Yesterday I saw a woman in Publix who looked suspicious, by which I mean she seemed awfully serene for someone buying $200 worth of groceries at 6 p.m.
She didn’t look the least bit rushed or anxious. In fact, she was nodding her head and smiling slightly.
I sneaked a quick glance at her cart to see if she’d cracked open a bottle of wine. Then I saw the earphone wires emerging from her long dark hair.
She was listening to her iPod, and I understood her immediately.
Sometimes life can be overwhelming. Certainly it’s noisy. Haven’t we all occasionally wished we could block out the irritations of a busy world?
I don’t know if this woman was listening to Carlos Santana or French for tourists, but she was calm and content, moving languidly, as if she’d just come from yoga and was still in the zone.
I, on the other hand, was late for an appointment, hustling down the aisles, grabbing items, maneuvering around slower shoppers, mentally calculating my purchases and wondering if I had enough cash to get an extra carton of eggs.
I have an iPod Shuffle. I wear it only when I’m working out. Sometimes I listen to music—the Kinks, Big Daddy Weave, Art Garfunkel--sometimes to Spanish lessons, podcasts or readings by my favorite authors.
I dislike noise, as most sane people do. Here are some sounds I could live without. (Most of them can’t be avoided, but I guess that’s what earplugs are for.)
Garbage trucks.
Wailing babies
A washing machine on spin cycle.
Lawn mowers.
Jet Skis.
Motorcycles.
Anybody yelling anywhere.
Road construction.
Weed-eaters.
The high-pitched bawling of a chain saw.
Lawn tractors.
Jackhammers.
Cars with faulty mufflers.
TV commercials.
Sirens.
Ringing telephones that go unanswered.
Barking dogs.
Coughing.
Bulldozers.
Heavy traffic.
Snoring.
Video games.
Hydraulic brakes.
Low-flying planes.
Loud rap.
Whistles.
Electric saw.
A truck backfiring.
Clown horns.
Mel Gibson saying anything.
Then there are my favorite sounds. I’ll bet you love some of these, too:
Bathwater running.
Seagulls.
Muted voices in public libraries.
Sizzling butter.
The tide.
Snap, crackle and pop.
The muffled click of computer keys.
Hoofbeats.
My dog grumbling in her sleep.
Eggs being cracked.
My brother’s voice.
The Nicene Creed.
Thunder.
The clink of silverware.
Rain.
An oven door opening.
Horses eating hay.
Organ music.
The creak of hardwood floors.
“You’ve got mail!”
Mama laughing.
Bicycle tires on wet asphalt.
Purring.
Ka-CHING!
Widdle gargling.
A busy signal.
Milk being poured.
Silk rustling.
Confession: I do have an advantage in the noise wars--namely, 35 percent hearing loss in both ears. Audiologists don’t know why—it’s not like I was a roadie in a rock band or my granddaddy was deaf by 35. It’s just one of those things…but it does have advantages.
When life gets too loud I smoothly remove the hearing aid from the ear nearest the noise and no one’s the wiser.
Occasionally, at a booming concert or action movie, I have to remove both. Then I just read lips, knowing that everyone around is going a little deaf… just like me.
Julie R. Smith, who’s trying to drown out the little voices in her head, can be reached at widdleswife@aol.com.