It’s golden.

I  am deep in the bosom of my family and it is a remarkably quiet place. I’m actually, slightly ,unnerved by the stillness of this bosom. It’s a damn near silent bosom. (It’s really too  bad that the word ‘bosom’ has fallen out of favour. You can tell a woman she has a ‘magnificent bosom’ without fear of retribution. It sounds like you’re elevating the status of her all-too-obvious assets to that of a national monument.)

Anyway, I am back in my suburban home for a spell after spending more than six months in the urban heart of the country’s biggest city. I am lying in my suburban bed (staring up at the headboard, which I crafted myself) and marvelling at the silence. There are no rumbling trucks, no honking horns, no barking dogs. There isn’t a single cricket!

The beautiful woman who has reclined beside me for more than 30 years (magnificent bosom) makes nary a sound herself. She has told me a frightening tale of a good friend who was recently diagnosed with sleep apnea…and so every once in a while I lean over and nuzzle an earlobe just to make sure my dearly beloved is still drawing uninterrupted breath.

There has always been a big joke in my family about how much I crave quiet. When we were raising our children it was a truly noisy home. There were decks on aircraft carriers that were more tranquil. Admittedly, much of this was my obsession and unrelenting (unreasonable perhaps?) quest for aural peace…. but part of it I blame on the clamshell.

The price of progress?

The plastic clamshell, which was invented by the packaging industry to keep food products like cookies and croissants intact, has been one of the great assaults on the tranquility of the past quarter century. Not only are these things all but impossible to crack open…with their molded, rock-solid, snap buttons…but the cacophony that ensues is deafening. I have ground enamel off my teeth listening to someone struggle with a clamshell and I hate it more than any other product on earth. I would put the clamshell ahead of the memory-laden, pre-kinked garden hose and the unloadable weed trimmer on my list of objects we should purge from the planet.

So I love the quiet. I revel in its restorative powers. I wrap it around me like a blanket. As I age, it’s all too possible that my hearing may fade…that the ironic ravages of time will leave me straining to hear the very input I have always found so annoying. But until then I will continue to seek the sounds of silence.

And take those cookies into the other room!


9 Responses to “Shhhhhhh!”

  1. Mornings just aren’t the same without you Dave:-(…………I’m happy to know that you are enjoying your break from the daily grind. My father hated noise too. We weren’t allowed to utter a sound at the dining table. Needless to say I detested dinner time. I’m a chatty person by nature.
    As for those nasty plastic containers for storing food I couldn’t agree more…………ban them for all eternity!
    take care,

    • Hey Gail. Well, I married one of the original chatty gals. She used to keep me on the phone for hours when we were both 16. Often, you’ll find that people who talk for a I do..simply cherish the silent time.

  2. Karen Deegan Says:

    Hello Dave – I miss seeing you in the morning – I’ve grown accustomed to your face! – very nice for you to be back home – I remember that joy from when I returned from working in Chicago for a couple of years – I was watching the Food Network the other night and there was mention of deep fried pork belly at the Red Wagon Restaurant in West Vancouver – looked decadent! – I’m going to visit my sis-in-law & bro-in-law next spring in Gibson’s – I’m going for some of that as soon as I’m off the plane – best wishes for a great vacation, for you & yours!

    • Thanks Karen’ Love Gibsons. I have a friend who has built a lovely home just north of there…and Gibsons, to my eye, looks like a great spot to keep a boat….perhaps my next boat!

  3. Kathy Schrader Says:

    There is a kind of quiet I hate. The silence that follows a blow up; you retreat to your room and feel the angry silence of the silent treatment…coming from both injured parties. Yikes. Angry as one of those resistant clam do-hickies when it finally snaps open.

    • Ah…the silent treatment! You’re right’s no good when the tension hangs heavy in the air. Men will do almost anything to avoid it…and women have it down to an art!

  4. A Silent Bliss,

    Dave, in 47 years I never knew it had a name or a label ‘The Plastic Clamshell’. You are spot on with regards to the Snap, Crackle… Crinkle.

    This is a never ending story of the ‘Clamshell’ that appears in my fridge every time my Wife has shopped at a Costco or the local grocery store.

    Sitting in Economy Class from YYZ to HGK or SGN is also dreadful, even my (Guaranteed) noise canceling headphones denied me of privacy,but I digress. The Cabin lights are dimmed, everyone is nodding off to La La land, and then the return of the dreaded ‘Plastic Clamshell’ X 200 plus Passengers.

    Don’t get me started on flying from Toronto to Vancouver! time to go outside to my Garden and listen to the Cicadas with my yappy Pug, a none made Man Sound.

    Thanks for relocating to Toronto! You where great on BT in Vancouver.

  5. Agreed! I have recently started meditating… have you tried it? Very peaceful! 🙂

  6. Thanks for the Angel pic by the way, I swiped it to use as my FB cover photo…lovely 🙂

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