A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full of Sound and Fury, But Especially Sound

A couple of weeks ago a cousin's son got married in what was one of the most charming weddings I've ever had the good fortune to attend, and I won't burden you with all the reasons for that - suffice it to say that there was a good deal of deep feeling interspersed with wonderfully supportive chuckles and the occasional guffaw.

An event to remember, in other words.

[Sidebar: As I wandered toward my forties I found myself full of ennui about yet another wedding to attend. Then it occurred to me that I seemed to be making up for it by attending funerals and memorial services (I take them to be not the same thing, but perhaps I am wrong.) At this stage of my life, I look forward to weddings and hope for fewer of the other kind of public ceremony, but I fear my demographic status is against me.]

The reception was held in a fine old building in a nearby town, a place considered the "sticks," when I had hair, and as I walked in, I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Lots of plate glass, an antique tin ceiling, lots of wood, and carpet on the floor, and in one corner, the dreaded sound system to "liven up" the living.

The young man - it is always a young man - already had music going on the sound system, and as the room filled up and the bar went into action, the noise level went up, and up, and up.

It was hard to have a conversation, not just because of the ambient sound but also because a lot of voices fall into the mid-range, and they are the first to get lost in the waves of sound. So, I found myself saying, "What?" about every twenty seconds, wishing I knew how to read lips, and thinking about that restaurant I was always going to open....the one called Old Farts, with thick carpeting, tapestries and the like on the walls, enough light so you could read the damn menu which would be printed IN ALL CAPS IN A VERY LARGE FONT, and not a note of music to be heard anywhere. No more than six at a table, and the tables would be far apart so those of us with really good hearing could not eavesdrop.

By the time dinner was over and the dancing - well, what they call dancing - was about to begin, I decided that my geezer status would allow me to escape, and I did. I headed to the car and drove home in blissful silence.

Now, I'm not criticising the young for enjoying their efficient hearing skills and ability to decode what others are saying and having a great, loud time at these celebrations. They're up to that sort of thing. But as the boomers age and their children remarry, perhaps it will occur to someone that the young should be in the big room, enjoying themselves to the hilt, and those of us who are approaching our sell-by date might have a nice quiet space down the hall - even across the street...one with tables of four, a couple of jig saw puzzles, and some decks of cards, along with a tv showing some sporting event but with no sound, just closed captioning. We could visit the main room in shifts to maintain contact with the primary group of party-goers but not so long as to destroy what's left of our hearing.

You probably thought I forgot to mention the bar. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Of course there should be a bar with an older bartender who can put together an old-fashioned, a sidecar, a manhattan, a rusty nail, or a sloe gin fizz. He'd probably appreciate the quiet atmosphere too.

Now before you open your pie-hole and make a growing sound, remember this is not a criticism, just a suggestion for future consideration ...when and if the topic comes up.