If you’re under 50, then 10 points if you recognize the source of the above quote. If you’re in your 70s, you lose 30 points if you don’t recognize that it is a Simon and Garfunkel song.
After last week’s blog, a friend complimented me on how I connected the various strands of the blog together. I explained that it was all pure chance. I just stand here at the top of the hill, kick the ball once, and watch. What rocks it bounces off, what ruts it gets stuck in, what windows it smashes, on its bumpy descent – all that feels completely out of my control.
In one of my increasingly common serendipitous moments, having decided what I wanted to write about this week (a real no-brainer), I cast about for a suitably attention-grabbing title, and The Sound of Silence almost immediately presented itself. As part of my warm-up, I ran through the lyrics.
In a pre-internet age, this would, of course, have been a nightmare, because we only have the song on vinyl/LP, and we no longer have a deck/record player. (I am growing increasingly sensitive to the wide range of ages among my audience.) I can picture myself struggling like Himesh Patel, playing the lead in Yesterday, desperately trying to drag the lyrics of She’s Leaving Home from the recesses of his mind.
However, in yet another of the multiple daily reminders of the wonders of the web, I can google the lyrics instantly. (Mind you, if there were no internet, there would probably be no digital media, and we would still have a record deck and I would be able to play The Sound of Silence.)
Looking through the lyrics, I was immediately struck by the lines: ‘People talking without speaking, People hearing without listening’. Simply by switching the two verbs in the second line, I realized that I had, in a nutshell, the predicament Bernice and I currently find ourselves. I can, at the moment, talk, but only in a whisper that does not really qualify as speaking. Bernice, in perfect symmetry, listens, but because, at the moment, she is suffering with blocked ears, she can’t actually hear me. I’m not sure we’ve ever been a Simon and Garfunkel song before (and anyone who mentions Old Friends can leave now).
All of which is incidental, and, we hope, temporary. Bernice has an appointment to have her ears syringed soon by my throat doctor, and, by the time you read this, I should have had my throat examined by Bernice’s ear syringer, and I hope he will provide the solution to our problem. (I’ve always found it curious that one specialism covers what seem to me to be three very separate parts of my body arbitrarily lumped together – I can’t imagine specialism in toenails, spleen and neck. I know, intellectually, that E, N and T are all connected by a single canal system, but it doesn’t feel like that in my head. Just a thought!)
Editor’s Note: He didn’t (provide a solution). My vocal cords are only closing partially (an improvement on a month ago), so I can still only whisper. If they were not closing at all, the doc would know what to do, but, on the other hand, my position would then be more serious. What he has done is refer me to the top woman in Jerusalem, so I face another four weeks of whispering until my appointment with her. I am, at least, now officially allowed to talk, but only in short sentences and not in a loud voice.
This top woman is the Director of Hadassah Hospital’s Voice and Swallowing Outpatients Department. My brother Martin usefully pointed out that having a team devoted to swallowing outpatients should certainly reduce waiting times.
The real topic this week (reached in under 600 words) is the sound of silence: the silence that descended on our house at 1AM last Thursday, when Micha’el, Tslil and Tao drove off to the airport. Not just the silence: rather, the silences.
There is, first and foremost, the silence created by the absence of a two-year-old who is constantly on the go, and who is perfectly capable of engaging non-stop in an intelligent conversation even if he only offers one word each time it is his turn to speak. Excitingly, while he was here, he started putting words together in rudimentary sentences, such as “Caught ball”, and compound phrases such as “Big red truck!”. We fully expect that, by the time we fly to Portugal and see him again (planned for October), we won’t be able to get a word in edgeways.
Editor’s Note: Indeed, since arriving back home, he has. apparently, graduated to three-word sentences such as “Put it there”.
Then there is the silence left in the evenings, instead of the not-quite-discernible murmured conversation heard as Micha’el and Tslil catch up with their closest friends in the back garden.
Or the sheer joy of listening to Tslil, Micha’el, and Bernice each constantly enriching their own unique bond with Tao. Three very distinct voices and styles, wrapping Tao in love and security.
Next time I make granola, (following the wonderful recipe shared years ago by our good friends Bobbie and Joe), it is going to be a very quiet process. This is in contrast to last time, when Tao added all of the ingredients according to my instructions. I, of course, had to be generous with the nuts and seeds, because Tao, like his grandpa, has to taste everything as he goes along. If anything, Tao granola tastes even better than my usual batch (even if it does take twice as long to make, and three times as long to clear up the counter-top and sweep the floor). The granola is one lingering trace that he has left behind for me.
Above even all of that is the silence left when we are not sitting around the dinner table with our four children and our grandson. Hearing our seven voices (or, rather, their six voices and my hiss) in inter-weaving harmony has been the greatest pleasure of their trip, for me.
Bernice and I spent Thursday packing away the toys and books that we had taken down from the wardrobes, or bought specially (in the hope that they will be a good investment for the future – no pressure). We also packed up and put aside items we had borrowed (thank you, Metanel for the Lego, Gan Horim for the wheelbarrow and Hagit for the mattress.)
This involved a fair bit of dismantling, squeezing into boxes and retrieving marbles and pieces of Lego from behind sofas. When we had finished, we sat down and surveyed the vast, empty expanses of our salon. (It’s true what they say about bringing in the goat!)
Incidentally, our best buy, without a doubt, was a balance trike or bimba (no pedals) that folds down quickly and simply, is light but extremely sturdy, and cost only 60 shekels. At home, Tao spends a lot of time on his quad bike (pardon the oxymoron) and we wanted him to have a substitute here, which certainly got very good use.
It was, for us, a great visit, and the ease with which Tao settled in was wonderful and very reassuring to see. Unfortunately, a couple of weeks after they arrived, the municipality closed off and started digging up the little playground just at the top of our street, which Tao visited daily. The renovation is still not finished, so we had to find another suitable park further away.
However, even this cloud had a silver lining. While the playground no longer boasts swings, slides or roundabouts, it does have a roller and a digger. Since this latter is just about Tao’s favourite thing, we were able to spend lots of time standing in the 38o heat, with the desert sun beating down on us, watching the digger loading up a big blue truck and spread a fine layer of dust over all of us. Who needs seesaws?!
Even that I miss. And so, we hang in abeyance, wistfully awaiting the next invasion. Meanwhile, I have to start practising speaking laconically, so here goes.
Bye.
Here’s Tao, sorting out his things
for packing to go home.
Hi David, you may not be talking, but (lucky for us) you are still able to speak to us very eloquently through your blog! Love your evocative and erudite pieces
Thanks for the shout-out about the granola! we have it available every day for our guests at the Everett Jewish Life Center in Chautauqua, our summer gig, and it has been very popular — I’ve had to make three double batches so far!
No surprises there!
Oh David – I felt for you the whole time I was reading. I can’t imagine what it must have been like – having Tao around and not being able to speak to him normally or read him stories. I am spoiled, with two sets of grandchildren, all living reasonably close. The two tribes are totally different. Shacham’s are noisy and shrill, march into the house like a line of soldiers, and procede to take our living area apart, strewing dolls, lego, magnetic blocks etc. around. Shiri’s are quieter, though the youngest is something of an aberration – she is dark, very curly, and very very noisy. But they, too, take the living area apart in no short order. For us, the sound of silence is sometimes a relief (sometimes not). I do hope you will be able to get over to Portugal in October. I had hoped to get over to the U.K. at Sukkot – to see my Mum and family – but that possibility is beginning to seem unlikely. We can only hope. Love to Bernice.
By the way, I would love to receive Joe and Bobbie’s granola recipe. xx
Thanks for the comment, Mal. As they say: ‘Lovely when they come, lovely when they go’. We do know that, if we do manage to get over there in October (and it is, of course, still a lottery), then we will have a full month of being together, which is really lovely.
Really hope you manage to get to the UK, but that seems to depend on whether BoJo can transform into an effective PM.
or Bennett