Through Our Eyes: My Life In Stereo

Through Our Eyes: My Life In Stereo

“I hear like you see.” Ray Charles

One of the most common questions I receive from people is if my hearing is heightened due to the loss of my sight, and I always answer “No, it isn’t heightened, I just pay more attention to it because it matters more.”

At exactly 4:30 on a Thursday morning, classic rock-n-roll reverberates through the speaker of an Alexa device and fills my bedroom, and if that doesn’t serve to raise me from a deep sleep, a foghorn blows half an hour later. A hot shower and a few minutes later, I am in my humble kitchen, the drums and electric guitars of classic rock providing the soundtrack to my early morning, as the different aromas of my fried egg, toast and coffee (either maple pecan or blueberry) mingle in the air.

As I flip and fry my egg to perfection, the sound the smell and the consistency of the egg changes, signifying its readiness to be flipped onto a piece of buttered toast and devoured. As my coffee pours into my mug, the low-pitched sound of the pouring becomes slightly higher as the cup fills, reaching a pitch that I know to mean the cup is full, so I need not burn my fingers feeling for the scolding liquid. Lining the lip of the bottle of creamer over the mug, I make a pouring motion until I hear the small splashing sound of the creamer hitting the surface of the coffee, ceasing to pour about half a second after hearing that sound.

It is now approaching 6:30 in the morning, and it is time to go to work. The cool crisp fall morning demands my leather jacket, creaking as I don it, the smell of the leather mixing with the smell of my body soap, toothpaste and aftershave. I throw my bag over my shoulder, multiple key chains jingling from the bag (this serves no practical use, I just like the sound and the key chains), tuck a travel mug of coffee into the bag, grab my cane and head off to meet the day.

“Route 21 to Prospect AVE” says the automated voice coming from the city bus as it pulls up in front to me. I know when the bus is approaching my stop, for I have memorized the numerous streets that are called out by the automated system, as well as the turns and pathways the bus takes.

Looking down the aisle of a city bus.

“75th and Prospect” says the bus, as I rise from my seat and step down and onto the pavement. Locating the cross walk, I press the large button and wait for that voice to inform me that it is safe to cross, also relying on the sounds of surging traffic parallel to me, and idling traffic perpendicular to me. Once on the other side of the street, I walk past several parked cars, the sounds of the morning fall breeze and other noises moving around them, letting me know that they are there.

Once in my office building, the steady tapping sound of my cane bounces off the walls, hallway intersections, the sound changing as it moves through open doorways and is stopped by closed ones. Strolling through the lobby, my cane moving from side to side in front of me, it moves from tile to carpet, the sound of the cane tip changing as it does so. I walk past the break room, the sound of my tapping cane echoing through the large space, smelling the microwaved leftovers and industrial coffee that, frankly, can’t be as good as what I hear sloshing around in my travel mug with each step. My cane tip now rolls across the smooth floor, producing a low gliding sound as it does so. The loud churning sounds of the office products assembly lines are on my left as I walk toward my office, as well as the sounds of large industrial machinery and the smell of hot adhesive tape coming from the plastics warehouse.

Throughout my day I will use a myriad of sounds and voices to complete my job duties and other tasks. My computer talks as I type, reading me everything that is on the screen, as does my cell phone. I have different notification sounds set on my phone, signifying a text message, an email, or just a general notification, like ESPN letting me know that the Royals just acquired a new relief pitcher.

Cameron is in the call center and turns from his computer for a moment.

Arriving home after a hard day’s work, I always make sure that my house is never quiet. As I cook my dinner and clean my home in preparation for the arrival of my two small children the next day, a baseball game might be playing on the radio, the sounds of cracking bats, snapping gloves, cheering crowds and calls of “strike”, “out”, or “safe” being some of my favorites in the world. If there is no baseball to be had however, then perhaps another sport of choice. The cracking of pads in football or squeaking of sneakers and bouncing of a basketball. Meanwhile, I use a spatula to push a grilled cheese around in a frying pan, for the bread makes a different sound and produces a different smell once it is perfectly toasted

Now that the sports of the evening have concluded, I will place the needle on a vinal, perhaps a jazz record of “In a Sentimental Mood” featuring Duke Ellington on piano and John Coltrane on tenner saxophone, or perhaps something a little more upbeat such as the Beatles “Hard Day’s Night” with John Lennon and Paul McCartney on vocals, George Harrison on lead guitar and Ringo Star on drums and the cow bell, the warm scratching and hissing sound of the needle in the grooves of the record. The music fills the house as I go about my evening, the wooden floors of my home groaning and creaking as I walk about.

With my chores completed, I could watch a movie or TV show, utilizing the audio descriptive services that are now included with most shows and films, but instead I put the tip of a lighter to the hardened wick of a candle and ignite it, waiting for the crackling sound and accompanying heat that tells me that the candle is lit. Taking the candle in one hand and a warm mug of tea in the other, I adjourn to my back porch.

The sounds of a Kansas City evening surround me as I sit on my back porch. The melodies of crickets chirping, dogs barking, children playing, the wind rustling the bushes on either side of my porch, the wind chimes that hang from my gutter swaying and tinkling in the breeze, and the crackling of my candle that smells of cedar wood. I lay back in my chair, close my useless eyes, and turn on my dramatized audio book, complete with music, sound effects and a full cast, transporting me to another world, accept in that world, I can see.