Just kidding! I don’t mind the sound of roosters at all. I hardly even notice them when they crow, even in the middle of the night. I did when my neighbors first got them because it was a new sound, but now, pah. Whateveh. We live in the country after all, roosters are to be expected. Along with turkeys and all of the other livestock that my neighbors have on their land. I used to rent a little place that had donkeys, ducks of both genders, chickens, and roosters. Right outside of my door. Talk about noisy! But I thought it was great, which is why I rented the place.
But today’s prompt is music, so why am I going on about livestock? Well because what’s music to some people is a cacophony to others. I like the sounds of livestock, and don’t even mind the sounds of dogs barking, so long as it’s not for hours on end. It’s not exactly music to my ears. I mean, it’s more in the terms of background noise that doesn’t really bother me. To others though, it’s something that, when it’s gone, leaves a great emptiness that’s difficult to fill with anything else. That’s why they say you can take the person from the country but you can’t take the country from the person. But to others the sounds of livestock is grating to the nerves. I don’t understand why, but there it is. I remember my landlord in Albuquerque having difficulties renting her little mother-in-law apartment because of the donkeys and fowl she had on her land. Even though she clearly stated in the advertisement that there were donkeys and fowl on the land and that the apartment was, in fact, on the very same land. How can people not realize that animals make noise? And that they don’t keep to our schedules? It’s not like they have a job to go to in the morning, you know. But I didn’t mind. I’d probably still be in that apartment if I hadn’t met my hubby. It really was a cute little apartment and the landlady was nice. A bit flaky, but nice.
So anyway, livestock aside… this post is about differences and the fact that what’s music to one person’s ears is just noise to another’s. For example, I like to listen to what we here in the States like to call “Country” music. Let me rephrase that. I like to listen to country music from the 80’s and 90’s and some of the country music of today, but as with all things, the style of the music has changed, and I don’t necessarily like that change. And that’s okay. I don’t have to. But there are people in this world who cannot stand the sound of country music from the 80’s and 90’s. And that’s okay too. It’s not the only music in the world we have to listen to. No ones forcing them to like it.Just like no one is forcing me to like and/or listen to the country music of today. But my tastes don’t just lie with country music. I have a broad range of musical tastes and quite a few of my friends have openly said to me, “How can you listen to that?” Well, because I like it. But just because I like something doesn’t mean everyone has to. I know that’s not how the world works. Anyone who’s read this blog for any length of time knows that I absolutely adore musicals, but I know that not everyone does. I wish that everyone did, but yeah, I know it’s not true.
This all reminds me of a story I heard as a kid… There was a man who died. Now, he wasn’t an awful man. He’d never killed anyone or anything, but was rather unbearable and insufferable, and his greatest sin was pride. So anyway, he died and found himself before an angel. The angel looked him up in the registry of souls, nodded and said, “Follow me.”
They walked down a long hallway to a rather plain looking door and the angel led him inside. The man stopped and looked around him, horrified. The room, actually many rooms, while pleasantly furnished and filled with all of the basic necessities, were also filled with children. They seemed to be everywhere — climbing over the furniture! Yelling! Screaming with laughter! One of the little monsters even came up to the man and tugged on his pants with a jam covered hand, leaving a sticky stain behind before scampering off with a squeal. He tried to grab the tiny ape, but his hand went right through her. Appalled he looked at the angel… “I demand to know what’s going on here! What is this place?”
The angel, who had been looking at the children with an indulgent smile, beamed at the man, “This,” he replied and swept his hand to indicate the room and its screaming occupants, “is your Hell. This is where you will spend the rest of Eternity. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
The man looked around him again and watched as children raced up and down the stairs and slid down the banister. He watched as they opened and slammed doors. As they spilled milk in the kitchen, as they left food everywhere. Nothing was put away, nowhere was there a quiet place. His hands itched to restore order, and as soon as the angel left, he knew he would set about doing just so. Some of the little trolls even had animals following them everywhere, leaving their own messes and adding their own noises to the din. He looked again to the angel, but the angel was watching the children once again with that stupid smile. Then the man spotted a woman sitting in a comfortable chair talking with one of the children. She didn’t seem stressed or annoyed, and even smiled at something the imp in her lap said. She seemed to not notice the clamor that surrounded her. “What about her?” he asked of the angel, “What is she doing here?”
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to her, she won’t see you or hear you,” the angel answered. “You see,” he smiled at the woman warmly and again swept his arm to indicate the room full of playing children, “She is in her Heaven.”