The Sound of Silence: When Thoughts Consume Your Thoughts
Music has long been a tapestry that chronicles my life -- a timeline, if your will.
It's like an unending spool of thread that sews the bits and pieces of my life together. Some good, some bad.
For me, nothing conjures up memories like a favorite tune.
My first memories of music take me back to getting ready for school.
My mother used to listen to the local AM radio station as she made me breakfast.
The radio sat atop a bench seat that was part of a nook that overlooked the backyard.
It was the early 1960s and radio had yet to splinter into dozens of different formats. You could hear it all on one station.
The Beach Boys were just beginning to infiltrate the mix with songs like "Surfin' U.S.A."
My personal favorite was "Puff the Magic Dragon," by Peter, Paul and Mary.
As a result, I would eventually pursue a degree in radio broadcasting and enjoy a short-lived career as a disc jockey.
But, long before that, some friends of my mother gave me an old phonograph. It was a turning point in my life.
It looked like a glorified close-and-play. It was portable, like a suitcase.
I didn't even have a record to play. But, a visit to my aunt and uncle's house in Toronto solved that problem.
At the urging of my crazy aunt Joyce, my mother bought me my first long-play record. It was the Beatle's "Yesterday and Today." I still have it, protected by a plastic outer sleeve, which I eventually purchased to safeguard each of the 500 or so records in my collection.
It was the start of a lifelong appreciation for music, which, as I grow older by the day, encompases every form except classical, disco, and rap. But, to each his own.
My mother, an award-winning Irish dancer while growing up in Belfast, introduced me to jigs and reels.
I'll never forget the day I was hanging out in our basement room, when I heard a constant pounding on the floor above.
I ran upstairs to see my mother leaping up and down on the livingroom floor.
Her spirit had moved her to dance.
It was the one and only time I ever saw her perform. I was mesmerized.
It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it, as she withers away in a nursing home, a victim of dementia.
During a conditional update with the nursing home staff, they asked me what she might like to ease her final days?
I immediately thought of listening to some Irish reels, in addition to lemon meringue pie.
So, I purchased a compact disc of reels and brought them to her.
She just smiled, no longer recognizing who I am.
I know firsthand how an invisible disease can suck the joy out of things you once couldn't live without. I've been battling depression for nearly 30 years, often finding myself staring at my high-tech stereo, but not feeling motivated enough to even turn it on. It sucks.
For me, listening to music is a very personal pleasure, done in complete solitude.
However, it's not conducive to the disposition of someone suffering from depression. The last thing you want to do is find yourself alone and trapped by your thoughts. Everything becomes background music.
Before you know it, the music's ended and you don't even recall hearing it.
The sound of silence is a very real thing.
The music gets drowned out like the cacophony of noises emanating from a busy street while taking a walk.
If you hadn't noticed, this story has veered off into an unintended direction.
Instead of highlighting the music that's made my life bearable, it's turned my thoughts toward the dark, menacing disease that often deprives me of the joy music brings.
Please note what just happened. It's an example of how the mind of a depressive individual can turn on a dime.
One dark thought. One dark memory. That's all it takes.
Now, Imagine the thought of that happening numerous times a day, for years on end. It can be debilitating.
Fortunately, I've been lucky enough to recognize my triggers, the thoughts that consume my thoughts.
Nonetheless, as you can see, it's a never-ending battle.
Most of you who've taken the time to read this are familiar with my usual "devil-may-care-attitude."
My reputation often precedes me. And, that's okay.
There are many things I no longer take seriously. I can't.
For one thing, I've realized that many aren't worth worrying about or getting upset about in the first place.
For a second thing, they're triggers.
That's why I tend to inject a little humor into the mix. Life's too short to dwell on the negative aspects of life, especially when there's so many positive aspects within our reach.
For some of us, we just have to reach a little further to grasp them.
.
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Comments
Sara Jacobovici
7 years ago #12
Thanks for letting me know Randy Keho. A smile sounds good. She sounds like quite a personality. I don't wish for anyone who is caring for her to get hurt but as long as she's got the fight in her.....
Randy Keho
7 years ago #11
Me? A dancer? Not by any stretch of the imagination. That talent was not passed on, even though my father could cut a rug, too. It was something to behold when they would take to the floor during wedding receptions. They looked like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
Randy Keho
7 years ago #10
Phil Friedman
7 years ago #9
Phil Friedman
7 years ago #8
Ali Anani
7 years ago #7
Sara Jacobovici
7 years ago #6
Sara Jacobovici
7 years ago #5
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #4
Thanks Randy Keho, it's been my hope by sharing my own personal stories that others would feel free to as well. I'm glad you shared yours! I also appreciate the fact that you were open, it does take a bit of courage. Each time I post something new, I swear I sweat bullets for a while before I finally hit post. I would love to see the photo, I bet you have many stories to tell about your mom's time as an Irish dancer. My husband's father had dementia and it was tough on the entire family. Will keep you in my thoughts (and your mom)!
Randy Keho
7 years ago #3
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #2
Randy Keho
7 years ago #1