We have met the enemy and he is us.
---Walt Kelly
For a long time I have been railing at friends,
and even total strangers trapped in slow moving bank or grocery checkout lines,
about the nearly universal use of ear buds.
Without sounding too much like the late Andy Rooney, I was against them,
almost to the point of producing spittle.
I viewed the ubiquitous ivory colored plugs as more than a minor
distraction or fashion statement, but an antisocial act. By choosing to seal ourselves in an audio
bubble, we not only erect additional barriers with others, but we may stifle
our own thoughts. A brimming haiku, a
stinging letter to the editor, a snappy retort for the next tailgating yahoo in
a monster truck...snuffed out by a medley of The Grass Roots Greatest Hits.
When I really got going I could verbally Evil
Knievel the Snake River Canyon of logic and extrapolate a world of isolated Bee
Gees listening zombies, anesthetized and ripe for totalitarian picking. We walk the lakes and hike the wilderness for
the quiet and ambient sounds. Nature
does not require a soundtrack. Thoreau
cruising around Walden with an iPod?
Blasphemy!
Profound alienation, a diss to the environment,
issues of safety (distract-ability and what that can entail), and the risk of
hearing loss to the wearer. That was my
platform, shared with anyone who would listen, and a few that merely turned up
the volume to mute my diatribe. I now
see these views as more than a tad extreme, but not without merit. Nonetheless I have done almost a complete 180
degree turn. I still do not know what
others were listening to, but I always assumed it was music. I enjoy music, but I do not need it piped
over a loudspeaker in a mega mall (another topic) or in my ears.
Podcasts are another story. I can go for a walk with Ira Glass (This American Life) and not need to hold
up my end of the conversation. I do not
watch sports very often, but I am hooked on the soap opera which is Peyton
Manning, Jeremy Lin, and Ryan Braun. Dan
Patrick, Colin Cowherd, Mike and Mike, are my podcast pals that make going to
the post office or to buying gas (ouch) more interesting.
I have the zeal of a convert. Do I want to invite a friend on a walk or for
tea, and risk a possibly tearful/angst ridden/ intimate/messy/galvanizing/soul
baring/cathartic/breakthrough/bonding/heartfelt exploration of the preciousness
of life, the impossible pain of unrequited love, the existential barrenness of
possessions, and the hollowness of unfulfilled dreams? Or do I want to go out
alone, but with the voice of Keith Olbermann updating me on the latest hijinks
of fools in high places?
Tom H. Cook is a very longtime writer for this paper,
which is not an excuse, but perhaps an explanation. He will probably return next month unless
someone tells him to stop.
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