My teenage daughter studies with the
radio turned up so high her teeth rattle.
"Music
that loud can hurt your ears," I shout above the beat of her favorite rock
song.
"I'll
let you know if I feel any pain," she drawls.
"What I
mean is, loud noise levels can cause a loss of hearing."
"Could
you speak a little louder, please?"
"YOUR
BOOM BOX IS TOO LOUD!"
"There's
no such thing as a too-loud boom box," she responds. "Unless of
course, you're listening to elevator music. I can't stand loud elevator music.
Reminds me of the dentist's chair."
Since that
girl's last visit to the dentist with its astronomical bill for the repair of
rattled teeth is something neither of us wants to remember, I try another tack.
"Statistically
speaking, you're probably not going to retain much of anything you study with
all that racket going on."
"Who
wants to retain this stuff? I just want to get it done." She's really on
one now, "I mean, who's going to care ten years from now if I know the
difference between mitosis and acidosis?"
"So
just where do you intend to be in ten years?" I ask.
"Walking
down some runway in France," she dreams. "I'm going to make a million
dollars modeling designer clothes and then buy you the beautiful house you
deserve, with gorgeous furniture and your own sound-proof room."
What can I
say except, "Gee, Honey!" and "Well, out of consideration for
our neighbors who don't have sound-proof rooms, would you mind turning down
your radio a little bit today?"
"OK."
She gives the volume dial a long twist to the right and then turns up the bass.
I shake my
head. She's a good girl, really. Never gives us an ounce of trouble, just a
couple zillion decibels of noise.
October 5, 1995
"Rain or Shine"
The Deseret News
