For once, I actually noticed the sound of the cicada chorus without needing to pause, listen, and identify.
As I entered the deck to drink coffee and chat with The Boys in London, and David’s parents in Boston, they all remarked how loud the cicadas were.
Yes, they were loud. But, I remained on the deck and did not collect any complaints from my fellow Sunday morning ZoomMates.
Oddly, to me, it sounded like a STAR TREK episode where their laser guns jammed in fire-only position. Now, I would have only known this due to a Smithsonian channel documentary on “The Making of STAR TREK” that aired several times on Pluto.
Living next to a terrifically huge high school campus that has had its share of remodeling, rebuilding, and altogether new construction the past eighteen years since I’ve lived at The Haasienda on Shroyer, I am so accustomed to lots of sound. Construction. Traffic. School Activities. Fraze Pavilion and Lincoln Park activities. General foot traffic. School buses arriving, unloading, leaving. School buses arriving, loading, and leaving. Teachers and staff coming and going. And, pre-Pandemic, my own household-studio traffic coming and going. These sounds, mixed with the occasional chorus of barking from my pooches is my world of sound.
“It’s only natural I don’t readily notice the cicadas, as unique their sound is,” I explain countless times to those who just don’t believe I don’t go nuts listening to them.
Picture this: a music building on a college campus. You walk down any given floor’s hall to find a door that leads into a small hallway that resembles a subdivision cul de sac. There are two doors to practice rooms on each side of the tiny hallway, and one at the end. Five (5) small practice rooms. These rooms are generally filled with students practicing any instrument.
It gets loud.
Very, very loud.
Now, do keep in mind that there may be, on either side of this collection of practice rooms, more practice rooms. It gets to be even louder. Some students can handle the noice, others cannot.
I was one who didn’t mind the noise. I was kind of like the subject in the ever-delightful Jeanine Tesori and Dick Scanlan song, “The Girl In 14G” who is bombarded with classical and jazz music from floors 13 and 15.
I was blessed with a blonde brain that can handle multiple sounds invading my work space. In fact, except for teaching, I love having surround sound while I am working on research, writing, or simply reading. I even go to sleep with sound: a documentary of lesser interest, a previously viewed television show, etc.
What I do find interesting is that the sound is not troubling to the pooches’ ears. Chief bellows at the sound of “The Addams Family” theme song. In fact, any similar triplet pattern perks his ears to a periscope position, putting him on high-alert. Any midi-instrument from the computer is immediately followed by his cries, often joined by The Sisters who give it the impression of a poorly 1970s self-produced music or ministry program where the singers tried their very best.
So, this morning, all I can imagine is my yard filled with the original cast of the 1960s STAR TREK and their laser guns are jammed.
I hope those who are struggling with the invasive cicada sounds an still manage to make it a great day.