When John was 35 years old, his mother took him to the study.
“Son,” she said. “I have something to tell you that you do not know. You are deaf.” “Oh, no!” John cried in gestures or Cued Speech, his mother couldn’t tell. She concluded it was a morse code from the FBI. “Get out of my house! Get out! Now!” She was freaking out.
It may well be observed, dear readers, that there is no deaf individual who possesses a more intriguing and complex reality (other than the Wild Boy of Aveyron) like John McGregor.
John began nurturing the idea of being an actor when he was in the womb. He began performing at a well-known location, the Loma Linda Hospital in Santa Bernardino, California. Unfortunately, his (masterpiece) aria, “Crying in the Crib,” was ignored by the audience, mainly of nurses who seemed too busy with his mother at the moment of his debut. Because he was inconveniently disturbed, put on his mother’s lap and pushed away in a wheelchair out of the sliding doors, John was inundated with mixed reviews from the critics.
When John was 11 years old, sociologists, socio-psychologists, psychologists, and audiologists originally focused on his development, but were distracted by the numbers of letters in their titles.
One day, as if by lightning, John had an epiphany. He realized that he kept his watch on the wrong arm, his mother’s. But the most important thing was that he realized he was different, not like any other people. Loneliness overwhelmed him.
When John was 16 years old, he was sitting under an umbrella drinking coffee on a cool, lambent afternoon. He thought the coffee needed milk. Immediately, he set off towards home to see his mother. He was sent to a mental institution shortly afterwards.
Upon release, he was arrested for tipping his hat to stray dogs.
Desolate, John pondered about the mysteries of human existence. But then he met Patty. Sweet, chubby, with thick, pudgy hands and curly hair. “I’m destined to be a pole vaulter,” she told him at Starbucks, “but I keep breaking the damned stick.” He wondered why she kept moving her mouth, but enjoyed her company. One day, while trying to exhale into her mouth (based on his logical conclusion that she had trouble breathing), they kissed under a Maple tree. He was 19.
At 21, getting through the night was difficult for it was hard to sleep while sucking from his mother’s teat. “It used to be effortless,” John thought at another mental institution. Upon release, he was arrested for tipping his hat to himself. Confused beyond resolve, John took off hiking in the nearest National Park. It was time for introspection, mediation, soul-searching, self-reflection, Tai Chi, and yoga. Unfortunately, he fell asleep under a scorching sun. His body burned so red it was identical to the Maui soil. As his body was scooped and weighed, and packaged back to Maui, he thought about his own life.
A microchip (since his mother took him for a dog after birth) brought him back to the mainland, and immediately, he was introduced to the videophone (VP) and Deaf Standard Time (DST). John immediately grabbed a Playboy magazine to find definitions. Imagine his disappointment when he found that VP was misspelled as VD and DST was STD. Wise to his years, John resolved not to have anything to do with Deafhood and all it stood for. John had seen the ravages of poor health in mental institutions, so resolved to focus on wellness and a healthy life.
When John was 35 he was kicked out of the house. He decided to pursue a prosperous career: Showing his abs at the intersection not far from I-5 and I-805 for a dollar. Not long after, he was introduced to ABC cards and made a fortune.
And he cried at last, “Thank God for ABC cards!”