Lat Night With George The Lady From The Train Many days I love to go into my restaurant and work the crowd. I love to make sure people are having a good experience, and will go around and pick up plates, or get extra ice, or a refill for their tea.t If I have a gift, it is to communicate with people, and since I can talk a tree as well, I usually take a moment and talk to customers, and look for some commality to begin a conversation. The restaurant was full, and I was actually needed today, so I was doing my job, and I noticed these two lovely ladies who were finishing up their lunch, and I asked them if I could remove their plates. One of the ladies said well thank you, so as I was picking up their plates, I asked them where they were from. Again, this one lady said they were from Salisbury, and they had taken the train down to Ralegh for the weekend. It is amazing how many people take the train to Raleigh these days, rather than fight the traffic on the interestate. I asked the lady how was your trip, and she looked at me like she had known me for years, and told me that she just loved to take the train, because she always meets the most interesting people. I then asked her how many times had she taken the train, and she held up her hand and showed me five fingers. Just as normal a thing as I have ever seen. I am sure that I got one of those looks on my face, Okay, clear on that. As the conversation continued, I could not help but notice that she was very figural with her hands as she talked. I am so used to people doing that because as an antiques dealer, people are always trying to tell me about a chest of drawers they have that belonged to their great grandmother, and its, this big, and this tall. and on and on. But there was something a bit deeper about how she was doing it, and it seemed so completely inate. I found that she started trying to control herself with the hand gestures, and it seemed to pain her that it was so necessary to her to convey her thoughts and feelings. The other lady at the table was not a talker, and she seemed to just stare at me the whole time. Not in a bad way, but just , well, curious. Being used to that as well, I continued the conversation with the other lady I had been speaking with. I was well into a conversation with her, and so I asked her to tell me a bit about herself. I did not want to be probing, but there was just more about her that I wanted to know. She told me she was a retired school teacher, and that her daughter lived in Raleigh now, and she loved to come on the train and visit. My next question was, what did you teach.? All of the sudden she seemed to become almost a different person, and she clinched, and maybe had to regain a pose, and said, I have spent my life teaching blind children, and children that cannot hear. My heart just melted, and I wanted to hug her neck, but things were starting to make sense now. I think I opened a door for her, and the story started flowing. She told me that her Dad was born in an orphanage, and that her grandmother had died in that childbirth. and that he had met her Mom there as well. She looked at me as if I had entered a dark room for her, and all I could think of to do was to continue letting her tell her stroy. She told me that her brother was born after her, and was born deaf. She told me about how she used to try to communicte things like Chrismas, and Santa Claus, and sounds, and music, and feelings, all without knowing sign language. She said she developed her own technique, and that she and her brother were very close. She told me about her childhood being all about the care of her brother, and how he depended on her for about eveything he knew. She told me that her Father was not able to communicate with him, and that her Mom had to work, and that she was the one who had to tell him about the world. She remained very stoic the entire time, and although I was nearly in tears, she was steadfast and so strong in her effort to share with me this story. I told her how meaningful her life had been, and then she told me that it is what drove her to go to college on scholarship and persue educating the deaf and sight impared. Her hands were telling a story, and they were such a part of her life, and the lives of others, and she had spent her entire life trying to explain what was going on in this world, and I was just so completely blown away with what she had given back to education and humanity in her lifetime. Not everybody is born into her situation, and sometimes I believe that people are bought into this world for a reason. This lady was so normal, and so lovely, and like the time I spent with her, she took the time with me to share her story. It never ceases to amaze me who is in the same room with me, and how I end up just listining to what they have to say. It is like food to me, and once people start telling me their story, I just take a breath, and jump on for the ride. I thanked her for sharing her story with me, and she and her wordless freind got up and went on their way. I now am wondering if the other lady who said nothing, was also possibly deaf, and only wanted to be mainstreamed in society just like everyone else. Its so hard to be different, and to search for acceptance, and yearn for the seemingly normal life that others live. The one we sometimes take for granted, and the one that could mean so much to another one of us who may be missing what we take for granted as meaningless. George
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 04:49:40 +0000
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