Exercise for my Bionic Ear
Yesterday my mom read to me. My dad was sitting at the desk in the corner of our living room, working on a poem. It was just like when I was a little kid. We started with Emily Dickinson and then moved onto Elizabeth Bishop. While I was reading along, all the words were clear in my head. My mom's voice even sounded almost natural. Particularly enjoyable were Bishop's Canadian poems.
Mom read me a story. I had no idea she was going to blind side me with James Baldwin's "Going to Meet the Man," a harrowing and riveting story about a lynching in the south. Mom, whatever happened to the Velveteen Rabbit and Corduroy Bear?
Last night I plugged the iPod into my head, resisting the urge to put in my hearing aid. Careless mechanics hacked away at my brain. But once again a strange thing happened. Somewhere in my head, ever so faintly, I began to hear the song I was listening to. Was I actually hearing it, or was I simply remembering it?
When I was in junior high, my friend Cort and I obsessively listened to UB40's "Red Red Wine." It was one of my first two or three reggae tapes, along with a few Marley albums. I went through my wanting to be black phase when I was twelve or thirteen. I wanted big dreadlocks and a Jamaican accent, but I was just an Iowa kid with a few tie-dye shirts and reggae tapes.
Anyway, I tried out "Red Red Wine" on the iPod, figuring that the only song I'd ever listened to twenty or thirty times in a row must be rattling around up there somewhere. Damn, it was. It's hard to come up with an analogy, but it was the hearing equivalent of seeing a ghost. It was there and it wasn't there. It sent a shiver through my head.
Mom read me a story. I had no idea she was going to blind side me with James Baldwin's "Going to Meet the Man," a harrowing and riveting story about a lynching in the south. Mom, whatever happened to the Velveteen Rabbit and Corduroy Bear?
Last night I plugged the iPod into my head, resisting the urge to put in my hearing aid. Careless mechanics hacked away at my brain. But once again a strange thing happened. Somewhere in my head, ever so faintly, I began to hear the song I was listening to. Was I actually hearing it, or was I simply remembering it?
When I was in junior high, my friend Cort and I obsessively listened to UB40's "Red Red Wine." It was one of my first two or three reggae tapes, along with a few Marley albums. I went through my wanting to be black phase when I was twelve or thirteen. I wanted big dreadlocks and a Jamaican accent, but I was just an Iowa kid with a few tie-dye shirts and reggae tapes.
Anyway, I tried out "Red Red Wine" on the iPod, figuring that the only song I'd ever listened to twenty or thirty times in a row must be rattling around up there somewhere. Damn, it was. It's hard to come up with an analogy, but it was the hearing equivalent of seeing a ghost. It was there and it wasn't there. It sent a shiver through my head.
posted by Franz K at 7:44 PM
2 Comments:
There must be a poem somewhere due to all your new experiences...
You're going to post some??
Franz, I am amazed by your writing - I first read you on AllDeaf, after following the CI thread ... it is so wonderful to finally read something beautifully written by another deaf person.
I wanted to get in touch because I too am getting a cochlear implant in July this year, after many years being deaf. My old blog is here: http://www.blogger.com/profile/10062059046298655709
But I am stuntchic on AllDeaf, you can send me a message on there. I am really keen to know how you are doing now, because I have to make a decision in the next few weeks as to whether or not I go through with the CI.
Biggest decision of my life.
hope to read you again soon.
Cheers,
Crayon
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