The deaf should remember that they are in a way abnormal. We cannot be like other men. It could not well be otherwise when we realize that we are deprived of what is perhaps the most important of the senses. It seems to me far better to face the fact that we cannot well conceal our handicap. Usually when we mingle with others in everyday life every person within 100 feet of us will know sooner or later that we are deaf. Some of the worst blunders which the deaf man can make are those which come from pretending that he can hear. We shall receive better treatment and be freer from disappointment if we frankly admit our handicap and throw ourselves upon the generosity of our friends, or even of strangers.
I suppose that curiosity causes more real torture to the deaf man than anything else. Some of the deaf are exceedingly curious. They must know what others are talking about, and they often pester their companions almost beyond endurance in an effort to learn all the trivial details of small conversation. They bring themselves to believe that most conversation going on about them refers to something in which they are vitally interested, and in this way they come to imagine all sorts of disagreeable things. This idle curiosity leads to endless grief and trouble. Forget it! That brief advice is peculiarly applicable to the deaf, for it is much harder for them to forget things than for those whose minds are constantly diverted by sound. One of the greatest troubles of the average deaf man is that he cannot forget the things which annoy except by driving them out of the brain by new suggestions, or by forcing himself to think of happier and more interesting things. That is why every deaf person should have some harmless or interesting hobby which he can always mount and spur into speed whenever the imps of the silence come out of their holes. Yet, there is such a thing as riding a hobby so hard that the rider loses his hat, and the deaf man makes a very ridiculous John Gilpin when his hobby runs away with him.
Above all things, we must believe in the loyalty and affection of our family and companions. Remember that they are human, perhaps more so than we are. We can easily become a nuisance to them. They may perhaps show their annoyance for the moment, but at heart they are true, and we should never lose faith in them, if we can possibly avoid it. I think, too, it is a mistake to allude to our trouble as an affliction, as too many of us are tempted to do. It is a handicap, and often a very serious one. Yet, we may easily find people with real afflictions, worse than ours, and we well know that we would not readily change our identity if such a thing could be done. I find that successful teachers of lip-reading insist that deafness should never be spoken of as an affliction. It is a handicap, perhaps, but the surest way to make it worse is to go about classing the deaf with afflicted people; and the intelligent deaf scarcely, if ever, speak of those who are deaf and dumb. That is a term to be avoided, for education or scientific treatment is ending that condition. The entire life of the deaf, if they hope to enjoy even ordinary happiness, must be built on the sunshine theory; always search for the bright side. In all our life there is nothing so destructive of character as self-pity. Far better look about for undoubted advantages of life in the silence, and train our rebellious spirits to work patiently under the yoke. In that way we may easily gain new strength of character and greater power from our trouble. I like to repeat the statement over and over that I have found this a good world. It is well filled with kindly people, who on the whole are ready to give every man with a handicap a fair start if they can only be made to realize that he is willing to fight the good fight with cheerfulness and without complaint.