Originally appeared in Silent News, November 2001.

Take a look at David H. Pierce’s vita, and you see a six-page list of his accomplishments and experience. His film and television credits alone span four pages in small print. Say David Pierce, and people respond, “Oh yeah, TV guy, good with cameras.”

Few people know that Pierce is a part-time magician as well as “film guy.”

He likes to have Sunday BBQs.

He’s an avid comic book collector.

Oh yes, he also has 2 dogs, 12 cats, 2 iguanas, 2 parakeets, 5 crested pigeons, and 30-plus white doves.

Say what?

“I’m a dove breeder and make many of the doves available for sale to professional magicians to use in their shows,” Pierce explains.

Pierce, who lives next door to a large-animal veterinarian in Texas country, has recently relaunched Davideo Productions, a broadcast television and film production and consulting firm. “When Kaleidoscope Network, Inc., closed its doors in November 2000, I decided to relaunch Davideo Productions as a sole proprietorship,” Pierce says. Originally established with David B. Strom in 1986 when the two were students at the Rochester Institute of Technology in New York, the company was dissolved in 1988 when Pierce moved to Los Angeles to work with a Davideo Productions client, Silent Network.

After two years, Silent Network was sold to Texas investors, who then founded the America’s Disability Channel, a completely accessible channel with open captions on every program. ADC then became Kaleidoscope Television Network, and expanded to a 24-hour accessible channel. “I was often referred to as a dinosaur,” Pierce says of his longevity with the highly stressful environment back then. He was responsible for a multitude of duties, including programming, production, satellite operations, captioning, traffic, library management, and equipment/facility management and design.

With his expertise, the relaunch of Davideo only seemed natural. And the firm is already off to a good start.

“Many of my projects over the past year were industry consultations. I’m producing short client videos and a 13-part television series, negotiating literary rights for a screenplay, and helping with a book to be published next year,” Pierce says.

Pierce was born in Niagara Falls, N.Y., and grew up near Buffalo. He attended a public school and then learned sign language at 19 as a student at the National Technical Institute for the Deaf, though he knew some basic signs thanks to a fellow bus rider who attended the St. Mary’s School for the Deaf. “My experiences were good, but tough at times, as my profound deafness was a challenge in a speaking environment with no sign language,” Pierce remembers. “I survived it well, although I would recommend the use of sign language for future students in that setting as not everyone is a good lipreader.”

A recent showcase of Pierce’s work was seen at the Houston Deaf Film Festival (Silent News, October 2001). “Marine Escape to Port Aransas, Texas,” a nine-minute experimental film, is a humorous look at two friends’ fishing trips. “It was shot and edited ‘cinema verite’ style, and got a lot of good response to it.” He is working with the Chicago Institute for the Moving Image, which will be hosting the Cinema for the Deaf Festival in Chicago in March 2002.

Pierce is also credited with inventing an editing technique, known as the Pierce Method for Deaf Editors, for cutting video to audio by editors with hearing losses.

Over the years, Pierce has seen quite a few changes in his profession. “During the Silent Network’s heyday, seeing Deaf people on television was commonplace and now, today, it is almost non-existent. There is just a smattering of small roles played by Deaf/hard of hearing actors in mainstream television programming.”

With Davideo Productions, Pierce hopes to alleviate this lacking visibility. “There are many production companies operating successfully in today’s media centric market. However, there are only a few that have the ability to cater to our specialized population sector, namely the Deaf and hard of hearing community,” Pierce says. “Davideo maintains the necessary credibility and accuracy in its productions. So I consider this one of my niches, but my experience and resources are broad enough to service everyone.”

So, in between his self-proclaimed “mouth-watering” Sunday BBQs, part-time magician career, book reading, film collecting, and taking care of his animals, how will Pierce stay focused on the goals of Davideo?

“While Deaf cultural programming has significantly decreased, the amount of closed captioning has increased…the use of video over the Internet, especially video interpreting and conferencing, seems to be catching on very quickly,” Pierce explains. “In spite…I see an increasing desire to have the choice of being able to watch Deaf programming on television on a regular basis.. So, don’t worry, I’m not retiring anytime soon.”

Copyrighted material. This article may not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, November 2001.

Usually, the opposing school is very conscious of the fact that the North Carolina School for the Deaf (NCSD) football team has two female players on the team.

“My players were very aware of the girls, ” says Ronnie Taylor of the South Carolina School for the Deaf and Blind in Spartanburg. “But when playing on the field, my team players had a hard time remembering that they were girls, not boys.”

Saprina David, a freshman, and Ebony Miller, a sophomore, are the school’s first female football players in its history. David, 14, is 5′ and 115 pounds. Miller is 15, 5’1″ and 180 pounds.

“These two girls are actually in the midst of the gridiron battling on every play as both are starters on our team,” NCSD coach and athletic director Mark Burke says. “If not for these two girls, we could actually have had  to cancel the season when we were hit with injuries as three have been lost for the season. It’s important to note that these girls did not join the team to allow us to have a team. They joined because they wanted to play football.”

Aside from giving the girls separate locker rooms, not much has been done to accommodate their gender differences. Burke says, “The girls are not given any slack in football just because they are girls, and they don’t ask to be given the slack, either.”

“When I was in the fifth grade, I became interested in football on television,” Saprina says. Her cousin taught her about the sport. “We still play whenever I go home on weekends. After about a year, I made it a goal to join the NCSD high school football team.”

When Burke came to the school in 1999, Miller asked him if she could play, since the previous coach had denied her request. “To me if anyone says they want to play football, they obviously have the desire for it,” Burke rationalizes.

The girls are excellent players. David, who plays wingback, wide receiver, safety and defensive linebacker, has had 14 receptions for 319 yards in the seven games she has played to date. She is currently second in receiving yardages and number of receptions on the team, in addition to having three touchdown catches with a long of 69 yards versus Kentucky. She also averages two to three tackles per game. “When [David] caught the ball and ran into the zone, I didn’t think she was a girl until she was in the zone for the touchdown…then I realized she was actually a girl!” Taylor says.

Miller is a starter on both the offense line and the defense line. Joining the team late in the season, she has recorded 17 tackles with a game high of ten versus South Carolina.

Burke is proud of his girls and the impact they have had upon the NCSD team.

“These two girls are doing damage to the opponents.”

Copyrighted material. This article may not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, November 2001.

Julius H. Wiggins died Oct. 13 at a nursing home in Mount Laurel, N.J., due to complications stemming from congestive heart failure. He was 73.

Wiggins founded Silent News, a newspaper devoted to the deaf and hard of hearing community, in 1969. “My father had a dream, and that was to bring deaf and hard of hearing people together through the newspaper,” daughter Adele Wiggins says. “He lived to see it continue for nearly 34 years, and that was a proud achievement for him.”

Julius was born in Toronto, Canada, on Sept. 19, 1928, and attended the Belleville School for the Deaf in Belleville, Ontario, until the school became an army base during World War II. He was transferred to a vocational school in Toronto, where his skills at tailoring were noticed by his father. His father thought Julius might want to try apprenticing with fur, and Julius learned the trade rapidly. He decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a furrier. He worked in Toronto until he was 20, then moved to New York City.

Back in those days, it was difficult for a deaf person to be taken seriously by employers. As described in his autobiography No Sound, Julius experienced years of frustration and oppression as many employers doubted his ability to be a top furrier. However, he proved them all wrong and worked his way up into the Manhattan fur district with his expertise and skills.

Julius met Harriet Berkowitz at a deaf event in New York City. They married on March 23, 1952, and had three kids and 49 years of marriage.

In 1968, as the fur market once again fell for the second time, Julius found himself unemployed. He decided to try and request help from his vocational rehabilitation counselor in seeking appropriate employment. The vocational rehabilitation counselor referred Julius to a job in the postal service. Julius was a creative man and according to Adele, the job was difficult for him with its repetitious and tedious tasks. “Unfortunately, some of his supervisors gave him a hard time and teased him about his deafness,” Adele remembers.

That following summer, as the family traveled to California for a deaf convention, they stopped over in Las Vegas to visit relatives. As the family shopped, Julius saw a sign that said, “Who, What, When, Where and Why,” and was suddenly inspired with an idea. The family returned to their Fair Lawn, N.J., home, and Julius immediately arranged a meeting. Deaf leaders were invited, and the idea of having a newspaper serving the deaf and hard of hearing community was discussed.

“This was the time before portable TTYs and computers were available to the deaf community,” Adele says. “The North Jersey deaf community said he couldn’t do it. Some had tried, but Dad wouldn’t listen to the naysayers.”

Julius, who his family describes as a very determined and strong-willed man, proceeded to convince the deaf leaders to buy shares of Silent Press, which printed Silent News. In exchange for printing the first year’s issues of Silent News and No Sound, he would provide the publisher’s wife with a full-length white ermine mink coat.

The first issue was pasted together in the basement of the Wiggins family’s home. All the Wiggins kids were recruited and put to work for the first year’s issues. The newspaper is about to enter its 34th year, and continues to thrive with a solid subscriber base. The newspaper was run by the late Walter Schulman for the first 20 years.

Julius loved to travel, and he with his wife Harriet traveled all of Europe and Israel. He believed that high visibility was key to gathering information for the newspaper, so he and Harriet attended many conventions and gatherings. The newspaper moved back to New Jersey after several years in Rochester, N.Y. Due to Julius’s failing health, the newspaper was sold to Adele, who then became executive director in 1996.

Julius leaves behind many people. His three kids have all grown up to be successful adults. Adele is currently the executive director and owner of Silent News in Mount Laurel, N.J.; Morton Wiggins is the president of 33rd St. Records, a division of Tower Records, in California; and Shimon Wiggins is a rabbi in the Atlanta, Ga., area. Combined, they gave Julius and Harriet ten grandchildren, and plenty of memories.

He also was very active in deaf organizations, including the Temple Beth Or of the Deaf in Queens, N.Y., the Philadelphia Hebrew Association of the Deaf, New York Hebrew Association of the Deaf, Brooklyn Hebrew Society of the Deaf, and a member of the National Association of the Deaf and the National Fraternal Society of the Deaf.

“Julius and Harriet both were business role models for me to look up when I started my business in 1982,” Bob Harris of Harris Communications in Minnesota, says. “When I see the name Silent News anywhere, the first picture that pops up in my mind is always Julius and Harriet.”

Others remembers the same sense of awe upon meeting Julius. “I looked up to him and sought his ideas and guidance during the time I served as editor in chief of Silent News. He was unfailingly supportive and positive about the future of the newspaper. He was an inspiration to me and countless others,” says Betty Broecker.

“My father was always a man ahead of his time, and this is evident in his life experiences,” says Adele. “I am honored to have been able to carry on his determined dreams of bringing the deaf community together through the power of news.”

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that contributions be made to the Julius Wiggins fund, which will go towards the creation of a youth section in Silent News. Contributions may be mailed to The Julius Wiggins Fund, c/o Silent News, 135 Gaither Drive Suite F, Mount Laurel, NJ 08054.

Copyrighted material. This article may not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, November 2001.

A sense of patriotism was apparent in every corner of the National Softball Association of the Deaf (NSAD) tournament held Sept. 28-30 in New Orleans, La. Players, fans, and referees braved the looming sense of danger from the Sept. 11 attacks as they flew to New Orleans through major security checks.

With most of the teams displaying the American flag on their shirts or caps, and an American flag waving over the fields, 26 men, 11 women, and 6 co-ed teams for a total of 43 participated in the double-elimination tournament.

“I was really impressed with the high-spirited patriotism of the players and fans here at the tournament,” said tournament chairperson Dan Arabie, who credited his committee for the successful tournament.

Teams began arriving on Wednesday night with registration on Thursday. NSAD meetings were held all day on Thursday, and for nightlife, people flocked to the nearby infamous Bourbon Street. “Bourbon Street was a good place to hang out after all day at the softball fields,” Leon Parker of Georgia said. “Everything was happening on that street, but it’s not just Bourbon Street that made the New Orleans experience. There was the French Quarter, the waterfront, French Market, and so many other places!”

Games were played on a four-field playing ground, with a concession stand and tables providing respite for hungry fans and tired players. The co-ed games were played on a separate field, just a short distance down the road from the main field. Over 1,300 people attended, including 700 players and 500 fans. Twelve deaf referees were also part of the tournament.

Favorites Minnepaul, Austin, and Carolina were quickly reconsidered as Minnepaul lost to Atlanta in a first-round upset. Minnepaul again understood the sour taste of defeat when they lost to Tampa Bay in the loser’s bracket, ending their quest for the championship at 2-2.

One of the drawbacks to the tournament seemed to be the sand on the infield. Player after player tripped as they ran home. Due to the climate of New Orleans, the sand was quite soft, making it difficult to have solid footing at time.

The tournament cultivated with two exciting championship finales. The Tampa Bay women’s team battled the experienced and stronger Colorado Springs team, giving Colorado the championship title (see stories of both championships on page 4). The aging Chicago team – although with its share of youngsters – just would not quit, battling the Carolina team in their fourth and fifth games straight without a break. Carolina clinched the title with a tie-breaking, and winning, run in extra innings.

“Many games were close games. I think we had at least five games forced into extra innings,” Vance Rewolinski, NSAD Commissioner said. “The championship game was very close – the closest we’ve had since 1988 in Dallas.”

After the nerve-wracking final game, awards were handed out. Michelle Malcolm of the Colorado Springs team won Most Valuable Player for the women’s tournament, and the men’s MVP went to Carolina’s Justin Moor. Coaches of the tournament were Betty Bonni of Colorado and Terry DeBoer of Chicago Catholic Ephpheta.

There was no ballroom event held that night, because as a planning committee member said, “We all knew everyone would prefer to go to Bourbon Street and celebrate there.”

“All the teams seemed to really enjoy themselves. There were no complaints,” Rewolinski said.

“I would love to go to future NSAD tournaments. I had such a great time, meeting many new and old faces,” Parker, who was attending his first NSAD tournament, said.

The next tournament will be held in Chicago on Sept. 12-14, 2002. For more information, visit www.nsad.org.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, October 2001.

“I feel it’s destroyed my life. I feel miserable and hurt, I liked my job,” Ken Cruise, Jr. says. “I feel intimidated by hearing people.”

Cruise, 39, was employed as a media technology specialist, covering three elementary schools in the Silver Lake Regional District in Plymouth County, Mass. He was hired on a probationary basis in January 2000 with the understanding that he would become a permanent employee after one school term. He was told he was “doing a good job” and given a $1, 400 salary raise in October 2000.

Cruise then was notified that his contract was being terminated on June 12, 2001. Cruise, stunned by this decision, was not given a reason for his termination. He had been given no performance evaluations, nor did he receive any negative feedback.

However, the apparent reason began to soon emerge. A senior teacher at one of the three elementary schools said in an affidavit that she overheard the school principal, Paul Kellogg, say, “sarcastically, words to the effects that it took him too much time to explain to Ken what he wanted done.”

Cruise is deaf, and blind in one eye. He communicates using sign language and lip-reading. When he was first hired, the schools did not initially know he was deaf and blind in one eye, though Paul Squarcia, the school superintendent at the time, had known. In an affidavit dated June 23, 2001, he said, “I was aware that Mr. Cruise was hearing challenged and that he was a lipreader.”

Squarcia retired on Dec. 1, 2000. In the affidavit, he continued, “…just prior to that date, I spoke with a number of school department personnel concerning Mr. Cruise’s work, and they were satisfied with his work.”

The senior teacher said, “In my opinion, based on my direct experiences with Ken, I consider him to be the best technician I ever worked with in the school system.”

Petitions were submitted to the Pembroke School Committee from all three schools protesting Cruise’s “sudden dismissal,” signed by over 70 teachers and staff.

Cruise also found that his position was advertised on May 8, though he was not notified of his dismissal until May 11.

The dismissal has taken its toll on Cruise. A licensed mental health counselor said in a letter that Cruise is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, and has been deeply affected by his sudden dismissal.

Gerald V. McKenna, the counselor, wrote in a letter to the court saying, “In short, many of the beliefs that Mr. Cruise held about security and his value have been negated by the series of trauma he has experienced. There has been significant damage done to his self confidence, his self esteem has been severely damaged, and his self imagine has been reduced to the lowest level.”

Cruise, who is represented by attorney Evans J. Carter, says that he had a hard time finding a job prior to this one, due to his deafness. “Seeking for a job for the deaf is not easy,” he says. He hopes that the case will enable him to get his job back, or at least pay him for the damages he has suffered.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, October 2001.

Silent News talked with Angela and Mike Kessler of Brooklyn, N.Y., two days after the September 11th attack in New York City. Angela was on the 24th floor of the building next to the World Trade Center (WTC) at her job as a secretary for the Internal Revenue Service. Both are deaf and have three children, one of whom was at Gallaudet University on the day of the plane crashes.

“I felt absolutely nothing, nothing. I was sitting there getting ready to have my coffee with two cups of ice, like I do every day,” Angela said. She had come into work at 7 a.m. “I didn’t even feel a boom, or hear anything – nothing.”

Angela was suddenly alerted by a running coworker, who screamed at her to get out of the building now. “I didn’t understand what was going on. She said ‘explosion, explosion,’ and ran to the window. I stood there and saw this huge hole in the building next to me. I stood there looking at this burning hole and couldn’t believe that this was happening.” Angela started to run out but realized she had left behind her purse, and more importantly, her Wyndtell pager on her desk. She ran back to her desk, grabbed these two items, and ran back out.

“We were all walking very hurriedly down the stairwells. We weren’t really pushing each other down, but we were a little aggressive – mostly people were just afraid.”

Angela climbed down all 24 floors, and came out to see utter confusion in front of the buildings. “Security officers were everywhere, and nobody really knew what to do. Everyone was standing around, trying to understand what had just happened. Security was screaming at us to back up, back up. I paged my husband and told him what was going on.”

One of Angela’s coworkers realized she had left her purse up on the 24th floor. Angela said, almost in disbelief, “So she and I ran around trying to find a security guard who would let us go back up to get her purse. We finally found one who took us up in the freight elevator. We then ran back down and got out of the building.”

Suddenly, the second plane crashed into the WTC. “We all were running from the smoke. I saw two people falling, and they were holding hands,” Angela said.

Mike had bought his pager only a week before after a long time of saying he didn’t need one, and says it was a godsend he had gotten his pager. “I didn’t think I needed a pager since my wife had one, but after a while, I jokingly said to my wife and sister that maybe I should get one in case ‘something happened – what if my plane crashes or someone bombs my building or whatever?’ I never thought that my words would come true. It’s just such a blessing that I got it last week.”

Mike, at home 17 miles away in Brooklyn, was overwhelmed by the sight of the WTC on television. “I was on AOL, trying to find out what was going on – and everyone kept IMing me, seeing if I was okay or if Angela was okay.”

Meanwhile, Angela was trying to escape from the site of the crashes as the darkened smoke roared towards her. “The smoke was just unbelievable. I just ran and ran and ran. Everyone was just running from it, just running. What else could we do? There was ash everywhere. It was hard to breathe, and everything was so dirty. It was all like a movie, surreal. I couldn’t believe that I was actually the one running from that big ball of smoke, like in the movies.”

Mike got so restless about having to stay home that he decided to go ahead and drive over to the area to try and find his wife. “When I got near the area, it was  impossible to drive anywhere. Cars were bumper to bumper…so I decided to try and take a different way.”

By now, Angela had made her way over to the Manhattan Bridge, about ten miles away. “My legs were so sore. I had sandals on that weren’t really designed for running or walking, and I had to clench my toes to hold onto them. Many shoes were everywhere from people taking them off to run. So much debris everywhere,” she said.

Dazed, she walked around, trying to figure out what to do next and trying to understand what had happened. “I just stuck to my pager. I learned about what had happened through pages, and I was shocked.”

Mike and she arranged to meet at the Brooklyn Public Library. “I told her to get there as fast as she could,” Mike said, “and stay put until I came. Just stay there.”

They finally met at about 2:00 p.m., a little more than five hours after the first crash into the WTC. “I saw her and we ran into each other’s arms saying ‘I love you, I love you,'” Mike said. “She said that she really needed me, and I held on to her.”

They went home, only to discover that the relay service wasn’t working. Angela has a hearing mother in Long Island, and was unable to contact her. “I had to e-mail my brother and tell him to tell my mother to get on the TTY, so I could call back directly rather than through relay.”

Angela and Mike sat there, glued to the television and AOL. Angela received a call from her employer on Thursday morning, saying that they would be relocated to another building, that she would continue getting paid. She also learned that every worker in her department had gotten out alive.

Mike and Angela credit their pagers for saving Angela’s life. “Many people were struggling with their cell phones, because the phone lines weren’t working,” Angela said. “But I had no problem in communicating with my family and friends because of my pager. I am so glad I ran back to grab my pager.”

Mike agreed. “My advice to all deaf people: get a pager. It’s lifesaving.”

“The trauma hasn’t really hit home for me yet,” Angela said, “But I know it will take great, great effect on Mike and me within the next few months.”

For now, Angela and Mike, who can no longer see the WTC buildings from their Brooklyn apartment as they did everyday for years, are focused on regaining their lives.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally printed in Silent News, October 2001.

Man Works for LA Lakers

John Cortez, Jr., 5’1″ and 160 pounds, doesn’t quite measure up to Los Angeles Lakers Shaquille O’Neal’s 7’1″ and 315-pound frame. Their friendship, though, is something unique.

Cortez, 36, was a maintenance worker at the former arena of the Lakers, the Forum, when he got laid off. He was resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t come back to the Forum. “Shaq asked my boss where the ‘little deaf dude’ was. The boss told him that there wasn’t enough room for me to be employed with them,” Cortez said. “But Shaq wanted to see me work with the players and others, so he arranged to have me hired back.”

With this began the special connection Cortez has with Shaq. “In four years of working there, I had never visited the locker room. Finally, with Shaq, I was able to work in the locker room,” he said. “This was good, because players didn’t realize I was deaf and couldn’t hear what they were saying. I could be more focused and work on my duties.”

With the job comes some perks, like meeting famous people. “One time Michael Jordan walked into the locker room. I met him, and he tried to talk to me, but I told him I was deaf,” Cortez recalled. “He was very cool, which surprised me, about my deafness.”

“I also met Phil Jackson. His daughter knows sign language. He didn’t bother me, and I didn’t bother him. But we always say hello to each other at every game, just like I say hello to the players.”

Cortez has also worked as a water boy of sorts, giving players towels and water when they want it. “It’s an easy job,” he said. An easy job, perhaps, but one that is certainly coveted by many sports fans.

Another perk of the job is having access to game seats. Cortez attended the National Basketball Association finals game in Philadelphia. “I went there on June 11 until the 16th, and stayed at the hotel with the Lakers team. The team was glad to see me, because I am full of Laker spirit!” The Lakers went on to win the series and the world championship over the Philadelphia 76ers, 4-1. Cortez will receive a championship ring this fall.

Cortez, who currently lives in Fontana, Calif., graduated from the Colorado School for the Deaf and Blind in 1984. In addition to working for the Lakers, Cortez also is president of the Santa Ana basketball club, part of the FarWest Athletic Association of the Deaf. The club will host the Santa Ana tournament on March 8-10, 2002.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, October 2001.

I write this with a heavy heart.

A week ago today, the world seemed to end for many of us. And it did end for many people. Far too many people.

It’s convenient to think of the victims in numbers. “700, 5,000, 100.” That makes it seem all the more horrifying, all the more tragic. But start breaking the numbers down and you realize that each number represents that many personalities, that many hearts, and that many souls.

In the hours after the plane crashes, all of us reached out to each other. I, as I’m sure many of you did, received many, many e-mails from all over the world asking me if I was alive, if I was okay, especially since I am two hours from either Washington, D.C. or New York City.

So, on that day, people reached out to me and I reached out to my friends, one in particular – Moshe, a dear friend who I had met on a flight. He works as a financial analyst, and had flown out of New York City just a short time before the crashes. As soon as he landed in Ohio, he rented a car and drove all day and night to return to his wife and five kids in Long Island. He and I had somewhat of a spat the week before, but when he responded from the air saying he was alive, we immediately forgot about our silly quarrel.

I then learned that one of the Kesslers, who have a home just down the street from mine, had been next to the World Trade Center. After I interviewed them on Sept. 13, I went home, got my dog and took her to the local park as I do every day. Only, on this day, the park was completely deserted except for a man jogging around the pond wearing a t-shirt that had the U.S. flag on it, and a father with his son playing. I walked my dog a little, replaying and replaying what I had just been told by the Kesslers.

The more I thought about their words of what they had experienced, the more stunned I became. I sat down on a bench. Watching the lone jogger, I saw a flagpole next to the pond that I’d never noticed before, and the flag was at half-mast. I looked down and watched my dog, wearing an American flag bandanna around her neck sniffing innocently on the ground. Ducks swam by.

I started crying and feeling horribly guilty about being able to go to the park. The images from the past 48 hours of being glued to my television finally came down on me all at once – especially the footage I’d seen of people falling the night before. It all was so incomprehensible to me. I sat there, sobbing for about ten minutes in complete anguish and feeling completely afraid for my family, my friends and myself.

I’d like to say that someone came over and comforted me and then I knew everything would be okay. That’s not what happened. I got up, finished walking the dog, and still was crying by the time I went home. How could I not? All these people died.

Today, a week later, I went to the food store and saw people break down in tears in the aisles. I still cry even as I write this. We’re still in deep mourning, and will be for a long time to come.

We have united and shown a strong front, but we should also not forget our fears. Just over ten years ago, when President George Bush declared that we were going to war, I sat in frozen fear. I was a senior in high school. But my fears were quickly washed away with our easy victory. Other priorities, while always existent, eventually brushed my patriotism aside.

Our worst fears were confirmed again on September 11, and they may well be confirmed again and again. All we can do, though, is try and remember the individuals – not groups, but individuals – who died. We as a nation must weep. But we must also ensure that our patriotism, our love, and our remembrance do not wear off like ten years ago.

I have a card a coworker gave me years ago when there was a death in my family. It has a few lines inspired by a Greek verse. I think what it says is the best thing we can do right now, in addition to never forgetting.

Hope, it conquers the sorrow.
Shout, it eases the heartache.
Cry, it soothes the pain.
Pray, it becomes peace.

Copyrighted material. This article may not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, October 2001.

Part of every sporting event is an unchangeable, immobile and everlasting staple: the fans. And for children, there’s nothing more poignant than a parent cheering a child on.

But what if the parent’s cheering becomes angry and demanding? What if the anger becomes directed at other students or the coach?

A parent becoming angry over decisions made in sports is a common frustration for coaches across the nation. “Sideline rage,” the term coined for this anger, has become a public issue within the last three years, especially after a player’s father was jailed for beating another player’s father to death. In Las Vegas, a parent poisoned the opposing team’s players during a soccer game. Search the web, and you find article after article about parents who project their frustrations and anger on anyone available at games.

In many of these cases, parents get upset over their children not playing enough – especially when they pay fees for league sports. At deaf schools, coaches struggle to decide whether to give equal playing time to all athletes no matter what their skill levels are, or to strive for a good win.

“We were playing at a school, we were leading all the way and we lost in overtime,” Dave Olson of Minnesota says. “One of my players’ dad – who was deaf – came up to me in the locker room and yelled at me for being so passive at the very end of the game and felt I should do that and that.”

Other coaches echo similar experiences. “Two parents approached me, inquiring why I hadn’t played their boys. It was a very close game, so naturally, I put in my best players,” Mark Martin* says. “However, these boys had not been committed in practices and were put on the third or fourth string squads. I made it very clear that their boys needed to prove their commitment and dedication to the football team, and I talked to the parents in front of the boys.” The parents eventually realized that their anger was misdirected, and apologized to the coach for their anger.

“It’s frustrating, because often we are faced with limited numbers of players. Parents often expect us to play each and every player, even when the player doesn’t have the skills or has not earned the privilege to play,” Albert Smith* says. “It’s a struggle for me as a coach between whether to give equal playing time, or to give wins.”

Many of these coaches grew up in the very same schools they coach at today, and often have their own children or relatives attending or working at the schools, so the outrage from parents may sting even more. Smith recalls a situation where he had grown up with the parent of one of his players. “Suddenly he ran over to me and started hurling all these insults at me from years ago when we had gone to school together. I looked at him and asked why he was doing this in front of my players. I felt completely undermined and disrespected,” the coach remembers. “Later, he apologized, but in private. So basically all the people who saw him screaming at me didn’t see the quiet apology and I felt like my coaching reputation had been tainted. His son never treated me the same after that, either.”

Even deaf referees are not immune to this anger from parents or fans. Jesse Bailey, who is a deaf referee and also a coach, recalls an incident where he was working a game with another referee. A parent got upset with a call, which was a correct call, and “hollered his lungs out. My partner saw him and pointed to him, telling him to get out of the gym, which obviously resulted in a technical,” Bailey says. “My partner then spoke to the fans telling them to calm down and enjoy the game. He also told them that we as referees are just trying our best and doing our jobs. The fans, in turn, quieted down rest of the game.”

But perhaps we are overlooking the most important factor: the player. Often players become humiliated by their parents’ anger and rage, or feed off their parents’ rage. A coach from Wisconsin encountered two such situations.

“At one school, the persuasive parents of my player usually brought up issues about my coaching style, but they’d do it during actual game times. They also once criticized one of the other players and told their son that the player wasn’t as good as him, in front of the crowd. It really humiliated their child to see his parents making fools out of themselves in front of the whole school,” says Randy Shank, formerly of Wisconsin and currently of Minnesota.

Why do coaches experience such frustrations? The coaches cite several reasons, including qualifications for being a coach. Martin says, “It is very difficult to obtain qualified coaches for sports in schools. Some try their best but simply do not have the skills or knowledge necessary for appropriate discipline in that certain sport.”

Another reason cited is support from the school. “If the school does not give enough support, then the sports programs weaken very easily,” adds Martin.

Shank also encountered another set of parents who took more drastic action. While coaching at a school that had a very small number of players in its third year of basketball, the team was participating in a weekend tournament, and advanced to the semi-finals for their second game. The parents were upset that their son had not played during the first game and confronted Shank before the second game with their son in tow.

“They threatened me with a lawsuit if I didn’t let their son play in that night’s game,” Shank says. Stunned, Shank asked the player, in front of the parents, how he felt about not playing. “He was very embarrassed. I tried to explain to the parents that the night before was a very close game with a difference of one point. I couldn’t just let the substitute players come in for the sake of playing.” The parents reinforced their threat, and Shank decided to let the player participate when the game was ahead by 20 points.

The next day, Shank met with the parents. The parents and Shank discussed the matter at length, including a moment where the parents asked the son how he felt about not playing. The son said that he knew he was not the best player for that game, and agreed with the coach’s decision not to use him. The son also said that he was happy to see his friends play so well.

“I was fortunate that the school backed my decision and we were able to come to an agreement with the parents. But it really shocked me that parents would go that far just for a game rather than having their child participate in other ways, perhaps as a manager, or even as a fan,” Shank says.

Even so, not all schools are so supportive. One coach tells of how he was mistakenly accused of giving a student a bruise, and placed on persona non grata status, which meant he could not come on campus nor practice for the upcoming game. Later, the student clarified that a faculty member with mediocre signing skills had misunderstood him, and that the bruise came from an incident outside of practice.

The coach was reinstated, but not without wounded pride. “Fortunately, we won the homecoming game. Even so, why would I want to continue coaching for a school that hired incompetent people who aren’t fluent in sign language and cause situations like this?”

Communication between the coach and the parents is also another factor. Robin Johnson of Minnesota says, “The biggest problem, from what I know and think, between parents and coaches is lack of communication on both sides of their roles influencing the players, on and off the court.” He states that parents often jump to conclusions on reasons for why their child(ren) aren’t being used, and coaches often are not honest enough or clear enough on the players’ capacities in playing based on skill or experience.

A deaf parent of two graduates of a deaf school who are now in their twenties, Ron Sipek of Illinois agrees. “Parents need to understand that coaches do their best and try to let players play as much as possible, but coaches also are supposed to win games.”

“When my son was younger, he was a good baseball player, but often sat out many games. I knew there were other competitive players on the same team. I told him he needed to practice and commit himself to practice so he could improve,” Sipek recalls. “It was good for him, and he came out fine.”

“I think my coaches are always right about their decisions,” says Ryan Johnson (no relation to Robin), an eighth grader at the Minnesota State Academy for the Deaf. “I will always accept my coaches’ decision if they let me play or not. If they won’t let me play, then I know that I need work harder and improve myself.”

“As a coach, I wish parents do understand that coaching deaf sports isn’t easy, with inadequate players to choose from, lack of practices per week, communicating with them while they’re on the court, dealing with their academics and dormitory conflicts,” Johnson says. “Parents’ attitudes do influence students or players’ attitudes in a big way, more so than coaches realize, I think.”

“Frequent meetings with parents sure help. I often use a three-strikes-and-you’re-out policy, but I talk with the parents and students to make sure they understand this,” Martin agrees.

Many schools, such as the Model Secondary School for the Deaf, enforce a code of conduct, with parents and players signing agreements to abide by the code. Are they helpful? Bailey says, “Yes! Definitely. School gyms, mostly middle schools, have permanent boards hanging on gym walls explaining codes of conduct. When I first saw one, I thought, ‘Wow, that’s decent’ because obviously, they are considerate about surrounding areas in the gym, not just the games and/or players.”

Overall, it’s clear that a strong relationship between parents and coaches are needed for a successful athletic experience for the students. “Parents have important roles,” Sipek says. “They need to communicate with their coaches, but they can’t just demand. At the same time, coaches need to be fair and know that winning is not everything all the time.”

For a sample code of conduct, visit the National Youth Sports Safety Foundation’s website at www.nyssf.org.

* Not their real names.

Copyrighted material. This article may not be copied, reprouced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Originally appeared in Silent News, December 2001.

Never before have pieces of mail seemed so suspicious, so frightening. Once, letters and parcels were a welcome guest in anybody’s mailbox. Now, they’re regarded with caution. Offices are using gloves to open mail. Envelopes with no return addresses are triggers for alarm.

This, of course, is due to the anthrax scare of late. Anthrax, a form of bacteria that can be deadly if not treated immediately, has been found in seven postal facilities in New Jersey, and 17 people have been infected either by the inhaled form or the skin form. Letters received by NBC anchorman Tom Brokaw and U.S. Senator Tom Daschle of South Dakota were both mailed from the same post office in New Jersey, along with several other letters: the Hamilton Township Post Office.

The Hamilton Post Office, located in a small town on a quiet highway outside of Trenton, serves as a processing center for 46 branches, and has 1,100 employees. At least 16 of these employees are deaf.

Communication, as seems to be the case in every major event or crisis in the society at large, has been a problem for the deaf postal workers. When the first case was found at Hamilton, the sudden presence of emergency vehicles and media trucks on Oct. 13 were confusing for some of the postal workers. John Munn, whose wife Jayne also works at Hamilton, said that he was working when he found out about the coworker that had been infected. “I didn’t know what was going on, so I asked other employees and was really scared.”

“I first learned about the anthrax incident from the news where it was first found in Florida,” Ron Arrigo of Trenton, N.J., said, “and then there was a meeting in my post office about the fact that the tainted mail actually went through our building.” There was no interpreter present at the Oct. 15 meeting, although a co-worker who knew some sign language helped fill the deaf employees in on the proceedings.  Another meeting was also held on Oct. 18, when the post office closed. No interpreter was provided, but again a co-worker wrote a few notes to Arrigo, who has worked for 18 years in the small parcel box sort department. “She wrote a few lines for a meeting that lasted 20 minutes.”

At a gathering of the Hamilton deaf postal workers on Nov. 10, 15 of the workers echoed each other’s frustrations and concerns to Silent News. According to the workers – who, on the average, have worked 15 years or more for the post office – an interpreter is rarely provided for daily interactions or emergency situations, although one is provided for their biweekly meetings.

Almost all of the workers were immediately put on Cipro, an antibiotic used when doctors are unsure of the effects of an infection. “We were all sent to the hospital to be put on the medication,” Flora Hill of East Windsor, N.J., said. “There was a long line and nobody really understood what was going on.”

“There was no interpreter provided at the hospital, either,” Arrigo said. One of the deaf workers, Helen Rojas, went to the hospital to be given Cipro, and was confused when she was denied the medication. Later, she found out that since she already was being treated with antibiotics for her cold, she didn’t need to be put on Cipro.

After seven days, each worker was then put on Doxycycline for eight weeks. Many of the workers said that they were surprised by the hefty side effects of Cipro, such as extreme nausea, diarrhea, and weakness.

Each worker was given one of several options: be transferred to another facility, using vacation time or sick leave, or leave without pay until further notification. Arrigo, who has a deaf wife and two deaf children, said, “I opted to take the leave without pay until I could decide what I should do. I don’t want to put my children at risk, nor do I want to put myself at risk.”

While a select few also opted for leave without pay, most are still working at different facilities. Shuttle buses are provided to those who are used to driving to Hamilton, and many workers are determined to not let the scare stop them. Ronald Chisolm of Bear, Del., works as a clerk. “I work in an office rather than out on the floor, so I’m not as much at risk as the others. Still, it’s very isolating because I am the only deaf [person] in my office – and often I am left out about what is going on.”

“Most of us are finding out updates, information and important details from TV, newspapers and the Internet,” added Hill.

“I am very disappointed about how they handled all this from the very beginning. They were very vague about the seriousness of this and kept us in the building without notifying us that the tainted letters actually went through the building and what danger it could be for us,” Arrigo said.

Apparently, the lack of information for deaf workers isn’t limited to Hamilton. A Washington Post story reported on Nov. 2 that 25 deaf employees at the Brentwood facility in Washington, D.C., were frustrated by the lack of notification and communication with supervisors and managers and demanded a meeting to be updated.

Elsewhere, deaf postal employees have reported the same lack of information. Dave Litman of St. Paul, Minn., said, “For me personally, it was not until one week after the initial service talk that I got any information pertaining to anthrax, and even then I had to request information.”  Tim Sisley of Glen Ellyn, Ill. said, “We were not notified until a few days later of the anthrax scare when we had an emergency meeting.”

However, Jeff Bowen, a city carrier in Prairie Village, Kan., said that there was a meeting called for all deaf workers at his facility. “There was also a videotape about anthrax and what we should do with it.”

Meanwhile, back at Hamilton, the deaf postal workers continue to wonder about their future. Jayne Munn said, “My 19-year-old daughter was really upset to learn that I was going to keep working. She was hysterical, crying and begged me not to work. But I have to work, it’s my living.”

The Hamilton facility continues to be closed until further cleaning and testing are completed. Makeshift mobile offices have been established in front of the building, with police presence.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.