Outwitting Deafness Through the Lens of a Camera

Grandmother Stuart had been deaf for twelve yearsshots he proposed to take on our premises.
when I was born, a victim of the 1919 influenzaOn one such occasion, Harry stepped off a trolley at
epidemic. Because she was a widow, unable to fendthe corner stop just as Mother and Grandmother
for herself in a hearing world, she spent six monthsdonned their hats. We were about to set out for
with each daughter. She arrived at our home each fallKaufman's Department Store in center city, a journey
as regularly as the robins deserted Pittsburgh forI always enjoyed.
warmer climes.Harry used deafness to his advantage, as
Since my father was the only one of her twoGrandmother often did. He read lips, but only when
sons-in-law willing and able to make the ruggedhe wanted to. On this occasion, he feigned an inability
300-mile round trip from Pittsburgh to Ritchie County,to understand Mother's explanation that we were on
West Virginia, it fell upon him to set aside severalour way out, no matter how many times she
days each fall and spring for the ritual of deliveringrepeated it. Even as she labored to communicate
Grandmother to the daughter next on her schedule.with him, he unpacked his photographic equipment
The three adults were wedged into the front seat ofand motioned me to follow his directions.
our vintage Chevrolet coupe, Father at the wheel,For the next few hours, he posed me unmercifully.
Mother and Grandmother alternately holding me, whileHe snapped me in the porch swing, leaning on the
the trunks and boxes containing her clothes andrailing, sitting in the wing chair, holding my dolls,
treasures were stacked in the rumble seat.pedaling my tricycle, perched at Grandmother's feet
"I married into a two for one deal," Father laughinglyas she read to me, and biting into an apple.
explained to friends who wondered at his patience.Wearied by Harry's relentless pursuit of the perfect
When guests came to call at our home on Madelinephotograph and the disappointment of missing our
Street in the Carrick neighborhood of Pittsburgh,planned outing, I dissolved into tears. Mother,
Grandmother maintained a perpetual enigmatic smile,defeated, removed her hat and headed for the
her defense against the outside world. She satkitchen to prepare dinner, leaving Grandmother to
quietly, intent on observing their mouths as theyentertain Harry.
conversed with my parents, but although sheSince neither could hear, they shouted questions at
professed to be able to read lips, her claim fareach other. No matter that each was unable to grasp
exceeded her talent. The most commonwhat the other was saying, they communed happily.
communication alternatives were raised voices or"Isn't it a lovely day?" Grandmother asked.
written notes."I didn't get that. Some kind of hay?" Harry replied.
Grandmother's abhorrence of alcohol was one of the"You got some pay? For one of your pictures?"
few topics she volunteered to discuss when guests"No, I don't photograph pitchers, or any kind of still
were present. Like as not, she would lean toward thelife."
nearest visitor, point to Father, and confide, "Ernest"Who's still alive? Your Aunt Elizabeth?"
is a fine person most of the time, but he drinks soAnd so went their noisy, nonsensical exchange until
much root beer I'm surprised he still has his senses."Father arrived home and Mother invited everyone to
The guest always nodded solemnly to acknowledgesit down at the dining table. As always, Harry
Grandmother's effort at conversation, then joined myaccepted graciously, not wishing to refuse mother's
parents in a hearty laugh. Grandmother's deafnesshospitality. He ate heartily, an outward expression of
prevented her from discerning that she was thehis personal satisfaction after a lengthy, vigorous chat
subject of everyone's merriment, so she smiledwith a kindred soul.
broadly to convey her appreciation of their presence.Grandmother and Harry continued their incongruous
The one visitor who elevated her spirits and madeconversation throughout dinner, while Mother and
her feel normal was Harry Lynch, the deaf son of aFather exchanged grins and shushed me each time I
close friend who had provided comfort and wisdomstarted to say something they feared could be
during Grandmother's adjustment to hearing loss.misinterpreted by our guest. After Harry left, Mother
While in his teens, Harry entered Pittsburgh's Deafagreed with Father that the day had its humorous
School to study industrial arts and photography. Aftermoments, despite her dreadful headache from all the
completing his courses, he began a career of sorts,yelling.
exploring the city by trolley and bus armed with hisThe final twist was the prize Harry won for a
trusty camera.photograph he took that day, a shot of me holding
Several times each year, Harry arrived at our housemy Snow White doll and trying desperately to smile
unannounced, his camera loaded with fresh film. In hiswhile tears cascaded down my cheeks.
vest pocket was a lengthy, hand-written agenda of