As soon as the plastic sheeting came off the first window, the atmosphere changed. After a bang or two and lots of heaving, I prop open the wooden frames that have been sealed with tape and plastic for winter. Breezes and blossom and newly mown lawn scents flow through the house. And noise. So much noise!
There are construction sounds from endless roadwork, trucks plowing up and down I-95 and a steady whoosh of cars. Lawnmowers and the hated leaf blowers are back in action. Some days, there’s the barking dog (no longer mine) and the crack of bats on baseballs from the nearby field. And just now, a siren of an ambulance careening through the neighborhood followed by the 6:55 morning train whistle stopping to pick up commuters into the city. It’s not as bad as the constant racket that’s the background noise to every telephone conversation I have with my sister in NYC, but it’s still urban cacophony.
In time, I grow used to the sounds of summer and adore the airy lightness in my home with doors and windows open and space between inside-outside, blurred. (Although after a chipmunk scurried across my living room last week, I’ve become a more cautious about leaving the back door open!) I am sad when it becomes time to close up when it grows chilly. And likewise, I feel a little shock when taking down insulation, ending the-almost silence in opening the house in spring. And why is the ice cream truck playing bad Christmas music?
I have become increasingly sensitive to sound even as my hearing deteriorates with age. This I can measure by watching television with my daughter: How can you hear what they’re saying, I ask as I crank up the volume. My tolerance for socializing in a crowded setting is low – restaurants and bars not so much fun. I hate having to scream and strain to hear what someone is saying over music. Listening to music is mostly done while driving although when I need to pay close attention, like going in reverse, I turn it off.
Silence is tough to find and sometimes, it’s what I crave more than anything. A reason to move to the country, live in the woods. Or at least visit more often, disappear into a forest and listen to the trees. Noise is one of the top reasons I never want to live in NYC again.
Who else here remembers this commercial?
Am I turning into a crank or what?
I have a man cave sound-resistant studio in the basement as I have had all my life- Can’t believe how I would have lived this long without one- Wishing you happiness
I love the way that Midas doesn’t over-promise. “We usually only take half an hour” – it’s quite refreshing. I’m fortunate that my neighborhood isn’t too noisy – and my house has plaster walls, rather than sheet rock – and is a great noise insulator….
As always, I love your writing. I can relate to sound sensitivity. Especially now, as I’ve been taking an ASL class, and watched the movie CODA last night. Thinking a lot about hearing. On Sunday, while attempting to clean up several storage carts outside, the air was filled with cacophany of erratic table saw cuts resonating from my neighboring yards. Just when the silence settled in, my noisy AC would start rattling away. Thankfully, it’s scheduled for service on the 14th. Not soon enough. Today, it’s just me and the birds.
ah, the birds! I loved CODA and how cool you’re learning ASL. xxx
Hi! Loved your piece and the commercial – an unexpected segue in both. I was fully expecting a poetic symphony about the sounds of birds…and then came the leaf blowers and ambulance siren! As you said, in the car I often choose silence over the radio – solitude and quiet….a gift. Big hugs! XO
All these layers of sound some sweet some sour