If you like the sound of something, we often say it’s “music to my ears.”
If you don’t like something, it’s just “noise.”
Summer comes packed with it. There is actual music coming from venues as various as the Interlochen Arts Academy, patios outside area bars and restaurants, even the guy in the convertible pumping “Uptown Funk.”
And then there’s the mechanical noises coming from the airway traffic, the highway traffic, the waterway traffic, the random car alarm down the street, the neighbors a/c compressor and any other number of places. And no “sound” discussion would be complete without a summer shout-out to those who try improving on northern Michigan summer night skies by shooting fireworks into them.
There’s all of that, and then there’s this; the older I get, the more I appreciate finding a nice quiet spot. Where once I sought the busy, the stimulating, the hubbub and the boom boom, I find myself now heading in the opposite direction from the din.
But good luck trying to find a naturally quiet place because while they’re out there here in northern lower Michigan, you sometimes have to hunt to find them.
For instance, last month we stumbled across a little marvel that crosses the Manistee River between the towns of Brethren and Mesick known as “Little Mac.” “Little Mac” is a suspension bridge that might be 100 yards across and wide enough for two people to pass comfortably. But its most impressive feature is its quietness. Aside from the soothing, constant rippling of the Manistee River, standing at its center you could hear nothing else. To stand mid-stream, just watching the water and listening to the nothingness, was to enjoy the best part of living in this part of the world.
I was playing golf last week at one of our finer resorts and as our golf cart entered certain parts of the course, the telemetry of the vehicles onboard guidance system told us that we were entering a residential neighborhood so please turn down our music. If you’re not a golfer, I tell you that blasting tunes from golf carts is a relatively new thing and just another modern day innovation that old duffers like myself have had to accommodate for. If you think adding loud tunes to the beauty of any local course is a good idea, we’ll just agree to disagree. Nevermind the idea that those golfers blasting the music actually need to be reminded that the nearby residents might appreciate a little quiet, too.
A couple of years ago I developed a decent case of tinnitus that the experts assure me is age-related. It’s usually not a problem but wherever I am, no matter what I’m doing, if I concentrate and “listen” for it, I can isolate the ringing deep inside my head. Compared to other age-related things it’s not much, but when all a guy wants is a little peace and quiet, it’s an ironic headache. The irony being that when this “round mound in search of no sound” lays his head down at night, he needs a little added “white noise” to mellow and mask that ringing.
As with most great things, like finding a nice quiet spot, the hunt is part of the pleasure. You can find solitude by sitting in a quiet room inside your house but my research reveals that the best quiet places are outside. Typically, somewhere along the way through the woods, along a beach, or around a bonfire, if you’ll stop to listen you might get lucky and hear practically nothing.