Listen with your Eyes

“…Listen with your Eyes…”
I recall with clarity a formative moment for my identity that happened just over fourteen years ago. I remember my doctor explaining and then showing on a cross-section diagram exactly what was wrong with my right ear. I remember nearly all of what he said next, mostly because I have had to keep it in mind every day of my life since. He told me how I needed to be careful all the time, and that I was going to have to compensate for the hearing loss by using my eyes to look out for possible danger (see title) and training my other ear to listen constantly for specific sounds like cars and sirens. He told me to be up-front with people about my hearing, and to sit in the front row in my classes.
Not all memories serve to define a person or become part of his or her identity; memories such as above, however, usually do. I would love to say I remember the doctor’s office clearly, but the truth is I only remember the exam room, my mother tearing up, the dialogue, and the diagram of the inner ear the doctor was pointing to (the cochlea, to be specific; one of mine is malformed). The things I took away from that conversation are unquestionably a large part of my identity; I have had to keep them in mind constantly, because the consequences of not doing so could be anything from having trouble carrying on a conversation at dinner to being hit by a car I did not hear pulling out. Memory is the process by which we catalog the things we learn from experience and incorporate that knowledge into our day-to-day interactions with the world.
Neil Spataro
English 289-014