Sound Check

They say if it’s too loud, you’re too old. They don’t say too old for what, but whatever it is, I have to stop doing it. Despite a youthful craving for volume, everything is too loud now. The music they play at lunch on Friday at the junior high seems ear-piercing and the volume jumps during television commercials are excruciating. Energetic radio announcers are too loud in the morning and anything above conversational tones after dinnertime sets my teeth on edge. I am so desperate to lower the volume in my world that a lost remote makes me crazy and even led to attaching one of them to the coffee table with yarn. That’s how serious it is. Which really leads me to one question: How did I get here? Didn’t I crank the Mighty 690 when my parents weren’t home? Wasn’t I the girl who blasted Foreigner, Journey, and Styx? Not exactly head-banging stuff, but still it was at full volume. How did I become such a sound wimp? I’d hate to think it’s as cliché as getting older, but it might be. Those kids at school aren’t turning down the music. My kids at home aren’t diving for the mute button. So, age it must be. But, wait. Norman Bridwell’s Clifford’s Noisy Day tells the story of the big red dog as a tiny red puppy who gets a bit overwhelmed by all the sound in his day. Maybe I’m not getting older, the world’s just getting louder.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_Bridwell


http://www.amazon.com/Cliffords-Noisy-Day-Norman-Bridwell/dp/0590457373