Solly, me, lipreading and Zim

Here’s a Facebook Messenger exchange I had yesterday with Alan Solomon, an old colleague from Chicago journalism (we were both on the Sun-Times before he went to the Tribune as a sportswriter; he’s now freelancing as a globetrotting travel writer).

Solly: Question: When you watch baseball [on TV] and there’s a conference on the mound, have you ever been able to read their lips?

Me: Yes and no. I can catch individual words but not the sense. A lot of lip reading is educated context-guessing, anticipating what will be said. A lipreader well versed in what goes on out on the mound will be able to do much better than me. But now the participants cover their mouths.

Why’d you ask that question anyway? Bar bet?

Solly: I’ve always wondered. The “hiding of faces” is a relatively new phenomenon; it always looks so silly, so I was curious to see if there really is a risk—or if it’s just a bunch of hooey.

Me: It is possible that a skilled lipreader (not necessarily deaf) who’s baseball-savvy enough to know the things that are said on the mound can steal stuff that way.

Solly: With most teams having a “video” coach in the clubhouse now to review close plays and advise managers on whether they should appeal, I suppose they could hire one who lipreads as well.

On the other hand, I know players who don’t want to be tipped off on stuff; Don Zimmer, when he played, was one of them. Having taken a fastball in the head, he feared being told a curveball was coming and leaning into the plate in confident anticipation—and discovering too late that an inside fastball was coming instead. Might be a plot device for you: murder by deliberately wrong tipoff . . .

Me: Hey. Mind if I put this exchange on my blog? Folks will find it interesting. I didn’t know that about Zim.

Solly: Absolutely—use it! Invoice will be sent asap.

The Lipreader's Stare

The other day one of those silly clickbait articles about body language one shouldn’t use in the workplace appeared in my Facebook news feed. It suggested avoiding a steady gaze at another person standing close by, for that might be taken for an attempt at dominance or aggression.

As a lipreading deaf person, I absolutely need to fix a laser stare upon an interlocutor’s face—especially if that person is a stranger—if I am to understand their speech. I’d never thought about it before, but there have been occasions in which folks suddenly squirmed away in apparent discomfort.

And so I decided to survey other deaf lipreaders on my Facebook friend list to see if they have encountered this phenomenon. Their responses ranged from the brief and flippant to the thoughtful and concerned, and I suspect say much about the kind of people they are.

Think of this blogpost as my lightweight contribution to scientific research into deafness.

L.G.: If the person is talking, no problem. If he isn't talking, it can feel weird.

K.G.P.: Yup, I've had people tell me that it makes them uneasy at first. I think I've subconsciously developed techniques to break that gaze now and then . . . "Oh look, a kite!"

E.R.: that's a tough one—I have not experienced that but have often wondered if my "stare" makes people uncomfortable. I try to look away while people are talking every now and then.

C.G.: I've wondered the same. Turn your head and you miss a key phrase or change in topic. Give a friendly approachable smile and then you find out their mother just died. There's the continuous effort to keep up with the content through watching the other person's body language and facial expressions. That probably does make some people uncomfortable to be scrutinized like that, but there’s not much we can do about that.

D.M.: Oh, that's a great question. I have been told that it makes some people feel listened to! Of course when I hear that I just let it ride, as I am listening but not in the way they probably mean. I imagine that taken to the other extreme it might be unsettling to some. Too, culture plays a role.

C.L.: It depends on the person's cultural background. Many farm workers won't look at me directly when I'm asking questions. Some women, especially in Muslim countries, shy from looking at a male's face for fear of inviting unwelcome advances. Most people get it that I am deaf and need to look at facial expressions and lips and realize that I'm not seeking a personal attachment. It shouldn't be more than “seven seconds too long" a gaze, as Dave Davis once said of his gaydar abilities.

C.W.: I stare at the mouth and I've had people start picking their teeth. I'm usually up front about my hearing loss and tell people I lipread, so I think that makes it okay. People who have bad teeth or cleft lips or whatever are the ones who are most uncomfortable with it, I think.

A.Z.R.: I've always wondered if people find it strange that I'm looking more at their mouth than their eyes. Are they trying to make eye contact, while I'm busy looking a few inches below their eyes?

R.C.: I agree I've made people uncomfortable. Men in particular think I'm overly interested in them. Such big egos they have! Never know what color eyes they have, but always know the state of their teeth.

B.K.: I shift my gaze constantly between the lips, eyes, eyebrows, expression, hand movements, boobs, etc., when someone's talking to me, so it's not like I'm staring.

J.W.: Yes. If the person doesn't know you, you have to be aware of the effect you may have and, if necessary, explain.

F.C.: I think most people find it refreshing—someone is actually paying attention to them! Other people take it as interested and that person may squirm away if they feel uncomfortable about your supposed interest in them (either sexual or romantic).

K.K.: Well, for starters, deaf/hard of hearing folks use eye contact especially for lipreading. It is common courtesy to face someone when communicating. As for staring, we do this at school as non-verbal cues to students to stop  disruptive behavior.  I have always found this useful as students don't like to stand out when called on verbally.

C.P.: It may be disconcerting but with a quick explanation of the need to lipread it's not an issue.

J.S.: Sure. And fuck 'em. 🙂

D.P.G.: That lipreading stare can be so powerful and bring out unexpected responses from increasing the gabbing to freaking out. Over time I’ve tended to not look directly at the person, or to say “No” when asked if I can lipread. It’s a superpower I prefer not to have.

A.D.H.:  I’ve had more positive than negative experiences with regard to my lipreading gaze. It’s due in part to culture—Israelis and Catalans both tend to gaze directly at a person’s face—so my lipreading gaze does not come across as unusual.

S.A.P.:  I would have said that it’s not staring if you blink every so often.

M.T.L.: Yes, I'm totally a lipreader and I've encountered many people who are unnerved by my need to watch them speak so intently, and I also tend to want to get as close as I can (though I don't feel I invade their space) to read their lips.

I've had people physically move away from me because they were unnerved by my concentration on their speech.

I see it more as their problem than mine.  One particular memorable incident was a new neighbor of mine in Atlanta.  I had met Peyton, the wife of the couple, but one day, Dave, her husband, came over and knocked on my door and introduced himself (can't remember what he wanted, I think to borrow a tool or something) and I invited him in and started talking to him standing in the entryway.  He was very unnerved by my standing close and watching his every word, and he physically backed up and got a strange look on his face.  Again, I don't think I was invasive of his personal space at all.

After I got to know both of these wonderful people and Dave realized I couldn't hear (I don't think I told him that day), we talked about our first meeting and how was weirded out by me.  We became good friends.

Most others who have done the same were not people I came to know well.

Now, if someone does shy away for this reason, I tell them right away that I'm reading their lips and it takes concentration and explain, "That's why I'm watching you so intently."

T.S.: I think  you are right about other people feeling uncomfortable with the gaze of lipreading, though with some qualification. I think this feels more threatening when coming from a man. And in fact if one is a woman looking at a man to lipread him, it is sometimes misinterpreted as being interested in him. Which leads to a whole different can of worms.

L.S. I agree. People aren't used to such contact, esp. these days with technology.

T.E.F.: Make sure you have cow eyes.

Under the table again

Last May 9 I wrote about a slightly sticky situation Trooper and I ran into at the North Country Cafe (a k a Lynn's Cafe) in Ontonagon, Mich, where Debby and I summer.

There was a small kerfuffle not over his suitability as a service dog to enter the restaurant, but involving where he should lie down. Beside me, I asked, so that I could keep an eye on him. Under the table, the waitstaff said, where I couldn't watch him. (The law doesn't say who decides—just that a service dog must be either under the table or beside the handler.)

I went along with the server, intending to try again at some future time, because Lynn's serves good small-town cafe cuisine.

Today I went back, this time putting Trooper beside me and halfway under the table where I could spot him if he decided to creep away after a fallen tidbit. (He still does that sometimes.)

No problem for me—or for the server (who, however, was a different one). I enjoyed my meal while easily keeping a weather eye on Trooper. Everybody seemed happy.

Except for a sharp-faced little old lady who peeled off from her group of little old ladies as they prepared to leave and swept up to my table like a hen after a beetle.

"I'm from Missouri," she said with a severe expression, but I missed the rest of her sentence.

"I'm deaf," I said, "but read lips. What was that again?"

"I'm visiting from St. Louis," she said, "and down there dogs are not allowed in restaurants." She enunciated very slowly and clearly (and probably loudly, although I couldn't really tell).

"He's a service dog," I said, as pleasantly as I could. "A service dog for the deaf."

"Oh!" she said, brightening. "That's fine, then!"

She turned to her party. "That's a service dog," she said. "It's all right if he's here."

Nods all around, and the ladies swept out of Lynn's in a chorus of smiles.

I had to chuckle.

Victory!

Trooper peed in the box this morning! Finally!

Feels like winning Olympic gold.

In an obscure sport, to be sure.

See the June 22 entry below for the context.

(August 14: He repeated the feat last night . . . and again this morning. That's three medals. Phelps, you're a has-been.)

Fending off the well-meaning

Sometimes my ideas aren't so brilliant.

Often, when someone comes up and asks to interact with Trooper, my service dog for the deaf, I'll say "No, please don't pet, he's a service dog and he's working."

This doesn't always do the job. Sometimes people don't understand my deaf speech. Sometimes (especially the elderly) they're rather deaf themselves and just don't hear what I say.

And so for such events I came up with the business card at right. I didn't want to use the words "No" or "Don't" because some folks take offense at blunt and negative statements. "Should avoid distractions" ought to do the trick, don't you think?

Then the other day a sweet old lady stopped at my table in a local coffee shop and bent down over Trooper. Before she could touch him I plucked the card from a pocket on his service-dog vest and handed it to her. She took it, examined it carefully, beamed and said, "How sweet!"—then stooped and petted him.

Either she was illiterate or a couple of Milk-Bones short of a feeding, I thought. Then I realized that the gentle language might not have triggered proper understanding in her elderly mind.

And so I am going to revise and simplify the message:

WORKING SERVICE DOG

PLEASE DO NOT PET

Maybe that will do the job, in-your-face as it is.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the business card is the scheme at right. I figure it'll please curious folks who either can't hear me or understand my speech. It might even persuade hostile business owners that Trooper is a legitimate service dog.

Of course it may suggest to people that I'm just not capable of conversation. That's a phenomenon every deaf person must deal with.

Goes with the territory.

A small step forward

Until now I had read of no actual cases in which someone was arrested and charged under a criminal complaint with violating federal law by refusing access to a service dog team.

Most such unhappy encounters are handled quietly by the U.S. Justice Department and state civil rights offices, and are usually settled with the offending party agreeing to be educated on the law as well as to sin no more.

Now a criminal penny has at last dropped.

According to the Associated Press, a Uber driver in Orlando, Florida, was arrested and charged the other day for two misdemeanor infractions. He allegedly refused service to a blind man and his guide dog, and in driving away jostled the blind man with his car. (No injuries reported.)

The two charges: Violating Florida civil rights laws about service animals—and battery.

I doubt that the cops would have charged the driver with refusing service (both a federal and state offense) if he hadn't bumped the blind person. Usually they inform offending parties of ADA responsibilities and if they agree to change their ways, the matter is dropped and nobody's nose is out of joint.

Whether this case will actually go to court remains to be seen. If that happens, I'll wager the magistrate will drop the service-dog case if the Uberman shows contrition. I don't know about the battery charge. If the driver persuades the judge that he didn't intend to strike the blind man, he may get off with probation and a small fine.

That won't be a bad thing at all. The best outcome of these newsmaking cases, in my opinion, is widespread publicity that educates businesses and everyone else about ADA protections for people with disabilities. Including stories like this one out of Orlando.

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork!

Taking a short week's cruise in the Caribbean is a lot more complicated when traveling with a service dog. For Trooper, I must obtain not only routine paperwork but also items specific to almost every port of call—even if we'll be ashore there only six to eight hours.

We start with an international animal health certificate issued by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Fortunately, my vet in Evanston is USDA-certified and knows how to fill it out and get it stamped by the USDA. There are boxes for immunizations and the like. The vet knows about my trip and will give Trooper a checkup and provide the certificate a week or so before we go.

Before then, I must contact the animal services departments of each island on my own.

The first port of call will be Grand Turk in the Turks and Caicos Islands. They're very tough on furry visitors, for the islands are rabies-free and want to keep it that way. As well as the international health certificate, they require that the animal be microchipped (Trooper already is) and that it undergo expensive blood titer tests for possible rabies. If the animal's paperwork is not in order, it must quickly depart—or be euthanized.

I've decided we'll  stay aboard ship instead of jumping through those hoops and maybe having to deal with difficult Turks and Caicos officials, as attested to by several comments on pet travel Web sites.

Next comes San Juan in Puerto Rico, a U.S. commonwealth. The international health certificate is sufficient for us to go ashore. No titer test necessary.

Entering Sint Maarten is a little more complex. It requires that the health certificate and evidence of vaccination be sent to its agriculture department well before arrival and an import permit issued for the animal. No charge, though.

Half Moon Cay is wholly owned by Holland-America, the cruise line we're taking, but we still need a Bahamas import permit, which costs $15 and expires ten days after it is issued.

The voyage itself is only a week long, but Trooper and I have to leave Chicago on the train exactly 11 days before the permit expires. I'm not sure we'll land at Half Moon Cay unless I'm able to persuade the Bahamians to issue a one-day extension.

All this gives me new respect for human members of service dog teams who take long international cruises to dozens of countries and have to deal with all that paperwork and officialdom.