As I write this very topical post, we are at the front end of these uncertain times brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic.
No doubt, some out there probably can’t help but wonder if we’re living out the Book of Revelations in real time. I can’t say that thought hasn’t crossed my mind once or twice.
As it happens, I had the pleasure and honor of spending much of my childhood going to a real fundamental Baptist Bible church. You know, like the infamous Baptist Temple1As you may know from such tales as Kandy Karma, Part 1, and Kandy Karma, Parts 2 and 3. from my years living in Springfield, Missouri.
One of my favorite sermon-topics that our beloved Reverend Dr. Bill Dowell, Jr. would periodically preach upon was–you guessed it–the wonderfully optimistic Book of Revelations. I would even mark such events on my calendar so I could be sure to force my mother not to skip out on that service, in case she was tempted to.
I mean, what kid would ever want to miss the chance to have the living ----- scared out of them by the inevitably unstoppable future Jesus pinky-promises is awaiting them?
You know–one guaranteed to feature:
- mass unexplained disappearances of you and/or your loved ones
- nuclear war
- plagues of locust
- being stuck with Kirk Cameron for extended periods of time
- being hunted down and beheaded by the New World Order just because you once said a prayer when you were young and naive
- …and more!
Yes, of course, I’m ----- kidding about enjoying those good ol’ End Times sermons.
Those were perhaps one of the most traumatic and scarring events from my childhood.
But you know what true gift my time at Baptist Temple gave me?
Welp, you’re about to find out…
One of the bright spots of our current situation is, in my humble opinion, the chance to have a deeper appreciation for the skill and sacrifice displayed by fearless sign language interpreters the world over.
So here’s a fun fact for you: thanks to the small deaf population at Baptist Temple, there was enough people interested in learning ASL2American Sign Language that Rose, the woman who would usually sign out the sermons, would offer classes on Sunday evenings before the regular service.
Naturally, the 9-year-old version of me sure surely not to be counted amongst those interested. But guess who was? Yup. My momma.
It doesn’t take a real leap of imagination to realize that I was indubitably going to be along for the ride, whether I wanted to or not.
So though I technically had the opportunity to learn a new and valuable skill, I wasn’t exactly there voluntarily, which made me make for a piss-poor student.
Though I found it hard for me to pay attention, one thing I did pick up on was that Rose would always end the class by signing out a full phrase that included words we had just learned. If none of us students correctly answered what she had just signed, she, as any great teacher, would graciously tell us what the magic phrase was in spoken word.
I also noticed that we would begin the subsequent3The Doctor, if you’re reading, this one is designed especially for you, so you can mispronounce the ----- out of it in your head. You’re welcome. class the same way, giving us a chance to show off the fact that we had done our homework that week.
In a moment of beautiful epiphany, I concocted a truly genius plan: at the end of the next class, I was going to pay close attention to what the phrase was, and then secretly write it down.
Then, at the beginning of the next class, I would impress the ----- out of Rose by nailing her stump-the-student challenge, word-for-word!*
*With the help of a strategically hidden a piece of paper, of course.
After completing Phase 1 of my little plan, I patiently spent the week trying not to think about how glorious my turn as an ASL rockstar was going to be.
Finally, after 7 long days of both agony and anticipation, my moment arrived. Rose signed out her long-ass compound sentence, while I pretended to be…uh, intently listening? Looking? Reading? Not sure what the right wordage is here, so I’m just going to say I feigned “optical concentration.”
I raised my hand with a level of confidence that could only truly be described as “hubris.”
Rose: “Oh, what a delight! It’s a joy to see you take an active role in your learning, young’n. So, what did I just sign?”
Me *casually glancing down at my paper*: “When I go to the store, I like to be sure to buy plenty of apples and oranges!”
No doubt the whole class could tell I was beaming with pride.
Rose:4Okay, so maybe this next line didn’t really happen…we can never really be sure. Also, image source: https://imgur.com/gallery/Ge72e0J
Me: “Huh?”
Rose: “What? Oh. Yeah. Well…I suppose you were close. It was actually ‘I put apples and oranges in the fruit salad I made for the church picnic.’ But at least you picked up on ‘apples’ and ‘oranges.’ Great job.”
Me *under my breath*: “Shit. She went and changed the sentence on me…”
The point of the story is, yes, I cheated. At sign language. In a House of Worship. And failed!
What kind of “genius” thought this was a good plan in the first place, huh?
I honestly and sincerely believe that I should be awarded the award for “Most Deserving of Bill Engvall’s Mockery.”
Come on Bill. Just say it and put me out of my misery:
So, the real point of the story is that I think all y’all should just take a moment of silence5Fuck yes, that pun was intended. for our translators out there. They put their dignity on the line every day to make sure all us our here, hearing or not, get. The. ----- Point.
Here are some of those very heroes that inspired me to share my very own ASL tale:
Greetings from Georgia:
And Salutations from the Netherlands:
…and thank Virginia from Kentucky for speaking for all of us, upon hearing that “Coronavirus party” is a very real, very dumb-ass thing:6Source: https://media.giphy.com/media/IzpjG2rDhmGQ97ntjK/giphy.gif
Oh, and one last thing…bring on the fire and brimstone:
Content created on: 3 & 4 April 2020 (Friday/Saturday)
Footnotes & References:
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