Category Archives: Musings

Silence

Musings, , ,

Again, I thought I’d blogged about this subject, but apparently not since it did not show up in a search result. I found something else, though, that made me happy and a little sad — but that’s a post for another day.

There are many kinds of people in the world but today I want to discuss two kinds. Those who like to go through life without background noise and those who like to have music or other sounds playing during their waking (and sometimes sleeping) hours.

I am the former kind of person. While I appreciate some music, I prefer to listen to it when I want to listen to it and not constantly. My husband is the other kind of person. He seems to need (although he may disagree with the verb, need) to have music or some other noise (I am using noise here in a general sense, not in a negative sense) in the background of his life at all times. In fact, when we first met, he used to have a radio playing softly when he slept. The only time my husband does not have music playing over the speakers in the house, or through headphones seems to be when he first wakes up, drinks his coffee and reads the paper. That, I think, is out of consideration to me since I usually sleep later than he does.

My husband nearly always tells our kitchen Echo to “play NPR” when he sits down to eat — breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I usually tell Alexa to stop when I join him at the table, but sometimes she talks on through our meals. My husband has even started to listening to podcasts when he goes to bed at night.

My kids are the same way — they both play music from their phones when we are in the car together and my son, at least, often hooks up his phone to our Bluetooth system and plays music — mostly music he wants me to hear because he thinks I will like it (I often do, but since I don’t much listen to music I rarely go back to it).

Other people I know like to have a television on in the background. My folks were like that to some extent. Some of my in-laws are like that. My brother often has the television playing when no one is actively watching it.

I love silence*. I love silence when I wake up in the morning and have my morning beverage. I love silence when I get ready for my day. I love silence when I work (unless it is a mindless and boring task where I sometimes watch Netflix). I usually love silence when I am driving, but often listen to NPR when I am running errands or audiobooks when I am driving long distances. I love silence when I cook dinner  (although sometimes I listen to an audiobook when I am puttering around in the kitchen). I love silence (except for conversation) when I eat dinner. I love silence when I read. I love silence when I blog. I love silence when I am falling asleep.

I know I have a hard time concentrating when there is background noise, even wordless music so that explains why I need silence when I am working or reading or blogging. But why do I like silence when I am just sitting around thinking or when I am eating?

This makes me wonder why the difference? What makes some crave silence and others crave sound? I think I am in the minority. What do you like: silence, noise or something in between?

*My silence is not like everyone’s silence because I have a bit of tinnitus. I might be one of the only people that do not consider it a burden — I figure that I always have crickets singing in my ears.

Creepy Dolls

Musings, Things, , ,

My mom had a soft spot for ugly dolls. She liked going to antique shops and occasionally purchased the ugliest doll there because she was afraid that doll would never be loved.

A few years ago she gave me two of these dolls “for Clare” but Clare really didn’t want them. I often have them sitting on the back of my office sofa staring at the back of my head while I work.

The first looks like she’s dressed up to go on a trip. Her clothes are elaborate, handmade for sure. She’s wearing pantaloons and a petticoat under a traveling skirt and coat. The undergarments are finished with lace and the skirt and coat are lined. I thought this was a very old doll, but I am now thinking it is not so old, maybe from the 1970s or later. The rear has a stitched name and probably company name: “Meg Jandolls.” What’s creepy about her is her expression. Eyes that bore right into you and a small, slightly askew mouth.

Meg the traveling doll

The other doll is, I think, much older. I call her the strict nanny. Her graying hair is in a messy bun, Her face is stern (or shyly smiling depending on the angle). She’s wearing a pink gingham dress over a petticoat. Over her dress is an apron. Barely visible in the photo below are her black (removable!) boots.Her hands snap together so she can hold a baby. The baby wears what looks like a baptismal gown and a pink knit shawl. I think both the nanny and the baby had bonnets, but they’ve been misplaced.

Strict Nanny Doll

The baby, now that I look at her without her bonnet reminds me a lot of young Karen from the BBC series, Outnumbered.

Karen
Doll

Okay, maybe not, but to be fair Karen’s hair often looked like the doll’s hair in the early episodes.

All three of these dolls will continue to sit in my office unless I decide to put them on the guest beds. I am pretty sure someone could write a Shirley Jackson-type short story about each of these dolls.

And they are not as creepy as this creepy doll:

No soap radio

Memories, Musings, People, ,

My dad was a funny guy and had witty stories and jokes ready for any occasion. I don’t really remember too many of the stories and only remember one of his jokes. Maybe two.

The joke I definitely remember made no sense to me when I was a kid. When I grew up I figured it was funny to someone who was in the “know” about the “golden days of radio” because it sure made my dad laugh. It was not until this afternoon that I realized that my dad was not telling me a joke as much as pranking me.

“Momma Bear and Poppa Bear were taking a bath.

Momma Bear said, “Poppa Bear, pass me the soap, dear.”

Poppa Bear said, “No soap, radio.”

After telling the joke my dad would laugh and laugh and laugh. I’d say I didn’t get it. He’d say, “No soap, radio! No soap radio!” I’d tell him I still didn’t get it. I’d ask what it meant, but he could never seem to explain it to me and said, “never mind” when I bugged him about it.

I told other people the joke and no one else understood it either. How could my father laugh so heartily at a joke that no one understood?

When I grew up I’d think back to the joke and try to understand it. I finally came to the conclusion that it must have had something to do with the olden days and radio programs. That maybe the people that grew up listening to soap operas on the radio understood the joke and that since I hadn’t I’d never hope to understand the joke.

This afternoon I brought the joke up with Dean. He remembered me telling him about it years ago. I told him my theory and he suggested that I consult Professor Internet. I did and what I found out kind of made me sad.

It turns out that the “No soap radio” joke was a prank that may have started in the 1950s. A group of friends would be in on the joke, one person would tell it (or a variation of it) and all the friends would laugh. If the person being pranked laughed, the others would laugh and ask what was funny.

So when my father told it and I didn’t laugh but asked what it meant, how did that make him feel? Was he disappointed that I didn’t do what was expected? Would I have laughed if other people were also laughing? Should I be upset that he was trying to prank me? Does it really matter? Should I stop obsessing on this?

Dad at the Wonder Spot in Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin 1954