Blessed Silence
Silence is golden. To hear sounds dulled by distance, and be surrounded in the immediate vicinity only by one's own small sounds; the rustle of fabric, the air rushing through the nose, the tickety-tack of the keyboard, an occasional expletive when the wrong key is pressed, the clicking of the second hand on the clock. One's thoughts coherently appear, undiluted by unnecessary noise, pristine as the cold morning.
That is my state on most mornings. When my husband is home, however, things change. The television is turned on. While I don't mind sharing my quiet mornings with my husband, the television is a little island of noise that intrudes on my thoughts, which are then interrupted as small, unasked for items drift in. In the morning I do not care to know how the stock markets are opening in Europe, or how they are closing in the Far East. I don't care about how they are going to "investigate" the latest exorbitant rise in electricity costs, or what one politician disparagingly said to another. I don't care about the damages from the "winter storm of the century" and could care less about tomorrow's weather. Don't get me wrong. I do care about most of those issues, just not in the morning.
My husband and I do have quiet moments, which I enjoy. But my husband likes noise from the minute he wakes up. He grew up in a large family, and quiet was a rarity at home. Whenever my husband is awake at home, the television is almost always on, even if he doesn't watch it, because he wants to have the impression of noise and bustle. When our daughter is home, the television isn't necessary for the noise, but it gets turned on, anyway, and a tranquil Sunday morning is transformed into a noisy Sunday morning.
Love of television is practically universal in most of Spain. In almost every household, in almost every village, the television is turned on at breakfast, and turned off at bedtime. Wander into any house, and the television will be shouting its wares, usually to people who become aware of its existence only if it is turned off. I learned when I was a child (though not from my parents, very much Spanish in their habits) that when a guest arrives it is polite to turn off the television if it is on, and give my full attention to him or her. Not in Spain. Here, a guest is encouraged to participate in the shouting, to be heard over the television, or to remark on whatever is on the screen.
And that is only with the television in the kitchen. Most families have more than one television. Some of our neighbors think us either strange or poor because we have only one television in our kitchen/living/dining room. Ask someone how many tv's they have, and they will start counting. One in the living room, one in the kitchen, one in the master bedroom, one in the children's bedroom, and sometimes one or two more in other rooms, just in case someone doesn't agree with whatever everybody else is watching. Family life has been reduced to people in different rooms watching different televisions. And then parents complain they don't know their children. Once upon a time, families would gather round the hearth and talk before going to bed shortly after sunset. Now, they might meet at lunch to remind each other they still exist.
I do watch television, but at night. At midday it's on a news program while we eat, because neither my husband nor my father are at peace with it off. My daughter and I could care less. At night, that is when I like to watch the news to know what has been happening. Some nights there are also programs afterwards that don't assault the intelligence too badly and can be watched with a minimum of wincing. Other nights, it's a question of passing the time with books and magazines while my husband gets his fill of an action movie. Occasionally, he also decides the television is a waste of time, and chooses to read or converse, as well. Most nights, though nothing worthwhile is showing, it still stays on while we talk, because my husband loves to be surrounded by noise. I sigh, and try to ignore the noise while we chat. I don't think we'll ever agree on this one.
That is my state on most mornings. When my husband is home, however, things change. The television is turned on. While I don't mind sharing my quiet mornings with my husband, the television is a little island of noise that intrudes on my thoughts, which are then interrupted as small, unasked for items drift in. In the morning I do not care to know how the stock markets are opening in Europe, or how they are closing in the Far East. I don't care about how they are going to "investigate" the latest exorbitant rise in electricity costs, or what one politician disparagingly said to another. I don't care about the damages from the "winter storm of the century" and could care less about tomorrow's weather. Don't get me wrong. I do care about most of those issues, just not in the morning.
My husband and I do have quiet moments, which I enjoy. But my husband likes noise from the minute he wakes up. He grew up in a large family, and quiet was a rarity at home. Whenever my husband is awake at home, the television is almost always on, even if he doesn't watch it, because he wants to have the impression of noise and bustle. When our daughter is home, the television isn't necessary for the noise, but it gets turned on, anyway, and a tranquil Sunday morning is transformed into a noisy Sunday morning.
Love of television is practically universal in most of Spain. In almost every household, in almost every village, the television is turned on at breakfast, and turned off at bedtime. Wander into any house, and the television will be shouting its wares, usually to people who become aware of its existence only if it is turned off. I learned when I was a child (though not from my parents, very much Spanish in their habits) that when a guest arrives it is polite to turn off the television if it is on, and give my full attention to him or her. Not in Spain. Here, a guest is encouraged to participate in the shouting, to be heard over the television, or to remark on whatever is on the screen.
And that is only with the television in the kitchen. Most families have more than one television. Some of our neighbors think us either strange or poor because we have only one television in our kitchen/living/dining room. Ask someone how many tv's they have, and they will start counting. One in the living room, one in the kitchen, one in the master bedroom, one in the children's bedroom, and sometimes one or two more in other rooms, just in case someone doesn't agree with whatever everybody else is watching. Family life has been reduced to people in different rooms watching different televisions. And then parents complain they don't know their children. Once upon a time, families would gather round the hearth and talk before going to bed shortly after sunset. Now, they might meet at lunch to remind each other they still exist.
I do watch television, but at night. At midday it's on a news program while we eat, because neither my husband nor my father are at peace with it off. My daughter and I could care less. At night, that is when I like to watch the news to know what has been happening. Some nights there are also programs afterwards that don't assault the intelligence too badly and can be watched with a minimum of wincing. Other nights, it's a question of passing the time with books and magazines while my husband gets his fill of an action movie. Occasionally, he also decides the television is a waste of time, and chooses to read or converse, as well. Most nights, though nothing worthwhile is showing, it still stays on while we talk, because my husband loves to be surrounded by noise. I sigh, and try to ignore the noise while we chat. I don't think we'll ever agree on this one.
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