Silence is golden

By NAN BROWN
As published Feb. 20, 2008

Things around our house have been awfully quiet the past week or so, and Jack couldn’t be happier. I have laryngitis and am under strict orders from the doctor to talk as little as possible. I am not a happy camper.

Jack, on the other hand, is ecstatic. It took two trips to the doctor to finally get two prescriptions to hopefully knock this stuff out of me. The first doctor’s visit I was told I had an upper respiratory infection and was instructed to take Mucinex and use saline nose spray.

Both were a waste of money because I just kept getting worse. I could tell everything was moving south into my chest, and since I’m prone to bronchitis, I thought I’d better revisit the doctor. During the examination she confirmed I had bronchitis along with laryngitis. Oh joy!

I can’t help but wonder why she couldn’t have prescribed something in the first place thus perhaps preventing the progression. But, lest I forget, doctors don’t seem to operate that way. They’d rather squeeze another office visit and co-pay or two out of you.

Jack accompanied me to both appointments. During the second visit is when the doctor told me I should talk as little as possible. That was music to Jack’s ears, but I swear I thought I saw money exchange hands between him and the doctor immediately prior thereto.

Remember the old way of thinking that children should be seen and not heard? I believe Jack feels that way about wives. Whenever I try to whisper a few sentences, he reminds me of the doctor’s admonishment about talking.

We take certain things for granted, but I never knew how difficult it was to function without a voice. Sure, I’ve had other bouts of illness-induced silence, but hey, who hasn’t? This one though has seemed to take on a life of its own.

Trying to talk on the phone is next to impossible. Our phone rings, and I answer it in my breathless whisper only to be met by silence on the other end. I’m sure the caller probably thinks he or she has reached the wrong number and encountered an obscene caller in the process. I’ve even had a couple of hang-ups once I’ve gasped out my practically inaudible greeting.

Nothing seems to help either. I’m about to finish a 6-day prescription with no relief in sight, and I’ve consumed enough hot tea with honey to float a battleship. Jack would probably change that wording somewhat to “float a battleax.”

I’m open to suggestions – anything from home remedies to voodoo. I’m game at this point. Someone did tell me that drinking hot lemonade helps, so Jack got some sugar free pink lemonade at our local Turkey Hill. It did seem to help temporarily at least, and it tasted awesome.

He pooh-poohs various suggestions we’ve heard, but I think in actuality he’s afraid something might really work.

I was voiceless for the Super Bowl. I really get into football, so it pained me to not be able to scream and holler when Eli Manning scrambled his way out of that pack of Patriots to make the pass that was so miraculously caught by David Tyree. All I could do was wave my arms in a pitiful attempt to show my excitement. Heck, I’m not even a Giants fan, but I do appreciate great football.

What’s perhaps the worst is that I’m in a self-imposed exile from the outside world, and it sure isn’t any fun. Talk about cabin fever. I’m ready to climb the walls. I would sit around and talk to myself to pass the time, but I wouldn’t be able to hear me. How sad is that?

I don’t dare go out in public as I might scare someone when I open my mouth to talk and nothing comes out. A friend of ours kidded me and suggested I might want to learn sign language. I told her it wouldn’t be necessary because Jack is already quite familiar with my sign language, some of which is universal.

I must admit I’ve become very creative in communicating. For instance, I’ll point at the dogs and point at the door which is my way of asking Jack if the pooches have gone out lately. Maybe I should point at the door and then at Jack. I wonder how he would interpret that gesture.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband dearly, but I’m just a bit peeved at how much delight he is deriving from my inability to speak. He is going to be so disappointed when my voice returns. I’ve warned him I’m going to make up for lost time. Silence may be golden, but he’d better enjoy it while he can.

Let me call you sweetheart

By NAN BROWN
As published Feb. 6, 2008

Have you noticed how every January shortly after New Year’s Day everything starts coming up hearts? Valentine’s Day cards, candy and other gifts intended for one sweetheart to give another begin lining store shelves and card racks.

Little did I know as a child when I exchanged those cute little dime-a-dozen Valentine’s cards with classmates that the day would eventually hold such significance for me.

Jack and I were pronounced husband and wife on Feb. 14, 1981 – so we’ll be celebrating our 27th wedding anniversary this year. We became engaged in June of 1980, so when looking ahead to potential wedding dates, I was delighted to realize that Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday the following year.

I thought it would make the perfect anniversary date not only because it was romantic, but I figured Jack would be able to remember it. As it turned out, it was a wise choice on both counts.

In planning the wedding we soon found one sticking point associated with our choice of date. We could not find a florist willing to do fresh flowers for a Valentine’s Day wedding – after all it is their busiest day of the year next to Mother’s Day.

After checking with the couple of florists with which we were familiar and being told they would only do silk flowers, I sat down with the Yellow Pages and starting calling florists one by one. I was determined to have fresh flowers for our wedding but had no luck until I had gotten all the way to the “M” listings and dialed Montgomery Village Florists.

The dear lady I talked with assured me she would be able to do fresh flowers for our Valentine’s wedding. As it turned out I think she overextended herself because she had to stay up all night Friday before our wedding to do the flowers, but her work was lovely and very much appreciated by the bride and groom.

I wish we had such luck with other aspects of the wedding. We arranged with a local bakery for our cake, but I got a call the day before we were to be married informing me the person who did the wedding cakes had walked out and wasn’t coming back.

Since it was too late to line up another bakery I told them to do their best, and as it turned out it wasn’t good enough because our cake was decorated by a novice, and it sure looked it.

Another major snafu regarding our wedding involved the photographer whom we had contracted through what we thought was a reputable local studio. She took lots of pictures before and after the wedding and during the reception.

To our horror, however, when we got the proofs there were only half the pictures we remembered her taking. As it turned out, she had been using film that she thought had thirty exposures, but in actuality it had only fifteen, so we literally had only half of the photos we expected to commemorate this special day in our lives.

I was working for attorneys at the time, and when my boss found out what happened he was livid. He wanted the studio to pay for a complete reenactment of our wedding. I nixed that idea though because I knew it would be hard to get family and friends together again to recapture the special moments we enjoyed.

Despite the complications on our wedding day, we have enjoyed having our anniversary on Valentine’s Day and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Each year around the time of our anniversary I take an antique wooden music box out of the dresser drawer where I keep it carefully preserved then I wind it up and listen to the sweet sound of “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” This box is precious to me as it was given to my dear great-grandmother, “Granny”, by her husband, and it continues to be a loving reminder of a long ago romance. Amazingly, it still plays beautifully despite the fact it is almost 100 years old.

That was their song. Jack and I have a song too - it is “Longer” by Dan Fogleberg who sadly passed away recently at the young age of 56 years. Tears come to my eyes every time I hear our song which, unfortunately, is not often as it’s not played on the radio as much as it once was.

We never did buy the album containing the song, but we’ve agreed we need to do so the next time we’re shopping for CDs. In the meantime, however, “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” will continue to tug at my heartstrings.

May you and your sweetheart have a lovely Valentine’s Day – I know Jack and I will.