Deaf American Prose 1830-1930

By Their Signs Ye Shall Know Them

242 James F. Brady James F. Brady* c By Their Signs Ye Shall Know Them A RAG-MAN’S DOG and a millionaire’s dog meet and begin to go through preliminaries that seem to be general with canines: bodies erect, suspicious, face-to-face sniffing, round and round maneuvering, more sniffing, dropping of hostility, wagging of tails. They are getting acquainted. The next time the breezes waft the smell of a rag shop the millionaire’s dog kyi’s [sic] to the spot where his acquaintance happens to be. They sniff once more and the millionaire’s dog says: “How are you, Rag-man’s Aroma?” The other replies: “All right, Lice medicine.” They know each other by smells. A youngster meeting another for the first time is shy, but gradually they become thick. One takes out of his pocket an assortment that is the prize possession of all boys. A broken knife, a nail, a cigar stump, a small looking glass, etc., etc. “Whatcher got?” Out from different recesses in his clothes the other boy takes a half-finished stick of licorice, a generously-sucked remnant of what originally was a miniature barber pole in colors, a top, a jack, a marble, etc., etc. They swap, tell confidential stories and in other ways get on famously. James and John are their baptismal names, but they are to each other Jim and Jack, or Reddy and Curly. A man on a train craves to talk and makes bold to pick up a conversation with the one sitting by his side. He starts with comments of the weather, business, the chorus girl he seen, etc. “Mr. Acher—what did you say your name was?” “Smith, John Smith, of Oskooloska, Minnesota.” “Thanks, mine is Timothy O’Brien, of Pacudah, Kentucky.” They become better acquainted and perhaps become life-long friends. It is interesting to look back to beginning of events. When I went to the Mt. Airy School I was not very glad to be sent there among the “dummies,” some of whom I had seen about the city—the butts of the passersby— because of their signs and grimaces. It was quite a while before I became reconciled to my fate. And in no time I picked up the sign language. For James F. Brady’s biography, please see p. 228. “By Their Signs Ye Shall Know Them” is from The Silent Worker 38, no. 9 (June 1926). By Their Signs Ye Shall Know Them 243 In lieu of spelling out their names, the boys gave me their signs. One said he was Curved Nose, another Curly Hair, another proudly introduced himself by a sign which denoted the effect of a weak bladder, another answered to Strawberry on the neck. An Ethiopian had the sign that obtains everywhere, but we had several with us and they had an additional sign to differentiate them. Did anyone have hanging appendages that commanded the tribute of a second sight, he had an ear sign. Aural defects were not overlooked; on the contrary, they were emphasized. Was he ignorant of the use of the handkerchief or had he the abominable vice of picking his nose? The little boys were aware of it and bestowed upon him the signs advertising his disobedience of the rule of etiquette. A concave front and a concave back, a lame leg, a physical build along the lines of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, a head resting several degrees on the wrong side of the neck. An eye missing, teeth out of alignment, an adenoidal facie, a prominent chin and one of inverse quality, and various other marks that Nature left with the recipients—one and all resulted in “name signs.” Certainly there were boys who had no physical deformities and they were colorless in other respects. But wait. At a breakfast, one such had the misfortune to drop some hen fruit on his bosom. Naturally he grew up with the sign of Egg on Shirt. One other had a passion for pomme de terre, that mysterious food on French menus, and he was forthwith Potato Eater. Did fond mamma send me a box of golden fruit every week, then the kid was signed Orange. Came a boy to the school accompanied by parents sporting earrings and with an aroma suggesting macaroni and garlic he answered to Dago. Were the parents Israelites , the kid was known by an itching on the chin. We often met with a horny handed papa...