I took a deep breath and signed, “Hello, my name is Catherine. Can I help you?” The transformation in his face was immediate and profound. His eyes widened with surprise and relief, and a smile spread across his features. The first genuine smile I’d seen from him since he’d entered the building. “You sign,” he responded, his hands moving with the fluid grace of someone who had been using ASL for decades. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to think no one here would be able to understand me.
I’m so sorry you’ve been having trouble,” I signed back. “What can I help you with? I’m here to see my son, he explained, but I’m not sure how to reach him. I don’t have an appointment. And the young woman at the desk, he gestured toward Jessica, who was now helping someone else. She seemed very busy. “What’s your son’s name?” I asked. “I can help you find him.” The man paused for a moment, and I could see something complicated pass across his face, a mixture of pride and uncertainty.
Michael Hartwell, he signed finally. My heart nearly stopped. Michael Hartwell, the CEO of Meridian Communications, the man whose name was on the building directory, whose corner office occupied the entire top floor, whose rare appearances in the common areas of the building caused a ripple of nervous energy among the staff. “Mr. Hartwell is your son,” I signed, trying to keep my surprise from showing on my face. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I know he’s very busy, but I was hoping, well, I was in the neighborhood, and I thought perhaps I could see him for just a few minutes.
I could see the vulnerability in his expression, the way he was trying to appear casual about what was clearly an important visit. This was a father who wanted to see his son. And I realized with a growing sense of sadness that he probably didn’t feel entirely welcome in his own son’s workplace. Of course, I signed. Let me see what I can do. Would you like to have a seat while I make some calls? I guided him to the comfortable seating area in the lobby, making sure he had a clear view of me so we could continue communicating.
Then I faced my first major challenge. How does a lowly intern arrange a meeting between a visitor and the CEO of the company? I started with Mr. Hartwell’s executive assistant, a formidable woman named Patricia, who guarded access to the CEO like a dragon protecting treasure. When I called her extension, her voice was crisp and professional. Mr. Hartwell’s office. This is Patricia. Hi, Patricia. This is Katherine Walsh from the intern program. I have a visitor here in the lobby who says he’s Mr.
Hartwell’s father and he’d like to see him if possible. There was a long pause. His father? Yes, ma’am. An elderly gentleman, very well-dressed. He’s been waiting in the lobby. Another pause, longer this time. I’ll need to check with Mr. Hartwell. Can you have the visitor wait? Of course. Thank you. I hung up and returned to Mr. Hartwell, Robert, as he’d introduced himself to let him know that we were working on arranging the meeting. While we waited, we talked, or rather, we signed, and I discovered that Robert Hartwell was one of the most interesting people I’d ever met.
He told me about his career as an architect, how he designed several of the buildings that now made up Chicago Skyline. He told me about his late wife, Michael’s mother, who had been a teacher at the Illinois School for the Deaf. He told me about the challenges of raising a hearing son as a deaf parent, and the pride he felt in Michael’s success, even though they didn’t see each other as often as he’d like. “He’s always been driven,” Robert signed.
His expression a mixture of admiration and concern. Even as a child, he wanted to prove himself, to show the world that having a deaf father didn’t hold him back. I’m proud of what he’s accomplished, but sometimes I worry that he’s forgotten how to slow down, how to just be. As we talked, I became increasingly aware that we were drawing attention. Other employees were glancing our way, some with curiosity, others with what looked like annoyance. I could see Jessica at the reception desk fielding questions about why there was some kind of sign language conversation happening in the lobby.
20 minutes passed, then 30. Patricia called back to say that Mr. Hartwell was in back-to-back meetings and wouldn’t be available for at least another hour. I could see the disappointment in his eyes, though he tried to hide it. Perhaps I should come back another time, he signed. I don’t want to be a bother. You’re not a bother, I assured him. Would you like to wait a little longer? I can show you around the building if you’d like.
We have some beautiful artwork on the upper floors. His face lit up. I would love that. I haven’t seen where Michael works. And so began what would later be described as the most unauthorized building tour in Meridian Communications history. I should have been organizing presentation materials. I should have been making copies and updating spreadsheets. Instead, I spent the next two hours giving Robert Hartwell a comprehensive tour of his son’s company. We started with the creative department where I introduced Robert to some of the graphic designers and copywriters.
