Silence Is Golden

Those of you of a certain age remember when television stations signed off for the night, playing the national anthem, and then ending up broadcasting a test pattern before sometimes cutting their signal completely.

As a young kid in the early 1970's, one of the biggest of the "big kid" rituals was staying up late, past your bedtime. If you managed to stay up late enough, you watched as the five or six stations all shut down for the night.

It was a magical point of the day. Your parents were asleep. Your younger siblings were asleep. There you were in a totally quiet house and even television was gone for the night. My preference for silence must have started at a young age.

I remember one time spending the night at the next door neighbors' house ,and Adam, Chris and I were determined to stay up all night - that was the next "big kid" level beyond just staying up late. It must have been during summer vacation, because the sun rose fairly early and we snuck out of the house and went for a walk.

We went all the way down our road to 55th Street which is normally a busy street, but at 5AM on a Sunday in the summer in 1975 it was completely empty. The streets were empty, like some apocalyptic horror movie. We did push ups in the middle of the intersection. Once again the silence, the stillness, was captivating.

Regular readers will know that I live in a log cabin in the woods with only two nearby houses. I don't have television. I have managed to create a life style that captures that early morning stillness all the time. This is the monastic part of me. This is the Enneagram Five part of me. "The world is invasive, I need my privacy." I often want nothing more than to shrink my world down to my home, sometimes even to a small portion of my home.

There's a significant irony here. Did you see the recent news reports on the man who was believed to be in a coma for twenty-three years? Apparently he has been conscious the entire time, but unable to move and communicate with his family. I almost began to hyperventilate reading the story. To be completely trapped in one's own body would be the ultimate horror.

Somewhere between shrinking my world down to a couple of rooms, but before shrinking it down to just an immobile body, is my ideal. That, of course, is why I am drawn to the Carthusian monks. It is probably a good thing that I am too old to join their order. I can dream about it without it being a serious possibility.

I was to be in Chicago for Thanksgiving today. Through a mis-communication I ended up having to cancel my trip. My mom was sad, my dad was crying. They were very disappointed. My mom has subsequently posted on Facebook today about her memories of the big gatherings on this holiday at my great-grandmother's house on the South Side of Chicago and my grandmother's house on the North Side. My unexpected absence brought on some wistful memories and wishing for holidays past. They both were looking forward to having their four kids together for a holiday gathering and that didn't happen. That is perhaps my biggest regret about the cancellation.

However, scattered across the Facebook newsfeed are multiple comments about those unfortunates who are alone today without family or friends. The sentiments are genuine, but I think they also project their own fears of solitude and loneliness.

In the end, I chose to stay home with the dogs (and cats and rabbits and fish) rather than go to one of the gatherings occurring in the area where I know I would have been welcome. I've been playing quiet music on iTunes. I have a toasty warm fire going in the fireplace/wood stove. I'm still in my pajamas.

I experimented and made what I will call Turkey Soup a la Brussels. I found some chicken backs and some freezer burned turkey and some overly frozen brussel sprouts and whipped together an interesting soup that is reminiscent of split pea - but with pureed brussel sprouts and turkey. I topped it with croutons and opened up a can of jellied cranberry sauce. It was delicious and probably low cal to boot. I have had a wonderful, peaceful day despite the disappointment of a canceled trip.

When I was in nursing school, one of the instructor's taught me an important lesson: Don't assume the widow is sad. She just might be relieved that the old bastard finally kicked off! This might be the first day of her freedom.

Well, to that adage I would add, don't assume the solitary soul is sad and lonely. Many folks out there are sad and lonely and the "holiDAZE" only aggravate their situation. There are some of us though that live with this kind of solitude all the time and relish the silence. It is golden.

I know that I am loved. I know that I have friends who care about me. If I did not, spending Thanksgiving with a group of people - ANY group of people - would not alleviate that pain. To all of you, my friends and family, cyber and real or both - I am thankful for the love you bring to the table for our daily feast. Peace.