The world has become noisy. I don’t know when this happened, but it did. There are always sounds around us, some melodious, others not so, but of late, there is more noise than melody.

For example, the Admiral has become intrigued with her smart phone. She has designated a sound for almost every happening in the day. There are different ring tones for everyone on the planet, alarms set to remind her of important stuff, such as getting me to take out the garbage.

Most of these sounds are tolerable, but some are so annoying that I want to smash her phone. There is one in particular which seems to be her favorite. This soft, melodious, tone is so saccharine sweet that it puts my teeth on edge. She used it for almost everything until she realized that I was on the verge of murderous rage. She now has it as her wakeup alarm. I thought it would be too soft to wake anyone, but it would raise me, if not from the dead, at least from a coma.

With my matured hearing, I should be grateful for any sound, but that is not the case. Example, my laptop rests on a device designed to keep it cool. It consists of two small fans that run when the computer is on. I have had it for years and it does a great job of extending the life of said device, but the noise drives me crazy. I leave it on, because some noises I will tolerate, especially if they prevent me from having to shell out a $1,000 for a new computer, but it is so annoying.

I have always had sensitive hearing. There was a time when this was of great benefit as I wandered the jungles of Southeast Asia, but in my advancing years, even with diminished hearing, it has become a burden. Hence, I cannot sleep with snoring in the same room, nor frogs croaking outside my bedroom window. I hear the Princesses turn over in their beds at night, animals walking through the leaves in the yard, the hot water heater coming on in the garage. Noise haunts my dreams.

To solve this noise problem, I have resorted to a noise machine. It is prescribed to combat tinnitus, ringing in the ears. The machine has several sounds to choose from, white noise, which is just static, rain, surf, frogs croaking, etc. I opt for rain, and it works, but the irony of a noise to cancel out the noises is laughable.

I never realized how noisy the world was until my first hunting trip into the interior of Alaska. A bush plane dropped a buddy of mine and I in a remote hunting camp. As we watched the tiny aircraft disappear into the distance, it became profoundly quiet. I could hear my friend breathing, and my own heart beating. The absence of sound was unnerving. We found ourselves near shouting as we went about setting up camp. As we calmed down, we enjoyed the quiet. We began to whisper to see how far away we could get from each other and still hear. At night, when it got even quieter, the rustling of our turning in our sleeping bags sounded like thunder.

I am in a quandary. Sound has become noise, but the world is not quiet, and was never intended to be so. I would be very unhappy without the singing of birds, the howl and bark of coyotes, or the tiny breath of a newborn baby. I know there are those who cannot hear at all who would be grateful for my problem. I feel almost guilty complaining, but it is a trial for me. I suppose the solution is to filter good sounds from the other. I am trying to become a more selective listener. The Admiral says I already have. She suggests that my problem is that I am hard of listening.

David Wilson Atwood is a local writer whose human-interest columns offer a unique perspective. He may be contacted at: www.starchasers.us.