Silent Days

Dearest Rachel –

I’ve spent very little time this year listening to Christmas music of any sort. Yes, there have been a couple of trips to the mall, and if I heard anything while Daniel and I were there, it was purely by accident; the conversation between the two of us, as well as the snippets of the same as people would pass us along the way, drowned any of that out. From a retail perspective, the most I found myself listening to was when Lars and I went to lunch at a place I haven’t been to since Christmas 2016, when we took the folks out after Sunday services, and you floated the suggestion of putting a “W” flag on my grandmother’s grave, since you’d heard she was such a die-hard Cubs fan back in the day. Which led, you’ll recall, to your statement that you wanted to be cremated and have your ashes cast out over Schoolhouse Bay; a choice my dad thought somewhat objectionable: “Where would Daniel go to grieve you?” he asked, reasonably assuming only he would survive you. At which point, we invited them to join us on the island for a summer’s trip, so he might understand what you saw in the place.

…and I’ve already wandered far afield from what I was intending to talk about, by the length of a six-hour drive. The thing is, even at the restaurant, the music was entirely secular, which drew Lars’ ire, but left me shrugging. What can you expect from a retail establishment? We were already close enough to a neighborhood of folks that don’t even celebrate this particular holiday; why antagonize your patrons with religious music that conflicts with theirs? Better to stick with more seasonal and secular stuff; let those who attend church find their religious Christmas music there.

Only, we haven’t heard many of the old carols this year, not at our church. Christmas Eve included three or four songs that contained either – or both – lines on the order of “come let us adore him” or “heaven and nature sing.” There are other carols out there – which you would be among the first to point out – but for whatever reason, only the absolutely most familiar ones were sung or referenced this year.

Including “Silent Night.” Which brings me back to the topic I intended to relate to you today. Yeah, all this talking about Christmas music was just prologue. And why wouldn’t it be? Christmas is over with, and while some places do continue piping holiday Muzak for the current week (because what else are they going to play? “Auld Lang Syne” is the only truly New Year’s-related song, and as with the entirety of the holiday itself, it only applies to the moment when the clock – and calendar – turns over), with the real holiday over and done with, so are the songs. If I have any issues with what is or isn’t being played, it’s too late to bring them up now; as my Dad would say, the complaint department is closed for the season. However, between this traditional song and the quiet of the morning, it occurred to me that my days are as silent as my nights.

To be sure, when everybody else in the house is asleep, one is most conscious about trying to remain quiet. I’ve even learned not to talk to myself (something Daniel has yet to master, but in fairness, it took me until I was older than he is to get to this point) as I go about whatever I need to do. Granted, it’s not completely silent about me – there’s no showering in silence, for instance, with the water pouring down upon me. But there’s no point in speaking, when there’s no one to talk to. I even spent most of last evening completely mute, while waiting videos in the bedroom to keep myself occupied while the boys did likewise in the family room opposite. It’s astonishing to realize is that I’d gone longer without speaking than I have without eating over the last twenty-four hours or so.

The actor with his world-renown
Was thinking ’bout his last real day of silence

Was it over?

Tally Hall, “Taken for a Ride,” Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Museum (2005)

It’s probably nothing more than a case of the grass being greener on the other side, but it seems that those whose lives are filled with noise and activity long for a day of absolute silence. Meanwhile, for my own part, I would rather have someone to talk – and listen – to again. Without one, one winds up with more silence than one knows what to do with; not only silent nights, but silent days as well. At present, the only means I have to fill those empty gaps (especially when Daniel is hanging out with Logan, but often when the two of us are together, as well) is by having the computer on, showing one thing or another. It’s a digitally generated form of white noise at the very least; more often, it’s something to pay attention to, rather than allow myself too much awareness of the silence that would otherwise surround me.

I realize that I should take the opportunity to accept these long moments of stillness to meditate and reflect on spiritual things, those that are bigger than myself, and therefore more important. But just like with fasting, it seems beyond my ability. Not that I can’t do it – I can certainly go without speaking, just as I can go without eating, for a surprisingly long period of time; that realization is what got me to this point where I’m telling you about it – but I can’t seem to use the time so spent to a higher purpose; I’m too aware that it’s happening, and that it’s unusual for it to be, for me to take proper advantage of it. Maybe at some point, each of these activities will become sufficiently commonplace that I’ll be able to use them to such a benefit, but I haven’t gotten there yet, and don’t know if I ever will.

Until then, though, I’d ask you to keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m sure I’ll need it.