<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xml:lang="en">

    <title type="text">Culture Making Articles items tagged speech</title>
    <subtitle type="text">Culture Making Articles:Writing on Christianity and culture from Andy Crouch</subtitle>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://culture-makers.com/" />
    <link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="https://culture-making.com/tag/atom" />
    <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
    <rights>Copyright (c) 2025, Andy Crouch</rights>
    <generator uri="http://www.pmachine.com/" version="7.5.15">ExpressionEngine</generator>
    <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:01:02</id>

    <entry>
      <title>Multi&#45;touching</title>
      <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://culture-making.com/post/multi-touching" />
      <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:author/1.1622</id>
      <published>2025-01-02T22:53:00Z</published>
      <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
      <author>
            <name>Andy Crouch</name>
            <email>andy@culture-making.com</email>
            
      </author>

      <content type="html"><![CDATA[
        
			
			
			

			<b>Nate: </b><em>?I wound up on this product's page in the iPhone App Store on a whim—wanting to see what exactly a $149.99 application was doing in a 99-cent ecosystem. I delved into the customer reviews (one of the rising literary forms of our era) and realized that: a) nearly every reviewer was giving the product five stars; b) nobody was mentioning the price except to say how cheap it was, and c) this may have been the first and only time the App Store has made me want to smile and to cry at the same time.?</em><br />

<div class="author" style="font-size: -1">customer review for <a href="http://www.proloquo2go.com/">Proloquo2Go</a> (<a href="
http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewSoftware?id=308368164&mt=8">itunes store link</a>), 4 August 2009 :: see also "<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/15/technology/15speech.html?hpw">Insurers Fight Speech-Impairment Remedy</a>," by Ashlee Vance, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/15/technology/15speech.html?hpw"><i>The New York Times</i></a>, 14 September 2009</div><hr />		
		<div style="float:right; padding:15px 5px 5px 5px"><img src="http://culture-making.com/media/iPhone_Portrait_0708_227-dc896.jpg" alt="image"></div><p>????? My daughter is 23 and has been using augmentative communication devices since she was a little girl. We have used devices from several different companies, so we are pretty experienced. This is, by far, the easiest to program. There are lots of preprogrammed categories, so it is possible to start communicating right away, without doing anything other than downloading it. ... After years of dragging around a 4–7 pound communication device that looks sort of &#8216;clinical&#8217;, it&#8217;s really cool to have a small iPod touch and a speaker (all of 15 ounces!) to bring with us. ... My daughter has enough things to separate her from her peers. It&#8217;s nice to have something for a change that&#8217;s the same as other people are using. Can&#8217;t say enough good about it!!!</p>
		
	
			
			
			

		
      ]]></content>
    </entry>    <entry>
      <title>We speak volumes</title>
      <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://culture-making.com/post/we_speak_volumes" />
      <id>tag:culture-makers.com,2025:author/1.1244</id>
      <published>2025-01-02T22:53:00Z</published>
      <updated>2025-01-03T22:54:05Z</updated>
      <author>
            <name>Andy Crouch</name>
            <email>andy@culture-making.com</email>
            
      </author>

      <content type="html"><![CDATA[
        
			
			
			

					<b><p>Nate</p>: </b><em>?From my current morning reading, the 1987 Booker Prize novel.?</em><br />
		
		<p>Today language abandoned me. I could not find the word for a simple object—a commonplace familiar furnishing. For an instant, I stared into a void. Language tethers us to the world; without it we spin like atoms. Later, I made an inventory of the room—a naming of parts: bed, chair, table, picture, vase, cupboard, window, curtain. Curtain. And I breathed again.</p><p>We open our mouths and out flow words whose ancestries we do not even know. We are walking lexicons. In a single sentence of idle chatter we preserve Latin, Anglo-Saxon, Norse; we carry a museum inside our heads, each day we commemorate peoples of whom we have never heard. More than that, we speak volumes—our language is the language of everything we have not read. Shakespeare and the Authorized Version surface in supermarkets, on buses, chatter on radio and television. I find this miraculous. I never cease to wonder at it. That words are more durable than anything, that they blow with the wind, hibernate and reawaken, shelter parasitic on the most unlikely hosts, survive and survive and survive.</p><hr />
<div class="author" style="font-size: -1">from <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_Tiger">Moon Tiger</a>,</i> by Penelope Lively (1987), pp.40–41</div>		
	
			
			
			

		
      ]]></content>
    </entry>

</feed>