Sounds of the City

I grew up in a small town (pop. Of 825 not counting cows or other livestock) and have very fond memories of my upbringing there. At night in my small town it was and is very, very quiet. Yes, you hear an occasional car go by and the constant chirping of crickets but there is really no clue as to what is really going on in the world around you. The silence is almost deafening.

The sounds of the city by contrast provide you will all kinds of information. Take last Saturday evening for example. As dusk was settling in, from my open window I heard the moronic melody of the Ice Cream truck driving through my street bringing joy and dental bills to my neighborhood. This was accompanied by the rhythmatic pitter patter of little tykes joyously coming for a sugar fix. In the background, like a sub plot in a Aaron Sorkin TV drama, one could hear the sounds of a fire trucks rushing to a crisis around the corner. Potential glee and probable pain, the irony of the human condition, were both within earshot.

Later that same evening after the important Met and Yankee baseball game were over the neighborhood sounds spoke loudly of the outcomes. The Yankee side of my complex spoke in the hushed tones found at Matthew’s Funeral Home a midst the mourners. The Met side was loud and boisterous, like a popular Bistro on a hoping Friday night. No need for Sportscenter here. Victory and defeat were heard in the voices on the street below. The Yankees had been summarily removed from the baseball playoffs and there cross town rivals the Mets had, in convincing fashion, moved to the next round.

With very little effort one can hear the joys and sorrows of this city shouting up from the concrete. The noise at times can be deafening but it also always informative.