I've been thinking a lot about hearing lately. In fact, much more than I ever wanted to think about hearing. The reason this all came about is a mishearing I made a couple weeks ago that resulted in quite an important person in one of my stories ending up with a new first name. I'm not sure why but in my scrambled ear canal Rusty became Wesley. Most of the time I get the person I'm interviewing to spell his or her name, which narrows some of the room for error. This time I didn't.
Now this isn't the first time my ears have got me in trouble, but always before it was because I heard too much and didn't always have the good sense to keep it to myself. I hasten to add this was well before my newspaper days.
Now though, it is rather crucial that I both hear and repeat correctly. A few years ago the doctor advised that I might need a hearing aid at some point in the near future. A likelihood that filled me with dread and I'm not sure why. But I have a few theories.
First of all, I hate anything in my ears. I don't use iPods or anything else that requires ear buds. During the few times I've used them on long flights to ease the boredom I've almost ground a hole in my ear fiddling with them.
The second reason is one I hate to admit and that is vanity. I don't want to admit I'm getting old and most of my pieces and parts are slowly but surely wearing out and perhaps most of all I don't want to admit I have a hearing problem.
On my mom's side of our family, hearing troubles are common. One of my aunts ended up having to take early retirement because the amplification on her hearing aids made the background noise of her elementary classes too much to bear. That was a crying shame because she taught special needs kids and did a marvelous job. It was the ultimate in irony that her special need made her unable to cater to their special needs.
I believe that hearing disabilities are the least understood or appreciated of all physical limitations. Unless a person is wearing a visible hearing aid there is no way to tell he or she has a problem. I remember people speaking to my mom from behind and because she didn't hear them the speaker would either think she was stupid or stuck up for not answering. More than once her feelings were hurt, a problem that plagued her from the time she was a little girl growing up in the Great Depression.
I haven't quite decided what to do about my ears yet. However I was glad to be able to hear Coast Reporter's name called out for general excellence in our category at the provincial community newspaper awards Saturday night in Richmond.
Thank you to all the wonderful people out there who read and comment on our weekly efforts. And congratulations to the great people who call Coast Reporter their work home. Well done all of you!
