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 ![[----------------Horizontal Rule----------------]](/webart/hrule.gif){kind=small}  3.Speaking out through on-line servicesWhen I was eight years old I discovered a short wave radio in the attic. It was made of sheet metal, and it made a great sound when I banged it on the side, but I soon learned to use it for things other than drumming. I discovered that the "Green Monster," as I called it, pulled in stations half way around the world. I also discovered the world of amateur radio. People actually sat in front of microphones in their homes and talked with folks in other parts of the country. I was thrilled. It was even more exciting to discover that all these people were listed in a big, fat book, along with their station’s call letters. I wanted a copy of that book and I nagged my mother until she bought it for me. I spent my afternoons transfixed in front of the "Green Monster," trying to pull in stations I’d picked at random from that big, fat book. "My God," I would squeal to myself, " today I actually pulled in Arizona." But I soon grew tired of this electronic voyeurism: I wanted to participate. I spent hours going over the electronics until I felt I was ready to take the exam for the basic radio operator’s license. Then someone pointed out a flaw in my plan." Michael," he said as he slowly slipped an arm around my shoulder," when you speak, you sound as if you’ve got a ball of cotton in your mouth. I can hardly understand you when you are sitting next to me." It was true: Although I knew all the rules of the road to operate an amateur radio station, I lacked the one essential item to get on the air: an understandable voice. This did not deter my determination to somehow get on the air: I tried to learn Morse code. Six months with the dots and dashes proved to be of little value. In the end, I could only get my transmission speed up to two words per minute, not nearly fast enough to get my operator’s license. So my dreams of becoming an amateur radio big shot floated away into the air, and I moved on to other boyhood pastimes-like baseball. I got my first computer in 1979. With it I discovered the joys of word processing. Then somebody suggested I hook up my computer to a modem so it could talk to other computers. I had a hard time understanding why my computer would even want to talk to those other machines out there. And what would it say after it said,"Hello?" It was years later that I actually did hook up a modem to my computer, and I did it out of necessity. I was in graduate school and was taking courses that required extensive use of all the campus libraries and computers. Since time on the campus computer terminals was a very competitive matter, I needed a way to access the university computers from my home: I was forced into buying a modem.
No student with a disability should buy a computer without a modem to go with it. Not only could I access the campus computer from my computer from my home, I could get into the campus library’s electronic card catalog, too. I could do library work from home, on my own; and I soon discovered I could prepare extensive bibliographies just by downloading the citations from electronic card catalogs to my personal computer, thus saving me hours of tedious typing. Things were getting very exciting now. But I didn’t know how exciting things would get until I took a course on management of special libraries. Part of the course covered the advantages and pitfalls of office automation, and the professor had wired the entire class into a local area network. Every student had the capability of sending and receiving electronic mail (e-mail) to and from every other member of the class, including the professor. I soon discovered that this arrangement gave me the opportunity to participate in class, as I never had before. Prior to e-mail, I would type my comments at home and hand them to the professor in class the next day. This process often did not work well because the professor might be too busy to read my note immediately, and notes would often get lost. Neither of these problems existed with the computer network. I could respond to what happened in class within hours of its end, and I would almost always get a reply to my comments the next day. Students and professors began to see me as a contributing class member. When I am out in the community and I try to communicate with someone whom I have just met, a lot of energy of the communication gets soaked up while my listener is trying to deal with my disability; but when I post a message on a LISTSERV or send e-mail, I know my ideas will be considered on their own merits, because the readers of my messages do not know I have a disability unless I choose to reveal this fact to them. My experiences have convinced me that this is a wonderful way for people with dysarthic speech to communicate with the outside world. I am realizing a boyhood dream. No, I’m not talking over the "Green Monster," but it’s a damn good equivalent. I hope to see you on—line soon. This article appears in AS Volume 2, # 3. You may order this issue by clicking on Ordering Home Page Online Ordering 
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