These days, I don’t write about Mom as I used to back in the pre-Efes days, but this is an extraordinary occasion, and it demands a reference.
Tomorrow is the first day of my training as a certified Israeli Sign Language interpreter.
I often, in my many sojourns into the (mostly) foreign blogosphere, point out that I was “born and raised Jewish”. I add that I’m an Israeli, ethnically Jewish, a person of some Jewish or some Israeli tradition, a modern-day tri-lingual Hebrew.
But the truth of the matter is different, and I can’t blame myself for not stating it bluntly whenever I introduce my “origins”.
The truth is, really, that the true upbringing that I had can only be faithfully be described as “Born and raised Deaf”.
After the Efes, I decided that my infatuation with Biology is not enough. I felt that it’s vitally important for me to remember not only where I want to be (a cog in the massive cogwheel of science), but also also where I came from (a Deaf person with functioning ears).
This is for you, Mom. I will always love you.