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Corinne
A. Pollak
WELCOME INTO MY LIFE February2008.htm |
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Vet hears again after 48 years He much prefers the sweet twittering of the little chickadees who come to feed at the bird feeders he has hanging from the old white birch tree in front of his home. Or the wind chimes dangling from the eaves outside his door. Or the soft and steady rhythm of the clock ticking in his kitchen, a sound unheard by most people unless they are told to stop and focus. After reconciling himself to being deaf, Rotolo never dreamed he would hear these sounds again. But it was with the intervention of his close friend, Corinne Pollack, and one of her coworkers, Tex Seamon, that this improbability became Rotolo’s reality. After serving in the U.S. Army, Rotolo went on to enlist in the Air Force. In 1957, he was discharged with a hearing problem. “I could still hear a little bit, but by the mid-60s I needed a hearing aid. By the 70s it went altogether,” he said. Since then he has learned to live in a world void of music, his children’s laughter and the excited squeals and shouts of joy that come with their first achievements. He has learned how to cope with the difficulty of misunderstanding conversations, or at best, struggling to understand. “All of this time I could not hear I resigned myself to that fact,” he said, his voice melodious and soft. “As soon as you accept it, you’re able to move on,” he said, almost choking on the words. “I could hear them when they were little, but as they started to grow up I couldn’t hear them,” he said. “So you teach yourself to read lips.” Pollack and Rotolo met at the restaurant she and her husband once owned, when Rotolo would come in for breakfast frequently. Last year, she told Seamon about Rotolo, how he was a veteran and how he had been deaf most of his life. “She and Tex conspired to do this,” Rotolo said with a gleam in his eye as he pointed to Pollack. Since Rotolo’s wife, Priscilla, with whom he had five children, is in an adult care facility, Pollack went through the procedure by his side, beginning with doctor visits locally, then eventually heading down to Manhattan with him for the actual procedure. There are two ways a person can hear, Rotolo said, through the air or through bone. “I hear through the bone,” he said, taking the device from around his ear and detaching it from his head. The miracle machine that gave him back his hearing works on his left ear only and stays attached by looping around the ear. There is a microphone that magnetically connects to his head by way of a magnet surgically implanted in his skull behind his ear. The beeping of a machine during the first round of tests following his surgery was the first sound Rotolo heard. He was asked to raise his hand when he heard a beep and so he did. “The tears were rolling down his cheeks,” Pollack said. Besides hearing his grandchildren’s voices, birds and wind chimes, the best part about the whole procedure was that it was covered by his medical insurance. “And,” he said, “I can shut it off whenever I want.” He loves listening to Pastor Paul Messner sermons each Sunday at St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church in Laurens. “And the organ. He loves the organ music,” Pollack said, bursting with uncontainable joy, almost as if she were the one who had been released from this world of silence. Messner, the two recounted, finishing one another’s sentences in excitement, surprised them the day of Rotolo’s surgery, driving down to Manhattan to arrive at 7 a.m. “We were ‘kinda’ nervous about it,” Pollack said. “Then the phone rang, and it was (Messner) and he said, ‘Hi. I’m downstairs.’” “He came all the way down there to comfort me and pray with me,” Rotolo said, with tears in his eyes. He now has to go for checkups every three months. Soon it will be six months and then every year. But it’s well worth the effort, he said, noting that he recently talked to his son over the phone for the first time in decades. “My life has changed completely,” he said, still teary eyed. And if it wasn’t for those two, I’d still be here reading lips,” Rotolo said.
FROM SILENCE TO A WORLD OF HEARING!
This is a story about a man, who lived forty-eight years of his life unable to hear. That is right! Joe had been totally deaf for 48 years, unable to hear the birds, the wind and rain and his growing children. . . Joe grew up in Brooklyn, New York. For a time, Joe was the only child alone with his Mom, who he loved dearly. It is not clear what happened to his Dad, Joe does not remember his Dad and no one knows what happened to him. Joe’s Mom married and that is where Joe learned about hatred. His step Dad hated him with a passion, perhaps because he wasn’t his. Life was miserable. Joe was abused constantly. Joe somehow survived. His step Dad did father eight children- six girls and two boys! All of them can tell stories about how they too were abused. It was so bad that Joe was put in a home and remained there for a number of years till he was eighteen only to go back home, where his step Dad nearly succeeded in killing him with a knife wound in the chest. He survived. Joe enlisted in the Army National Guard, Rainbow Division serving 2 years and then enlisted in the Air Force serving in the Strategic Air Command working on B-47 bombers. He loved it, but never got the chance to fly. He was discharged for loss of hearing. He was not told what to do about his hearing. He tried hearing aids, but they did not help. Gradually his remaining hearing left him and he resigned to the fact that he was deaf. He did learn to read lips well and his speech was quite understandable. After leaving the service, Joe met sixteen year old Patty, a cute, little, energetic blonde. They got married and he worked hard to save enough money to get him and his family out of the city. In 1971 his dream came true and off they went with five children, four boys and a girl. They bought a Fix-Me-Up House in Milford, NY, and moved in. The job market in upstate New York was not good, Joe continued to work in Brooklyn, traveling back and forth a week at a time. This pattern continued for about three months. He survived the grueling trips back and back to the city. Finally he got a job here. Things were looking up now with money coming in to raise his family and pay bills. He needed to earn money to take care of his family and refurbish his home. After eighteen years of marriage, Patti thought the pastures were greener elsewhere and left Joe with the five children and took off with a former love interest. In time she returned and Joe took her back. The marriage was in deep trouble. Patty worked for a time as a trained caregiver and she was well liked. In 1991 stragity stuck, Patty had a severe stroke followed by two major surgeries. This changed their lives forever. After caring for her at home for ten years, it was decided by their now grown children that their Mom needed specialize care and their Dad needed a rest. She now lives a confined, restless life with her phone as her best friend calling family and friends regularly. Joe finds it hard to visit Patty. “She is not the woman I married now,” he would say. It is hard for me to see her this way.” Patty is neither well nor happy. She has been in several facilities over the last six years. Unable to work after his hearing loss, he lived a lonely life with his dog and occasional visitors. Then I came along. . . After Patti’s stroke, Joe lost all ambition. The work he started on refurbishing his home, stopped with unfinished plasterboard walls and bathroom and plywood floors. It is just as it was. He lived alone with his dog, Patchy. He didn’t go out much, except a trip to the China Buffet in Oneonta, his favorite restaurant. He was always home and he couldn’t use the phone, but the computer interested him. His most always was at his home and friends could always catch him there if they needed help. Joe and I had a chance meeting and from that day. We remembered that he and his buddy would sometimes come for breakfast at our Country Kitchen. I didn’t know he was deaf until he said,” Look at me when you talk to me, I am deaf”. I could understand him too. I was astonished with him. He was a marvel to me. I took an interest in him and decided to seek help. He was special. When I mentioned that we should check out the possibilities of hearing again, he was not interested. After all, he had resigned himself to being deaf and he was OK with it. It wasn’t until one summer afternoon, while visiting his son and his young family that Joe came to realize that there might be hope thorough Cochlear Implant. His son told him to go for it. ”You will be able to hear the birds and your grandson!” One day Patti called Joe’s home. Joe was outside so I took the message and told him when he came in. I didn’t know who she was. “Patti is my wife”, he said. She asked to see us, so we went together. I have been visiting at least once a week for some time. We have become special friends. Joe is a very strong man and well over six foot, weighing 245 pounds. He is a man of many talents. He has been a hobby gunsmith for 55 years and loves to hunt and target shoot. He also loves to garden, cook and eat and I have found out that it takes a lot of food to keep him going.. He enjoys boating and is looking forward to camping. He is a wonderful carpenter and started building oak cabinetry in the kitchen, but lost interest when his wife was sick. He will tackle any job, plumbing, electrical, and concrete to plastering. He also tackles his own car/truck repairs. etc.. He just did the brakes on my car and saved me $150.00! Tex Seaman, director of the Otsego County Veterans Agency in Cooperstown, and I share an office and one day I decided to talk to him about Joe, as Joe was a veteran. He immediately jumped aboard and started to check out the options, getting names, addresses and phone numbers. He found info on the Cochlear Implant on the computer and wrote down important info.. Tex also sought help from the Veterans Administration. Tex made contact with the Albany VA Hospital and Joe went for a hearing test, in fact a couple. We were able to ride on the county van. The result was unanimous- Joe was deaf. In a couple of weeks I had made contact with Betsy Bromberg, one of the audiologists at the Manhattan Cochlear Implant Center. Appointments were set in place and I accompanied him. We stayed with Joe’s younger brother over night. Betsy did extensive hearing test and found that Joe was indeed deaf in both ears, which made him a perfect candidate for an implant. Her opinion matched that of at the Albany VA Hospital. The fact that Joe once heard was a plus too. The wheels were put in motion, Tex following every move. The good GOOD NEWS is that Joe had the 4½ hour operation at the Manhattan VA Hospital on Dec.14, 2006, the last of 125 procedures done that year. Joe did not hear after the surgery and would have a month of healing before he would hear for the first time. I accompanied Joe to his appointment with Betsy at the Cochlear Implant Center. That day he would hear for the first time in 48 years. . . We were excited when we went for his first appointment at the Cochlear Implant Center. His audiologist, Betsy Bromberg was waiting. She had near 20 years experience working with folks like Joe and was just as excited as we were. She gave him an extensive hearing test to see if the implant was working. “Listen for a series of peeps and raise your hand when you hear”, she said. I sat and watched him as the first beep came. His eyes widen, and then next beep, they got bigger as he raised his hand again. On the third beep he said, “I hear it, I HEAR IT!” as he turned to me with tears in his eyes. In moments all three of us were crying. He is now the proud owner and user of his own word processor. His life and that of his family, has changed and it is an adventure every day. We went every two weeks to Manhattan Cochlear Implant Center on 23rd and First Ave. for fine tuning. Each time he heard better and better as Betsy’s expertise brought Joe back to a world of hearing. After the several two-week visits, Joe graduated to once a month. Soon it became once every three months and then six month and finally once a year for as long as he has his implant. Slowly, ever so slowly, Joe is hearing sounds he hadn’t heard for years. Sometimes he doesn’t know what they are. He then investigates. Shortly after he returned home from his first session, he was bugged by a sound, which turned out to be the second hand on his kitchen clock. His favorite sounds are those of his Chickadees. He has a number of feeders, which he made, hanging in the Birch trees in his front yard. He now has all kinds of birds coming to his feeders and he couldn’t be happier. He hears his grandchildren, the rain and the wind. He hears things that I don’t hear. In time he will be able to talk on the phone to his son in Florida or his sister and brother on Staten Island. I am sooooo glad for him. The tears flow uncontrollably at times. It has been wonderful for me to be part of this wonderful miracle that has happened to Joe. I am so thankful to GOD that HE was able to convince JOE to “Go for it”. From that point, GOD had his people in place that is what makes miracles . . . It has been about six months since Joe had the surgery and his life has changed. He is happy and even looking for a part time job. He is working on finishing his house and just planted a BIG garden. He is interested in living again. THANK YOU GOD! January 2007
“I have something for you,” she said, as she peeked over her scarf, which was wrapped high around her neck, with a matching floppy hat. “Something good is going to happen to you and I wanted to be the first to congratulate you.” Lady is physic and has the ability to see/feel the future. I had no idea what she was hinting about, but welcomed her in. Lady and I go back a number of years. I think it was about 1971, when I began writing “What’s Cookin’ in Hartwick?” for the Pioneer, a free weekly tabloid out of Richfield Springs, NY. At that time Lady was one of my boosters. She invited me to her home and studio in Fly Creek. She wanted to take a photo of me with an old box camera, which she bought at a thrift store in Utica. She called her endeavor-pictorial photography and she is good. She had an extensive background as a negative retoucher and a great knowledge of antiques and design. We had a great visit and then she took six photos, which put me in the time period of the Gibson Girl. One of those was chosen and she returned with it within a week or so. It now graces my website. She had all the costumes and antiques available to make it appear that I was older. I decided to do an article about her for the Daily Star, our only daily newspaper. It was received well and it spurred her new career off to a wonderful start. I unbundled her and then she slowly unwrapped the large, flat package she was so careful with. It was another large photo. She had taking about six poses in 1971 and this was one of them. I have incorporated into my website. I love it. The original hangs on the opposite wall from the first photo in my dining room. A hot cup of coffee warmed her up and then the phone rang. . . As Lady sipped her coffee, I answered the call to find it was Ed Goodpastor, owner and publisher of the GRIT, calling from Williamport, PA. He wanted my column for the GRIT. I was amazed. I told him I was already working for the Freeman’s Journal in Cooperstown and didn’t know what my boss would say. “Don’t worry, he will be happy for you”, he said. Call me Monday morning and we get things rolling.’ ”We talked for an hour. Everything was quiet and no one ventured in. It was like GOD had set this all up and there would be no interruption. So that was how it all got started. In the weeks that followed I had a number of conversations with Ed. He told me to send the same column that I wrote for the Journal and he would edit it for the weekly GRIT. I had no idea where this decision would take me. I guess your wondering how Ed came to call me. God only knows why I purchased a copy of the GRIT. At that time things were hard trying to service the public and raise three children on what business came in the door. I read and related to an article in the GRIT about an elderly couple in the state of Washington who were operating a small restaurant like we were. I wrote a letter to the GRIT, enclosing a copy of my weekly column and told Ed Goodpastor that although we were concerned about our future, we were gone make it no matter what. Ed related to it and called. The rest is history. . . Ed and I talked on the phone frequently and he said to send my column to him each week just as I did for the Freeman’s Journal, which still carried it. My first column would run in the April 2, 1982 issue of the GRIT. He was soo confident that I would say “YES”, he used the column I sent with my indicial letter. He asked for a photo and I sent the one that Lady Osterpeck had done for me, but he wanted a recent photo. I scrounged around and sent it in. He liked it and every week it appears with the column for the years I was with the paper. Ed told me to be prepared for acceptance from readers and he said, “They will love you.” Because I had been writing the column since 1971, I saw no problem, but WHAT A SURPRISE I GOT! Phone calls began to come in from all over the country and in a short time; people were coming to Hartwick to enjoy meeting us and having a bite to eat. Back then, they would ask what else was there to experience in this rural area. I would tell them that they were 11 miles from the Baseball Hall of Fame. I cheerfully gave them brochures of attractions and they were very thankful. Many wrote and told me that they enjoyed their visit. I felt like the Chamber of Commerce. . . I started a guestbook, which became one of five. I encouraged people to sign and write whatever they wanted. From time to time I reacquaint myself with the folks and REMEMBER their visit. It had been a wonderful experience, which lasted for several years.. In 1982, the GRIT was owned by a family for then 100 years old. As time passed the paper was sold to a syndique and changed drastically. A few columns were dropped and the space was used for more advertising. I was devastated and answered some 500 letters from readers, all my hand. I recovered from this in time. but it was very hard. I had to move on. |
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| Last Updated: March 9, 2008 | Site managed and hosted by Syllables |
MILFORD – What does wind chimes tinkling in the March breeze,
chickadees twittering around a bird feeder and a clock ticking on
the
wall all have in common? They are sounds that Milford resident and
U.S.
Air Force veteran Joseph Rotolo thought he would never hear again.
For 48 years, Rotolo has lived in a world of silence, learning how
to
read lips and never being able to appreciate the gift of hearing – a
gift most people take for granted. “When I cross the street
to get the
mail, I can hear if a car is coming half a mile away now,” Rotolo
said
with a broad grin. “I can hear the blue jays squawking. I don’t
like
them blue jays.”
It was a cold, icy, snowy day in early February of 1982 when Lady
Ostepeck drove into our parking lot at the Country Kitchen. She was
all bundled up as she made her way to the front door carrying a large,
flat item. ”What are you doing out in these frigid weather?” I
asked as I ushered her in where it was warm.