The waves are lapping against the shore, the tide coming in and out. The sky is full of color as the sun begins to set. Not far away stands a square, multi-level building guarded by several palm trees. Across the front, an arch spells out S-A-N-T-A
M-O-N-I-C-A
M-A-L-L.

There I am, walking along in a hurry, thinking of all the many things I need to do and the many things I need to buy. I’m not sure where to get the things I need. I’m walking along looking at this store and that.

“No, not that store.”
”No, not that one either.”
“Not this one.”
“Not that one.”

Suddenly, I saw something amazing that caused me to slow my step and stop in my tracks. Ahead of me stood a tall sculpture of a girl with long hair curled at the end. She wore a square pinafore apron that flowed over her full, wavy skirt. And she stood there with one hand over her mouth, and the other held in the air with that classic expression of curiosity and astonishment.

And smiled because I knew who this was. I knew that story. I loved reading that book. It was Alice In Wonderland. That sand-castle sculpture of the astonished Alice stood massively ahead of me in the mall.

And then, my eye caught the image of a little boy standing breathlessly in front of the sculptures, looking as astonished and awestruck. His wide eyes were filled with curiosity and they fluttered in amazement!

And I was like, “Whoa! That child is just like I was. Full of pictures in his head and full of imagery and imagination.” I could see it and I smiled knowingly.

I watched him turn eagerly to his mother and tap her for her attention and information. His mother stood primly clutching her handbag at her arm, and gave him a polished and polite smile and nod of acknowledgment, but no information.

I looked on puzzled. “But, the information-hungry child is Deaf,” I said to myself. I knew that instinctively as I moved down the escalator toward them. “The boy is Deaf like me.”

I watched the boy grab his mother’s hand and pull her to the next massive figure. He stood in front of it with his mouth agape. There stood a larger, blubbery, striped cat with pointed ears and a big, toothy grin. In his mouth was a long pipe from which a swirl of smoke escaped.

And the boy tapped his mother again, and pointed at the figure, and looked back at her, craving information. Yet, his mother stood primly at his side, still clutching her handbag at her arm, and simply gave him a polished and polite smile, a nod of acknowledgment, and no information.

The boy turned back and looked at the figure, lost in his own wonder.

As I looked on, my heart twisted and ached. I slowly made my way closer, following them along.

Once again, the boy grabbed his mother by the arm and raced to the next figure. In front of him stood a funny little man with one arm arrogantly outstretch in song. The other held the handle of an overly-large teacup with liquid spilling over the edge. And on the sculpture were the words: UN-HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.

Again, the boy tapped his mother and pointed, with a starved look, seeking information. And again, his mother stood primly at his side, clutching her handbag at her arm. And all she did was give him that polished and polite smile, a nod of acknowledgment, and no information. The boy turned back again, looked at the figure, and remained empty, lost in his own wonder.

I saw this scene and clenched my teeth. It tugged so painfully at my heart. I moved closer still while I struggled with my own thoughts.

Again, I watched the boy grab his mother by the arm and race her to the next figure. It was the figure of Alice standing there in her own astonishment and curiosity. And I wondered…..

“Should I go up to this child and explain what this story is all about? Should I give him the information he so desperately craves through gestures and ASL?”

I could see myself bravely walking forward, tapping this child, gently taking him by the shoulders, getting down on his level and feeding him the information he is starved for through ASL.

“YES! That is Alice in Wonderland! Do you know her? It’s the story of a girl who sits down by a tree and falls asleep as she was reading. And in her sleep, she begins to dream that she is falling down a long, dark tunnel, a rabbit hole! Down and down she falls until she gently hits the bottom.”

“Oh, and that one there with the scowl on her face, THAT is the Queen of Hearts! She stands there with her long scepter in the ground, looking mean and nasty, with her big belly protruding underneath her fancy skirt. And next to her is a flamingo-like bird with a fanned tail. She grabs it by the neck, turns it upside-down and uses it as her golf club! The Queen loves to play golf, you see. And she loves to say ‘OFF WITH HER HEAD!’ You gotta be careful with the Queen.”

And I could imagine this child looking at me, his hunger satiated, his thirst for information, quenched.

I moved a bit closer to the boy and his mother, struggling internally about what I should do. I wanted to walk up to this mother and cry out, “WHY?! IT’S CLEAR THAT YOU LOVE YOUR SON, YET WHY WON’T YOU GIVE HIM ALL THE INFORMATION HE CRAVES?! WHY DON’T YOU SIGN WITH HIM AND FREE HIS MIND? HE IS LIKE A SPONGE READY TO ABSORB THE WORLD AROUND HIM! WHY?! I THINK YOU CAN SIGN!”

I continued to struggle with whether or not I should interfere. A part of me understood, this was Her child and Her decision. But another part of me screamed out, “This is My child! Deaf like me. He’s the same as my own Deaf child.”

“But no,” I thought in anguish. “This is Her child. I need to humbly respect Her decision.”

“No, wait! This is My child. He is My people. Access to information and language is his birthright!”

I was so torn

“It’s Her child.”

“It’s My child.”

“Hers…”

“Mine…”

Ultimately, I knew I had to back off. All I could do was look on and send this child my Deaf LOVE. Discouraged and broken hearted, I turned and walked away.

GIVE DEAF BABIES UNDERSTANDING AND LANGUAGE THROUGH ASL!

GIVE DEAF BABIES ALL!

GIVE DEAF BABIES ASL NOW!

GIVE DEAF BABIES ALL THE INFORMATION NOW!

GIVE DEAF BABIES ASL NOW!