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This blog is a grudge
fest. Blame it on the fever I’ve had off and on this past week. I may be delusional
at this point. So if you’re looking for lighter reading fare you might want to
check on the old man who lives at the top of the granite towers on the bottom
of Mechanic Street who writes a column for the Courier; or our friend, E.O., who writes a blog for the BDN.
This discourse is an
attempt to explain the difference between sound and noise. We all have sounds
around us every day. However, when those sounds become irritating to you we
call that NOISE!
Listen up all you rap
fans out there who run around with your pants down around your knees and your
underwear sticking out for all to see. When you park in front of my apartment
and turn up your despicable rap music (if you can call it music) and it spews
out of 1000 lb. speakers mounted in the trunk of your car at who knows how many
decibels, TURN IT DOWN. Better yet, TURN IT OFF. No one wants to hear that
stuff.
I read a book by Michael
Crichton called Timeline. Published
in November 1999, it tells the story of a group of history
students who travel to 14th Century France to
rescue their professor. A scene in the book that really struck me was when this
group was standing in an open field. The leader of the group asked the rest to
listen for a minute. “What do you hear?” They stood quietly and listened and
were suddenly amazed at what they heard, nothing.
They heard a few sounds from nature, but otherwise than that there was no
engine noise, no overhead airplane noise, no traffic noises made by combustion
engine-run vehicles; simply nothing. Can you even imagine what that would be
like?
With that scene in mind, jump forward to the present and my apartment in
the city again. I would like to know what lame-brained engineer (had to be a
man) set up all six heat pumps, count ‘em six, which service my section of this
building, right outside my bedroom window. As these pumps also run for the AC
in the summer, guess what? I have to learn to live with them when I’m trying to
sleep.
I’m a person who likes quiet when they sleep. For the most part this
building is quiet at night as far as people activity goes, but coping with the
heat pumps is about to drive me crazy. I’ve tried ear plugs, cotton ball plugs,
earphones hitched up to the radio and shear grit. On any given night I have a
50-50 chance of really getting to sleep. I have to be really tired not to hear
anything.
During the day, however, I’m one of those people who like to have some kind
of background noise on when I’m alone. They call that “white noise.” I
especially like to have some music on while I’m working, especially writing.
Right now I have the Sirius radio on the 50s channel. When they banned
earphones at my last job I cried. The phones closed out the rest of the noise
around me so that I could concentrate on the job at hand. I’m not sure I did
such a great job after that. Good thing I retired before they noticed.
There are times when I’m
stressed about something that I long for those sounds I enjoy the most.
Probably many of these are on your list too: the purring of a cat as they sleep
by your pillow (no, Butchie won’t do that); a baby’s laughter; music from my
past; the sound of wind through the trees by the Maine shore; the sound of
waves, especially at high tide, as they break upon the shore when you are
sleeping at night in a cottage down in Spruce Head; and the sound of rain on a
skylight or on the roof of an open beam cottage, especially in Spruce Head.
The only thing I can
hope for at this point is a final resting place for this old head in my own
home once again in a quiet restful setting. I can dream, can’t I (that is if I
can get to sleep).
Thanks for listening.
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