Turn Up the Quiet

Article Tools

Print

E-mail

Comments

RSS

One guy's quest for sonic bliss and a good night's sleep

Is your world getting noisier? Pealing cell phones, blaring personal stereos, constant chatter -- sometimes it can be difficult to endure the relentless drone of modern life. But beneath the racket, there's still a creative and natural soundscape all around you -- the music of nature, the laughter of friends and neighbors, even the sound of your own inner voice. Perhaps listening to what really matters will soothe your soul. -- The Editors

I blame it on my parents.

When I was 10 years old my father built a bedroom in the basement of our family's split-level ranch house in small-town Wisconsin. I can't recall what expression was most popular with my sixth-grade friends the day I moved into that 12- by 14-foot space -- hot, sweet, cool, awesome, or rad -- but it was all that: red shag carpet, faux brick paneling, and custom-made shelves for my beer can collection and baseball cards. In the winter, a small furnace in the basement kept the space cozy. After running up a summer sweat, I could seek relief in the cool, cellarlike damp.

Best of all, it was downstairs, a peaceful distance from my pestering younger brother and totally annoying older sister. At night it was always pitch black save for a night-light in the bathroom and, since my father believed in the money-saving properties of sturdy insulation, as quiet as a tomb.

I lived in that room until I graduated from high school in 1985. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep since.

The privileged son of silence, I entered the noisy wild an acoustic innocent. I knew living in Minneapolis as a cash-strapped college student would mean close quarters, older buildings, and a more communal atmosphere. I didn't know that cheaper housing was statistically linked to mind-numbing noise pollution: that city planners insensitive to the needs of lower-middle-class citizens typically build two-lane highways through neighborhoods designed for the horse and buggy, or that airport runways literally begin and end in people's backyards. I didn't expect that construction crews and street sweepers would rattle and hum before sunup, while schoolchildren and working families tried in vain to rest.

RSS | Comments | E-mail | Print