A lobby half full of ALDAns stretched out before me. Stiffen the sinews, Bill, conjure up the blood. Diguise fair nature….No, no, this isn’t war. Relax. Deep breath. ALDA conference. Karaoke. Think fun.
But 15 years away from ALDA had eroded my composure. Did I really want to plunge into the pool again? What if the water was cold? I glanced quickly around but didn’t see anyone I knew for certain. There were a few faces I vaguely recognized, like indistinct, lingering images of a dream. But I couldn’t attach names to the faces, and I didn’t want to stop and guess. With Vaughn close behind, I strode briskly towards the reservations desk.
I felt relief when I got to the counter. I've stayed in a lot of hotels over the years and know the check-in routine by rote: "Graham; GRAham; yes, William; four nights, (give credit card), (sign slip), one key is fine, where do I go?, thank you." Piece of cake, even if the clerk has an impenetrable accent. This clerk seemed a bit uneasy to communicate with me, maybe because with two c.i.'s attached to my head I was obviously one of t-h-e-m. I saw a card with the fingerspelling alphabet on the desk before him and playfully said “Good luck with that!” to which he smiled. I then reflected that his likely slowness in fingerspelling a word would actually be a perfect pace for many ALDAns, not necessarily excluding me.
Before I got to "where do I go?" I felt a tap on the shoulder. I turned warily to see who was tapping and...Phil Bravin!...Phil!...PHIL!!...I sprung forward and gave him a big hug, Deaf style. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” I said-and-signed in disbelief. Phil fails the litmus test of late-deafness by a country mile. He is what people call strong Deaf, from a multigenerational-ASL-forever Deaf family. Not strong ALDA at all. So why was he at ALDAcon? Then I remembered Phil had become a consultant for CSDVRS, one of the video-relay titans, which had an exhibit booth at the conference. His crafty-fox grin broke into a hearty chuckle.
Phil and I go way back, all the way back to my ALDA heyday, when dinosaurs ruled the Earth. We served many years together on the Gallaudet Board of Trustees--he was board Chair; I, an acolyte--and all the years he was there we had these little bowls of M&Ms around the boardroom table during afternoon sessions. After he left the board, the M&Ms unexpectedly left too. I mourned both losses.
We hadn't totally lost touch: He returned to Gallaudet occasionally while I was still on the board, and he always sends me his annual Christmas letter, which becomes longer every year as his extended family multiplies. (Each letter includes a Bravin family photo, now possible only with a fisheye lens.) Although we had our differences about what happened at Gallaudet two years ago, my respect and affection for Strong D Phil has never wavered. So when I saw him there at the Doubletree, I broke into a slaphappy smile that utterly demolished my unease about attending ALDAcon.
"Sir, the elevator is behind you." Still smiling, I looked at the desk clerk and said: "Thanks!" Suddenly that lobby of conference-goers looked a helluva lot more inviting. Sweetheart, get me rewrite: little d Bill has landed.
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