders can’t afford to set that kind of example. When followers see a leader do something that doesn’t match what he says, that is called a double message.

If Barb DiGi and Amy Cohen Efron are perceived as leaders in the deaf community, then it’s time for the community itself to expect that their leaders get off their high horses and match their messages with their actions.

Yes, leaders make human mistakes and the more quickly they apologize for them, the more people will realize their leaders are actually human and not some god/ goddess on a pedestal to be worshipped.  When a leader denies her incongruous behavior, red flags go up.  Deaf leaders are responsible for their own actions and shouldn’t expect the deaf community to cover their asses for them (no pun intended).   There’s been a pattern of deaf leaders getting away with behavior they won’t own up to, because the deaf community allows this behavior and protects them.   The same thing repeats with deaf organizations.

Do we have such low expectations of deaf leadership, is that what it is?



Life With Whodunit

May 7, 2009

Start to sigh and yawn, and my ears get nibbled, ugh.

Pull the bedsheets over my head.

Repeat of same nosing under my hands, ugh.

Can’t even get a 10-minute snooze.  I don’t even need an alarm clock.

Start pulling on the clothes, the bra strap gets snapped before I can hook it closed and my underpants gets pulled ’round before I can pull ’em up.

Fight with the damn socks, then the shoes.  The shoes are a real wrassle, especially those with shoelaces.

Make the bed and I no more than turn around, and the bed’s undone…again.

The kleenex from the wastebasket in shreds on the rugs, a chewed tube of hand lotion oozing from several holes on the blankets, more shredded kleenex from a nightstand on the blankets…like some kind of white nest or something.

Put on my hearing aid, and hear loud thumping on the wood floor.

My 2-pound weights for weight-lifting exercises are being thrown around.

Hubby hollers from downstairs, The elephant stomping around up there?!  Me??? yeah, right.

In the time I go to pee and wash my face awake, the earpieces of my new glasses are chewed off and the frame is bent out to the point of no return.

OUTSIDE, you, yeah, YOU!!! *slam of back door*  Boil hot water for my morning tea and hubby’s filtered coffee.  Whew.

*loud tear of howling noise from outside, waking up the neighborhood*  SHADDUP, you!  NO, NO, and what part of NO do you not understand?

More noise, drat.

Open the back door to see the potted plants dug up, dirt churned up in every direction on the back patio.   The back yard already an obstacle course of holes deeper than putt-putt holes.

The rocket is inside before you can say jackrabbit…

…and already there in my favorite chair before I seat my ‘arse.

And on my lap before I get the chance to put the coffeecup down and scald myself instead.

And after wiping myself down with shredded kleenex and before I can even sip my tea,  my face gets slobbered and slicked down.  DOWN, you, yeah, YOU!!!

NO, you do not pull up the (8 x 10′) rug and chew on the damn fringe.  Puts a heavy chair on each corner of the rug.

NO, you do not chew on the remote control.  Bags the remote inside the lounger chair’s pocket.

NO, you do not chew on the sofa pillows.  Throws out the shredded tassels and puts the pillows up high on the piano.

Here now, play with your toys.  Gazillion squeak toys all over and  I trip on them throughout the day.

Hubby kisses me goodbye and goes out the door to work.

Yiiii-ii-i, shot out like a rocket again and down the street before you can say…well, you know by now.

Hubby clenches his teeth and lets out an expletive-loaded tirade as he goes down the street in search.  Neighbors walking their dogs go “tsk, tsk”.

Back in the doghouse (outside).

Couple of hours go by and I prepare lunch.  Open the back door and the rocket is inside before I can even whistle.

While fixing a sandwich I hear furious wanking of some paper, uh-oh.  *spinning my head around, first in one direction, then the other*

Two telephone directories shredded all over the office floor.

The gas meter guy enters the back yard gate to check the meter, and the rocket is ricocheting off furniture and window sills, furiously sounding off for a good thirty minutes.  SHADDUP, you, yeah, YOU!!!

I turn to my freelance job on the computer, and realize a couple of hours gone by and it’s TOO quiet.  Which means trouble.

I go upstairs and find the laundry basket of dirty clothes turned over and the clothes strewn all over the hall floor.

A photo album is shredded.

Go back downstairs.  The morning mail is yesterday’s mail on the doormat.

After another potty outing, the rocket shoots inside with something in her mouth, and I’m thinking, Is that a stick?  Aaaagh, a  steak knife? Where the hell did she find that?

The Artful Dodger game starts, she with the knife handle in her mouth and trying to avoid a muzzle wrassle, and me with a chewbone and trying to avoid getting sliced.  Back and forth and ’round a coffee table several times first, then under the dining room table amongst the chair legs, then ’round the living room furniture and counter-clockwise several times over.

Finally corner the rocket under the coffee table and gingerly remove the knife and do a fast switcheroo with the chewbone before she nips at the knife.

Think I’ve gotten enough exercise…a walk? forget it, girl.

The rocket hasn’t taken a nap yet since she arrived in the house.

I’m thinking,  How much more trash before the day is over?

Dump all the chewing fodder into the kitchen trashbag, draw up the strings, start for the back door without realizing the rocket is just underfoot.

I get to the trashcan just in time to see out of the corner of my eye the rocket speeding down the street…again.

This time I just stand in the front yard and wait.

The rocket shoots off in all directions here and there.

Finally she slunkers to my feet.

Looks at her with folded arms and says, If you don’t behave, you’re going in the trash can yourself.

At which point, she stood stock-still and looked at me with those brown eyes with black Cleopatra eyeliner and a worried frown of black eyebrows.  Then she cocked her head.  Like, Really? You’d do that?


We walk back to the house together.  I sit down in my favorite chair and she WAITS for me to sit first.

And then I pat my lap, and she hops up onto my lap into my arms.  I lever the lounger chair so that the footrest comes up and the seat back goes backward.

I rock the chair gently, and the rocket puts her head on my chest like a baby.

In the evening she greets Poppy at the front door with a tail that waggles her whole body and she jumps up and down on his legs.  Hubby protects his jewels *roll of eyes, ahem*, but he grins at the transformation.

I eyeball with a no-nonsense glare at him and mutter, You’re the one who’s gonna take her out for her walk.

Yup, him and Whodunit.  People walking their dogs oooh-and-aaah over how cute she is.

Cute, my ass.


The dog had been dumped twice at the same dog shelter before we adopted her.

At least she’s housebroken…whew.