Yeah, I know it's a whirling dervish for you; for me and Scooty, it's just one more oddity in our commingled pasts...
So we were chatting about Scooty's Dad's missing finger and I reminisced about the day my friend's dad, Dale Devish, lost his hand in a wood splitter. Musta been the summer I was 12? Scotty's face froze. Dale Devish was his father's supervisor at the welding place for years when we were little. He, too, remembers that incident.
It all goes back to when I was about 10, I visited Judson Memorial Baptist Church with my friend Becky. There, I met Arlin Devish, also 10, who happens to be Deaf. Interpreter services were seriously lacking circa the year of our lord 1978, hence nary a signer to be found around this kid; nope, not even his parents (look around, last I heard it was about 10% of Hearing parents with Deaf kids ever learn ASL). So I did! The Devish Family provided transportation for us every Sunday morning. Included me in many family events; made me welcome in their family. Just as I had mastered my abcs and "Jesus Loves Me" Aunt Darla got a job with CSD and was taking ASL classes. I went along. No one said anything about the cutie-patootie 10-year-old who just wanted to sign and obviously had a knack for language. By 16, I was getting paid as an interpreter; far better pay than the $3.35 minimum wage at the time. I never lost contact with these folks, still get a Christmas card when they've got my current address. It was at their church I first encountered homeschoolers - yeah, the stereotypical religious kind, I still got a glimpse of what was possible. When Mitch was sick, I was working for their church. They often included us in their prayers as a congregation. In fact, the morning of the day Mitch died, I was with these wonderful people as we collectively asked God to lead Mitch safely and happily Home again.
Scotty, too, learned to communicate with Arlin via fingerspelling. Their fathers not only worked together, were also great friends. Time spent at their little farm in Crooks. Where I also spent time.
How did we not meet? Boy are Dale and Lois gonna be shocked to discover this connection! It's about time for me to contact them anyway...
So we were chatting about Scooty's Dad's missing finger and I reminisced about the day my friend's dad, Dale Devish, lost his hand in a wood splitter. Musta been the summer I was 12? Scotty's face froze. Dale Devish was his father's supervisor at the welding place for years when we were little. He, too, remembers that incident.
It all goes back to when I was about 10, I visited Judson Memorial Baptist Church with my friend Becky. There, I met Arlin Devish, also 10, who happens to be Deaf. Interpreter services were seriously lacking circa the year of our lord 1978, hence nary a signer to be found around this kid; nope, not even his parents (look around, last I heard it was about 10% of Hearing parents with Deaf kids ever learn ASL). So I did! The Devish Family provided transportation for us every Sunday morning. Included me in many family events; made me welcome in their family. Just as I had mastered my abcs and "Jesus Loves Me" Aunt Darla got a job with CSD and was taking ASL classes. I went along. No one said anything about the cutie-patootie 10-year-old who just wanted to sign and obviously had a knack for language. By 16, I was getting paid as an interpreter; far better pay than the $3.35 minimum wage at the time. I never lost contact with these folks, still get a Christmas card when they've got my current address. It was at their church I first encountered homeschoolers - yeah, the stereotypical religious kind, I still got a glimpse of what was possible. When Mitch was sick, I was working for their church. They often included us in their prayers as a congregation. In fact, the morning of the day Mitch died, I was with these wonderful people as we collectively asked God to lead Mitch safely and happily Home again.
Scotty, too, learned to communicate with Arlin via fingerspelling. Their fathers not only worked together, were also great friends. Time spent at their little farm in Crooks. Where I also spent time.
How did we not meet? Boy are Dale and Lois gonna be shocked to discover this connection! It's about time for me to contact them anyway...
1 comment:
Wow! Cosmic connections just blow my mind!
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