the national theatre of the deaf

Many, many years ago I had the opportunity to attend a performance of the National Theatre of the Deaf. It was interesting that their tour brought them to Salt Lake City at that particular time, because I had just recently read about the group in an article in Smithsonian Magazine. (I have since come to recognize such occurrences as not just merely happenstance, but as signs of forthcoming moments of significance. I'm not sure if this is because I'm prone to wild flights of fancy in my advancing years or just romantic yearnings that have gone unchecked for far too long. Whatever the case, I attribute none of this to wisdom. Truth be told, coincidences are probably just coincidences. But I digress . . . )

The article featured time-exposure photographs of members of the company, signing and dancing in spectacular ways; their movement captured in sweeping brushstrokes of light and fancy. The photos evoked the group's sense of joy and unbridled energy.

When I arrived at the performance hall that evening, as I was taking off my coat to settle into my seat, I momentarily glanced towards the stage. At first I thought somebody was gesticulating at me in a welcoming way. It was a young woman. She had the warmest smile and bright, intelligent eyes. I did not recognize her and realized she was looking past me at somebody several rows behind me. She started to sign. I turned around to look at the recipient of her greeting and saw a young man, now signing back at her. They were carrying on a conversation! Across the crowded theater! I watched the exchange, fascinated. They signed, they smiled, they laughed. After a few moments, others joined in on the conversation from other parts of the theater. Their hands all moved excitedly as they each took their turn in the group discussion. There was a transcendent energy that emanated from all of them, exceeding any that would arise from a normal conversation among the hearing-enabled.

It occurred to me that their communication was more outwardly directed, entailing the use of their hands, their bodies and their eyes to a much larger extent than yours or mine would under similar circumstance. I wondered if there were less misunderstandings among the deaf for exactly this reason. They were committed fully to conveying their thoughts and ideas. We are not so blessed. Our conversations are more measured and guarded, perhaps not intentionally. We are more easily distracted by external factors. Our eyes wander off as we see something of interest in the peripheral corner of our vision, our listening is momentarily disrupted as a strain of familiar music plays in the background. We are much more susceptible to distraction because we can afford to be. This is sadly to our detriment.

As I sat down in my seat, still mesmerized by the conversation going on around me, it occurred to me that in this instance, I was the impaired person. Indeed, all of us who were not part of the world we had come to visit at that concert hall that night were the ones missing out on something wonderful, something magical.