by James J. Jerome, MA, Senior Occupational Audiologist
I was born and raised on the south side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in a community called Bay View. Back in my formative years, the 50s and 60s (yes, I’m a Baby Boomer), Bay View was a bustling community, and you could get just about anything you wanted within easy walking distance. Our house was half a city block from the heart of Bay View, and three major streets intersected the community. When I walked out the door and down the street, I was inundated with the vibrancy of the community, primarily the loudness of the traffic…cars, trucks, buses, motorcycles, and the occasional siren. Bay View would reach a crescendo in loudness every Friday night, because Friday was pay day. Families filled the streets, shopping and eating at the various restaurants to include the many taverns that offered the traditional fish fry for the devout Catholics who honored meatless Friday. Even though I was an integral part of the community, I never thought about my involvement with the community. I was just a kid growing up into adolescence. All I ever thought about was play, and in later years…girls! All the sounds of that community, no matter how loud, was a part of me everyday! The only quiet I experienced was inside an abode…home, classroom, church, etc. And I thought about quiet as much as I thought about loudness, which was never! Everything was taken for granted.
I went to the University of Wisconsin- Milwaukee, on the north side of the city. For the first year of college, I took the city bus to and from school. Our family didn’t have a car, and the city buses got us to just about anywhere we wanted to go. There was loudness everywhere! The second year of college, I bought my first car and, from that point forward, contributed to the loudness of the city, again giving no thought about the significance of my “contribution.”
My mother had younger twin sisters, and one of them, Joyce, and her husband, Hiram, bought a small plot of land on Lake Morris, in north central Wisconsin…about two hours from Milwaukee. The plot was just outside the town of Mount Morris, the population…well it depended on how many visitors came to the one and only general store each day. My Uncle Hi was very handy with tools and could fix or build just about anything. So he built a small two-bedroom cottage on their plot, and they would make weekend trips to their cottage during the warm season, leaving after work on Friday, and returning home Sunday evening. By the way, this activity was shared by thousands of other Milwaukeans each week…heading “up north” on a Friday to a destination away from the city.
I was twenty and a sophomore in college when my aunt invited my Mom and I to spend a weekend at their cottage. So on a Friday afternoon, we drove “up north.” It was a cloudless summer day, and the temperature was ideal. As soon as I got out of the car, I was immediately impressed with how quiet it was. I was taken aback a little by what I felt. Later, I made my way to the end of the little pier they had and just took in all the quiet, vividly recalling a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, waves gently lapping against the shore line, birds calling. There was the sound of an outboard motor way on the other side of the lake, slowly becoming more faint as the boat moved away. It was the first time I appreciated what quiet really was. After that first visit, I always enjoyed going back to their cottage, not just for the fun of visiting but also for the quiet. I can also understand why so many Milwaukeans made the weekly trek up north…to get away
from all that loudness of the city and enjoy the quiet of the countryside. To use the old adage, they went to “commune with nature!”
High levels of community loudness, or noise pollution as researchers have labeled it, has long been considered a health hazard globally, with a large body of evidence linking noise to various health effects including sleep disturbance, learning difficulties, hypertension, and heart disease. It may affect mental health as well. I really don’t think I was nearly affected to the extent noted above if at all, but it does support the notion that humans need quiet in their lives!
So my question to our readers is: whether or not you were born and raised in a city, do you remember the first time you experienced and appreciated quiet? Do you recall how old you were when it happened? Does it conjure up fond memories when you think back? Do you seek quiet in your life? Sarah and I would like to know your thoughts!
Thanks for reading…
Jim