If a tree falls – mother of deaf daughters shares journey


Excerpt: IF A TREE FALLS: A FAMILY’S QUEST TO HEAR AND BE HEARD (as read by author) One night, in the open span of our living room, Bill twirled Sophia while she held herself in long, graceful arabesque poses—a ballerina spinning around and around. Then, abruptly, she rearranged herself in Bill’s arms, to be face to face with him. “Daddy, do you think I’ll dance like this at my wedding?” “Yes, Sophia, I do.” “But” —she stammered— “do you think any one will love me—I mean, with my hearing aids?” No hint of this before. Her difference. And what it might mean. That night, as I tucked Sophia into bed, I said, “You know, Sophia, there are people in this world who make up reasons not to love others—because of the color of their skin, or their religion, or some other difference between them—but those people are not focused on what matters.” As I was saying all this, I wondered: is this really where I should be heading, into a discussion about social justice and prejudice? Shouldn’t I just hug my girl and ask, with the disbelief I truly felt: “You—who can read any face, who can quiet any baby, who can cause any dog, however hyper, to settle calmly, magically, at your feet? You—whose eyes are rivaled only by Lake Tahoe’s Emerald Bay? Someone not love you? Daddy and I are already buying bolts for the door to keep the hordes away.” But I didn’t change my course. Sophia was telling us that she knew: she knew she had a difference. And she was asking us: would she be OK? Later, in a

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