TWO BUSES

Allow me to preface this article by saying that I know almost nothing about the linguistics of American Sign Language (ASL).  The one time I sat in a class that discussed the mechanics of ASL, I left and never returned.  This has not dampened my affection for ASL or my appreciation for its beauty and versatility.  There’s enough evidence out there that says it is a bona fide language.  That’s good enough for me.

So, Good Reader, strap yourself in and come with me as we take a roller coaster ride through the highways and byways of my memories as I tell you of the time that I was privileged to catch a glimpse of the true power of American Sign Language.

I don't remember the exact year and but I do know that it was during the latter half of the 80s and that it was during the summer. I had just begun my active involvement with the deaf community.  There was a bus trip planned to Washington DC. The agenda included visiting a lot of DC landmarks and I decided to go. 

Two buses, each with a mixture of deaf and hearing people, took off. Each bus also carried an interpreter. The weather was nice, all were in a good mood, and the open road was before us.

Here’s a secret.  If you want to make a bus trip something to remember, get the best bus driver you can find.  They are the key to elevating a road trip from being merely tolerable into a truly unique experience.  The best ones will talk to you as they drive and will regale you with hours of stories from their travels and so forth.

Luck was with both buses that day as the drivers were the sociable type.  They were full of stories. They asked all sorts of questions about deaf culture and ASL. They also teased each other over their radios, telling each other to hurry up. They even raced each other, which was probably illegal, but was FUN.

Someone on my bus started a sing-along of Old McDonald Had a Farm.  Hands flew, voices chimed in, and the interpreter was also acting as a conductor, keeping everyone in place.  Our bus driver even joined in. 

We pulled up alongside the other bus.  I glanced over and there it was and was treated to the absolute picture of harmony.  Their hands moved in concert with ours.  Their voices matched us word for word.  Their interpreter was also busily signing away. 

It turned out that the bus drivers had turned on their radios so we could hear each other and everyone was now singing about that elderly gentlemen and his various farm animals.  Side by side, barreling down the highway, without a care in the world, we were truly united.  We looked through the windows at each other, laughed, made the I Love You hand shape, and sang even louder.

What I witnessed then was the power of a language to transcend racial, political, religious, and political boundaries. I had a glimpse, however brief, of what could be rather than what was.  I was witnessing true unity between the deaf and hearing.

That unity was temporary, a brief spark of light in the darkness, but it was there and it was undeniable.

American Sign Language, channeled through the interpreters, was the glue that brought the two communities together.  There was genuine solidarity on display for those few minutes.  It was evidence that, yes, American Sign Language holds the same power as any other language to overcome differences to build bridges where two different cultures can finally stand side by side and simply celebrate their shared humanity.