Where is a Librarian when you need one?

By Peter Farmer

Remember when you were a kid and trying to finish that overdue book report at the library? When you got distracted – as you inevitably did – and started talking or goofing off, what happened? A librarian with eyes and ears like a hawk would swoop in and tell you to ‘hush up’ or to please be quiet. Properly chastened, you returned to your studies more often than not. Such occurrences annoyed me no end as a teen, but now I look back on them with a different kind of perspective. I didn’t recognize at the time that the librarian was providing a useful service: preserving an oasis of calm in an otherwise noisy world. And people need such places to retain their sanity.

Perhaps this writer is simply getting grouchy in his middle age, but it seems that there are fewer places than ever where one can go without quickly having ones senses assaulted by advertisements, TV, music, beeps, buzzes, and other completely extraneous noises. Overlaid upon all of this are noises that are – to coin a phrase - ‘the sound of work being done.’ People using jackhammers, cars and trucks with engines revving, planes flying overhead, people talking or shouting instructions and so forth add to the cacophony. At least the latter type of environmental noise has the virtue of accomplishing something as a byproduct of its generation, or so we hope. The former type cannot be called anything but noise pollution.

An otherwise excellent health club patronized by this writer is flawed by only one fault: It plays the same dozen or so songs over-and-over again, day after day. At least they don’t pipe it into the steam room and the pool, thank goodness. But one is forced to wear one’s own music player and headphones simply to counteract the terrible music the club plays. You’ve heard of defensive driving? This is defensive music. Suggest something new or even ask for simple silence at the service desk, and one gets a reply something like, “We can’t turn this off; Sting is a genius!” In the old days – thirty or so years ago – most drug stores, grocery stores, restaurants and other commercial establishments didn’t play music all of the time. The occasional ones that did – think of going shoe shopping at the department store with your Mom – played easy listening music, designed to be unobtrusive. The classier department stores had a piano player quietly keying out standards or perhaps some classical music. It was all very civilized, if somewhat staid.

One cannot always escape into the car for silence, either. Pull up at an intersection – especially on a Friday or Saturday night in the summer – and you are liable to be rocked by the sound system in the car next to you. One so loud that it literally makes your car shake and your teeth vibrate. In the suburbs where I live, if one looks over in disapproval, one more often than not simply gets a smirk or possibly an obscene gesture. In some inner city neighborhoods, the response is quite possibly a gunshot in your direction. So, this writer should be grateful to be in one piece, I suppose. Besides, even if that teenager turns down the stereo to merely thunderous instead of earthshaking, his car exhaust is still tuned to be as loud as possible! Even if by some miracle you enjoy a moment of calm, the silence is sure to be shattered by the local Harley Davidson club thundering by en masse. This writer can’t win, it seems. Once upon a time, police officers used to write citations for excessive noise. ‘Disturbing the peace’ they called it. Ooops – I forgot – there’s no peace left to disturb, is there?

Before writing me off as a decrepit old relic, let me remind you that I occasionally like loud music myself and play two musical instruments. My music collection is - no lie - big enough to run a radio station – and it is real music and not this jackhammer stuff. In college, I hosted a radio program. I love good music; it is one of life’s great joys. Yes, I like classical and jazz, even if it does date me immediately to say so. But I also love silence, or at least a reasonable facsimile of it, after a hard day. I love being able to hear the occasional bird chirping, or the rustle of the wind in the trees.

This writer is not so naïve to believe that his somewhat esoteric and even obscure musical tastes will become mainstream ones any time soon. But here are some modest proposals: The next time you are on the way to the ‘Head-Bangers Ball’ and pull up to a stoplight, why not give the people in the next car a break and turn it down just a little bit? If you own a fabulous stereo and want to play it at earthquake-generating levels, perhaps do so when the neighbors are on vacation. Better yet, invest in some high-quality headphones and go deaf to your heart’s content. That, or at least be considerate enough to soundproof your home. You’d make this writer – not to mention your neighbors - so very happy, and you might just save your hearing in the process. Who knows? Perhaps one day you’ll want to listen to something besides Fifty-cent or whoever is the latest rap craze! You do want your hearing to be functional when that day arrives, don’t you?

Thanks for letting me vent. I feel better already. I can feel my blood pressure returning to normal. I’m now calm enough to recommend a stock tip. Invest in hearing aid manufacturers; there’s going to be a run on the things when the current generation gets older. All of you audiologists and physicians dependent upon the hearing-impaired for income, rest assured. You can go ahead and start construction on that second home or go buy that sporty car you’ve always wanted. You’ve got a steady stream of clients assured for years to come!

Now, where is that librarian when I need her?