An half-hour later, we were sipping cold drinks in the California heat. I was anxious to get to the interview, having a slew of questions ready. I had heard nothing but rave reviews about the non-profit organization, having had friends who worked under Rems-Smario for an internship or a full-time job.But I wanted to hear it from the Director herself: what exactly does Deaf Hope do, and what is their latest project?

Rems-Smario beamed, without a doubt proud of her organization. Deaf Hope, Rems-Smario explained, has the mission of “…end[ing] domestic and sexual violence against Deaf women and children through empowerment, education and services”, offering information, referrals, peer counseling, case management and systems advocacy for Deaf survivors. “Like ASADV?,” I asked, referring to the Advocacy Services for Abused Deaf Victims of Rochester, New York. Rems-Smario nodded — they were sister organizations, with Rems-Smario having gone through “boot camp” with the likes of Mary Mowl and Vicki Hurwitz of ASADV, whom DeafNation interviewed in the very beginning of the road trip. 
 
And Deaf Hope’s biggest project to date? Sorting the logistics of their new Deaf space, which will serve as an escape for victims of domestic and sexual abuse. Because many women find retreat from abuse in shelters — and stay for an extended period of time — Deaf women often leave after not even two days, returning to their attackers. The reasons? Communication barriers and the overwhelming sense of loneliness they experience from being at a shelter full of hearing women, unable to relate with each other, despite having the same experiences.

Plans are well underway for the shelter, which include apartment complexes, a centralized building with meeting rooms, private alcoves, high-tech security systems, mediating spaces and zen areas in the gardens, and a warm, open-spaced kitchen specifically designed with the Deaf woman in mind. Everything is incredibly Deaf-friendly: placement of windows and lights, and the architecture of entire house is based on openness and healing, on clarity and warmth. “This will be a safe place for women — all women,” Rems-Smario stressed.  
 
Later in the night, after the golf tournament, there was a buffet-style dinner, where friends sat amongst love and caring, leg-to-leg with philanthropists and those fiercely loyal to the organization. After introducing the Board and a few other key people, there was a cake auction, where homemade and bakery-style cakes were auctioned off to fundraise money for the new center. Bids flew, and well over a thousand dollars was raised. Donations were also slipped into Rems-Smario’s hand, and tight hugs and grateful thank-yous were given in exchange. An architect also came to speak on the specific plans of the center, with the Director herself hearing the plans for the first time as well!

There is a quote on the Deaf Hope website: “I aspire to leave the world a better place going out than when I came in.”

Maybe it’s Barak Obama’s influence. Maybe the DeafNation crew is having great luck, meeting nothing but incredible people. But Deaf Hope has concreted one thing: the audacity of hope is well and alive from coast to coast. From those in Austine who, despite dwindling numbers in enrollment, continue to provide top-notch education; to Nebraska, where despite losing their Deaf institute, continues to preserve the Deaf community that so vibrantly exists in Omaha; and to Deaf Hope, where despite witnessing the ruins of abuse — and at times, the face of death — the organization holds on to the everlasting faith that one day, we will overcome hatred and malevolence…

…and that instead of hoping, we can be living what we’ve hoped for.

In the midst of our intercontinental trek, we had nearly forgotten about Shawn’s wish – until he mentioned something outside of California that he really wanted to do it.

Right, right! – we exclaimed, and got busy trying to find the best-looking hot springs we could find in Northern California. Up popped Stewart Mineral Springs Resort, secretly tucked away in Mount Shasta, located in the town of Weed, California.

However, reading the website confused us – were mineral springs the same as a hot springs? What was the difference? What was the bathhouse, exactly? How did the whole thing work?

Our questions were quickly answered by Rowena, who explained that what we wanted to sign up for – a soothing, purifying mineral bath. It was not a simple soak-and-enjoy; it was three-step process. If we signed up, we would need to do the following:

• We would be assigned a one-person bathhouse – a closet of a room with just a huge Victorian tub, a chair, and clothing hooks.
• Hot mineral water would come through the tap, and we would have to relax in the tub for five minutes.
• After getting out, we would need to wrap ourselves in a towel, and go to the dry-wood sauna, where we would veg in the hot room for five minutes.
• After the sauna, we would have to head outside and take a thirty-second plunge into the below-freezing creek.

This proved to be one of the most relaxing things any of us ever tried. We all left feeling cleansed, like we had just taken an hour-long shower that had somehow managed to steep way past our pores.

Photos were prohibited at the resort, so the only thing we can provide you with is the link http://www.stewartmineralsprings.com – and the gorgeous scenery on the way to/from the resort!

After exchanging greetings and grabbing our lattes and hot chocolates, we settled down with President Clemenhagen to learn more about her, her current term as President, and the upcoming Deaf Women United Conference in 2009, hosted by DWOW.

Clemenhagen wasn’t always deaf – after losing her hearing from medicine she was given at age two, she continued to be treated like a hearing person: meaning, no interpreters or any sort of support system(s) provided by her school. It was also, not until Clemenhagen was 18 when she met her first Deaf person. Inspired by the meeting, she was determined to become more involved in Deaf activities.

Fast-forward to 2005, when Clemenhagen got together with women from both Oregon and Washington to help establish DWOW (which was not officially recognized until 2007). Serving as a board member for the first two years, then signing on to be Vice-President the following year, it didn’t take Clemenhagen long to earn the respect and trust of the women of DWOW, who saw her fit to currently serve as President.

“[DWOW is] so invested in the community,” Clemenhagen stressed. “We do so much with the limited resources we have,” with Clemenhagen going on to tick off a long list of DWOW’s recent events: the DWOW calendar, their newsletter, the DWOW Progressive Dinner, their annual Tea Party, and much more. They also recently, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, had a breast cancer workshop.

But the real cherry on top is, to date, DWOW’s most monumental task: coordinating the upcoming 12th Biennial Deaf Women United Conference in Portland, Oregon, set to take place on July 22-26 this summer. Damara Paris, a woman who has been a longtime member – and an extremely involved advocate – of DWU and DWOW, is the conference chair.

Want to find out more information about DWU’s Conference? You can go to http://dwu.org/conferences/2009/index.html

Check out the pictures — all for your viewing pleasure!

“We’re going to Mount Rushmore!,” Erica squealed. It was nearly 9:00 at night, and Shawn was weaving our RV through the curvy roads to meet the famous faces: the first President of the United States George Washington, President #3 and firm believer in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness Thomas Jefferson, Nobel Peace-Prize winning (and 26th President) Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt, and slavery-abolitionist Abraham Lincoln.

If you Wikipedia.com “Mount Rushmore”, you’ll find several interesting facts, such as: during the carving process, there was heavy use of dynamite, in which two million tons of rock were blasted off the mountainside! You’ll also be interested (and relieved!) to know that no one died at any point of the project, which cost $989,992.32. The pictures you could find on Google are pretty, but nothing beat seeing it live, and especially at night!

We camped out in the area for the night, then headed out bright and early the next morning to see our next national monument – Devils Tower, tucked away in northeast Wyoming.

Many of us had never heard of Devils Tower – when we searched for images of the Tower, we were unimpressed. But it’s not until you see it when you finally stand in awe, because what differentiates Devils Tower from the surrounding terrain is that it rises an astonishing 1,267 feet over the rest – and the folklore behind the Devils Tower.

Excerpted from Wikipedia.com:
Another version tells of how two Sioux boys wandered far from their village when Mato the bear, a huge creature that had claws the size of teepee poles, spotted them, and wanted to eat them for breakfast. He was almost upon them when the boys prayed to Wakan Tank the Creator to help them. They rose up on a huge rock, while Mato tried to get up from every side, leaving huge scratch marks as he did. Finally, he sauntered off, disappointed and discouraged. The bear came to rest east of the Black Hills at what is now Bear Butte. Wanblee, the eagle, helped the boys off the rock and back to their village.

Something definitely worth seeing!

“Gee, I can’t tell who’s most excited,” chuckled our RV driver Shawn, pointing at Darryl. Laughing, we all turned to face Darryl, who was busy shrugging his NASCAR jacket on over his DeafNation polo shirt, carefully picking lint off his coat.

But then again, what did we expect? Darryl loves cars, and we were going to meet racer Greg Gunderson, known in the Deaf community – and the Midwest racing community – as one of the best racers in sprint car racing – and Deaf, too.

As visions of checkered flags and gleaming trophies danced in Darryl’s head, we walked up the steps to Gunderson’s South Dakota home. Welcoming us inside, Gunderson didn’t wait long to pop in a DVD, which featured advertisement-clad cars whizzing across the screen, dust flying behind them.

Watching for a few moments – then wandering away from Gunderson and the DeafNation crew, all of whom were glued to the television – Erica motioned for me to follow her into a smaller room adjacent to the den we were in.

Wondering what it was that caught her eye, I trailed behind her, peeking into the room. I was quick to detect the intrigue: trophies and plaques lined the walls and shelves. Photographs – new and old – were placed side by side, featuring Gunderson with various combinations of cars, beautiful women, grinning crowds, and trophies.

Gunderson entered the room behind us, glowing proud as he looked around. Walking over to pull off a black-and-white photograph from the wall, Gunderson narrated how he got into racing. “My parents actually met at a race – both sides of my family raced…it’s in the blood,” he winked, pointing at a handsome young man standing by a car. “My grandfather,” Gunderson signed. Dubbing his grandfather as his biggest influence, the then-young Gunderson would play make-believe in his grandfather’s 1939 Chevy when he wasn’t busy watching his races (this is also why Gunderson’s racecar number is always 39). When Gunderson turned six, he started racing: ATVs, motorcycles, and the like – and it wasn’t long before he soon graduated to cars.

After years of dabbling with different types of racing, Gunderson finally found his true love: sprint car racing. When asked what his best memory was, the racer laughed. “Easy question!”: It was 1990. Gunderson had a big race – this particular race only happened every two years: one run on Wednesday, and another on Sunday.

Wednesday came, and Gunderson’s racing was off. Gunderson’s owner was none too pleased, but waited to see how the racer performed in a different race on Friday. Friday proved to be a repeat of Wednesday, which led the owner to declare that Gunderson was not to race on Sunday. Set in his decision – and escaping to a fishing trip – Gunderson was left alone with just his uncle, his crew also taking off per the owner’s request.

But something that day compelled Gunderson to ignore his owner’s wishes. Making the decision to race on Sunday – and working with his uncle in getting his car prepared, Gunderson entered the race. Coming in third for the first heat, he became excited, but was careful not to be too overly-optimistic. Once the race started, Gunderson took the lead….and held it. Paralyzed by the realization, his hands stayed frozen on the wheel, holding his lead, until he saw the final flags come down, announcing that the race was over…

…and that he was the winner!

But the best feeling ever, Gunderson remarked, was when he emerged from his car to see fans on their feet – not clapping with applause, but instead, waving their arms – honoring the Deaf racer with the appropriate congratulations.

“I believed I could do it…so many people didn’t think I could. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut, and believe you can do it…and you will succeed,” signed Gunderson, both index fingers hanging in the air, pointing skyward. “You will succeed.”

To learn more about Greg Gunderson, you can go to www.gundersonracing.com!

So, needless to say, I never went to a Deaf camp. The closest one was approximately four hours away, and cost far too much money for too short of a time. As friends regaled me of summers spent at Camp Mark Seven or Camp Isola Bella, I spent hot July days running through garden sprinklers and my Slip’N’Slide, only to be pried away from watery fun for at-home speech therapy.

This isn’t to say I had a traumatic childhood – far from. But as someone who understands the value of a Deaf identity – and knows firsthand what it’s like to discover their Deaf identity long past due – it is easy for me to say that upon arriving at Camp Lakodia in Madison, South Dakota, I immediately felt like I was in heaven on earth.

The combination of bright autumn leaves, the crisp air signaling the coming of winter, the smell of fresh wooden cabins and the seemingly miles of placid Lake Herman that bordered the campgrounds were almost too much to bear. Newly renovated just a few years earlier, Camp Lakodia – also serving as a four-seasons resort – was breathtaking. We met up with Jeff Perri – known to many as Chef Jeff – who serves as Director of Food Service Operations, for a tour of the grounds.

Sprawling over seventeen acres, Camp Lakodia has twelve cabins total – not including legendary Deaf icon Frank Turk’s previous home, which he donated to CSD. Appropriately described on the Camp Lakodia website as a “piece of pine heaven”, the Turk Lodge can house up to 18 people, with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and an extensive master suite. But bar none the best part of the Turk Lodge is the absolutely divine view of the lake, which is easily seen from any of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the first floor.

The camp hosts a motley assortment of events on the campgrounds – weddings, family reunions, and corporate functions, but that’s not all: Camp Lakodia also hosts Lakodia Outfitters (http://www.lakodiaoutfitters.com), which offer hunters a comprehensive pheasant-hunting package, with everything from prepared meals to hunting dogs, bird cleanings to a weekend stay in a lodge – with all of the net proceeds going to support Camp Lakodia’s Deaf summer camps: the National Leadership and Literacy Camp, which is a camp to “prepare, through a challenging learning environment, each child for a meaningful and productive life in a competitive and ever-changing world” (http://www.nllcamp.com) and a basketball camp.

Camp Lakodia is owned and operated by CSD, LLC.

I tugged at my sweater zipper, pulling it higher to block the nippy South Dakota air. With the weather looming at a chilly 45 degrees, it was apparent autumn was coming to a close as I walked toward the main building of the Communication Services for the Deaf. Situated in Sioux Falls, I silently reviewed the little of what I knew about CSD – the non-profit established in 1975; CEO Benjamin Soukup serves as the President of the Board of Trustees at Gallaudet University; the President of NAD – Bobbie Beth Scoggins – works at CSD as the company’s Chief Operations Officer.

But there’s much more to CSD than the untrained Deaf eye is familiar with, which is why the DeafNation crew visited the site of CSD with Rick Norris, an associate from the Corporate Communications department. Touring the headquarters, Norris shone light on the company and all that it had to offer….

Communication Services for the Deaf is, according to their website (www.c-s-d.org), a private, non-profit organization that is “dedicated to providing broad–based services, ensuring public accessibility and increasing public awareness of issues affecting deaf and hard of hearing individuals”. And they are able to do this, thanks to the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, a series of laws passed by Congress to prevent the discrimination against qualified individuals based on their disability. This law also helped CSD receive financial backing from the government, enabling the non-profit to support and advocate Deaf people across the nation – with a total of 49 locations – in many different ways:

• Providing telecommunication relay services (TRS) and video relay services (VRS);
• Offering interpreting services, such as a mentoring program (http://c-s-d.org/default.aspx?pageid=18) and serving as a referral agency;
• Hosting community education programs (http://c-s-d.org/default.aspx?pageid=333);
• Hosting an annual leadership and literacy camp (http://www.nllcamp.com/) and a basketball camp;
• Developing and implementing Public Access Videophones (PAVs) in public places, such as airports (http://www.csdpav.com/);
• Operating an equipment distribution program;
• Offering community independent living services;
• Offering pre- and post-employment services;
• Offering senior Deaf adult services (offering events, transportation, and housing opportunities);
• Providing media outlets via SIGNews and CSDTV;

The list of what CSD offers barely begins – in addition to offering services and programs on a nationwide level, the company also has strong philanthropic roots, donating to the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf, the National Association of the Deaf, and nearly 200+ organizations, both monetary and in-kind.

But the best part of the Communication Services for the Deaf? The man who founded it. People with passion are few and far in between, but Benjamin John Soukup, Jr. – a man whose name is often equated to “fervor” – has not only the drive to serve Deaf and hard-of-hearing people, but has hired many equally dedicated employees who share that very same vision. This is perhaps why, when CSD decided to have De’VIA artist Chuck Baird design 36”x48” mixed-media collages dedicated to six Deaf American leaders: Laurent Clerc, George Veditz, Fred Schreiber, Robert Davila, Frank Turk, Rosanne Rosen – that Soukup’s employees got together, agreeing to surprise their CEO with a collage dedicated to him in a well-deserved recognition for being a pioneer in providing human services for the Deaf and hard-of-hearing for 30+ years. Perhaps the South Dakota license plate had it right – the state was all about “Great Faces, Great Places”!

CSD is here for you! To read more about what CSD offers – and how you can benefit from the company as a Deaf individual – you can go to www.c-s-d.org to learn more!

…. a mere twenty-minute drive. The short drive is not the only perk: because the deaf institute in Council Bluffs, Iowa, is such a short distance away, many former Nebraska School for the Deaf students were able to transfer there, as opposed to being placed in mainstream settings. The thought provided some comfort as the DeafNation RV pulled into the school parking lot, with the crew before long being greeted by high-school teacher and honored ISD alumni Jerry Siders, along with retired teacher and ISD Museum curator Shirley Hicks.

After exchanging greetings, we walked into the state-of-the-art Lied Multipurpose Complex, which housed an enormous gym, a wheelchair-accessible heated pool with a water slide, several multipurpose rooms, and two racquetball courts. Only erected just six years ago, the building was named after Ernest Lied, a philanthropist who donated $2 million of the needed $8 million to erect the building. It was at Lied where we were joined by Superintendent Jeanne Prickett, who was dressed head-to-toe in the ISD maroon and gold for the Saturday football game against the Oklahoma deaf institute! Bringing the DeafNation crew up to date with what ISD has been up to, she mentioned that there was one item she was most excited about: the vastly improved literacy amongst the ISD students. “They’re taking charge of their learning, going above and beyond what is taught in the classrooms – and exceeding everyone’s expectations,” Prickett said, beaming with pride.

How do they keep the 109-student school running successfully? “Unbelievably supportive legislation,” Prickett affirms, going on to commend the Board of Regents in the State of Iowa for their incredible system of governance – which most states don’t have. “ISD is also fortunate to have devoted faculty and staff as well,” Prickett adds, grinning at both Siders and Hicks.

Despite being retired, Shirley Hicks cannot let go of ISD. “I love it here…it’s another home for me,” she said shyly, placing her hand over her heart as we talked towards the Administration building. Motioning for the DeafNation crew to follow her, Hicks took us several flights up, leading us to the ISD Museum.

Known as one of the best Deaf museums in the nation, ISD has dedicated nearly an entire floor to preserving the history of ISD. From quilts to class photographs, copies of commencement books dating back to the early 1900s to furniture made by previous ISD students, vintage electronics to tombstones, this museum had it all – even a Hall of Fame (which both Siders and Hicks are in for their loving dedication to ISD).

Want to know more about ISD? You can go here: www.iowaschoolforthedeaf.org
Want a tour of the grand ISD museum? You can contact cangeroth@iowaschoolforthedeaf.org to set up an appointment!

In light of the situation at Louisiana School for the Deaf, it is becoming increasingly important to preserve our Deaf institutes. Often serving as the building-bricks of a Deaf child’s security and identity, suspending a school for the Deaf could very well be considered equivalent to rendering that very child homeless.

That is why it broke my heart when the DeafNation crew visited the Nebraska School for the Deaf. Founded in 1869, the school was forced to close its doors in 1998 due to the rising cost per pupil. Despite local and nationwide protests from the Deaf community, the legislation stuck with their decision, later on selling the school and its 23-acre property to the Genesis Foundation for a dirt-cheap $2.5 million.

Walking onto campus to meet up with our tour guides – Nebraska Association of the Deaf Vice-President Jonathan Scherling, Nebraska School for the Deaf Alumni Association President Linsay Darnall, Jr., and NSDAA Historian/NSD museum Curator Daniel Darnall – it did not take long to sense the enormous investment the three men have made to preserve the 129-year history of NSD.

But it was perhaps the younger Darnall brother that struck me the most. Seemingly more audacious of the two, he spoke fervently of the tireless efforts of all the Deaf organizations in Nebraska to keep the institute open, the utter sadness felt by the community that followed when the school shut its doors, and his own personal unyielding efforts to collect and preserve all that defined NSD. Leading the DeafNation crew downstairs to the basement of what were formerly the NSD boys’ dormitories, Darnall unlocked a door and turned the light on.

I was immediately greeted with the familiar library scent – the combination of dust settled on worn leather and aged ink on paper greeted me. Running my fingertips over a desk from the early 1900s, I looked around the room in awe. Boxes upon boxes of schoolbooks sat atop each other, with mountains of paper – presumably student records, statistics, annual reviews – stacked on wooden furniture and a majority of the shelves. Ancient athlete uniforms spilled out of creates, which sat on top of circa-1970s filing cabinets. The shelves also held plaques and trophies, framed certifications and vintage electronic equipment.

“You’re standing in the middle of 100+ years of history,” Daniel grinned. “And that’s not all we have….we have more – much more.”

He led us to another storage room, which held the more heavy items belonging to NSD, such as a first superintendent’s rocking chair, a jukebox purchased by the younger Darnall’s graduating class, movie reels, a barber’s chair, a handful of large trophies, early 1900 blankets with special embroidery of the school name – “…which I found in the bottom of a garbage can – surely to be used as rags!,” exclaimed Darnall, shaking his head in utter disgust.

“So, all this stuff just sits here, in these rooms…?,” I asked.

Daniel nodded. “We don’t have the room – or the resources – to build a bigger museum other than the one we have upstairs,” he sighed, but then brightened up. “Perhaps through more help from alumni and donations, that may be feasible one day.”

Darnall lead us upstairs to the NSD museum. Simply put, the museum is the direct result of labor and of love, and it cannot be put into words how spectacular the museum is. Everyone should go see the museum for themselves, but not before ensuring that Daniel Darnall as your tour guide!

To find out how you can donate or to get a museum tour, you can go to www.nsdmuseum.org!