The Sound of Silence

There is a saying: “Nothing is noisier than a house with children, and nothing quieter than a house without children.”

As an only child, our home was as quiet as a library closed for the week. In wintertime, the sun sometimes dropped as early as 5 p.m. — not much time for my friends and me to make noise. I would come home from school, watch TV, and try to get out of doing homework. The only thing heard was me tapping a pencil as I pretended to do a math problem. 

After dinner, Mom and Dad were in their bedroom smoking and watching their shows while I watched in my room on my 12-inch black-and-white portable. I craved the noise of my friends.  

Thirty-plus years later, God gave me a wife and three noisy boys. When I was not on the road working, not a day went by (for the next 18 years) without me playing some game with someone.  Every inch of our 1,706-square-foot house was filled with noise. The $7,000 hearing aids that I wear today are partially due to all the noise in our home during those years. If we didn’t hear anything for 10 seconds, we would run to ensure they were all still alive. 

On Shabbat, the back and front yards were filled with our kids and their friends playing wiffle ball, slip and slide, table games, and kids accusing each other of cheating. There were tears, an occasional broken bone, and screaming so loud that only a jet filled with people dropping from the sky could rival it.  The dog gobbled up everything edible that dropped on the floor. 

Every parent comes close to going insane during those early years. Then they must scramble when they find out the kids are getting out of school at noon instead of 4 p.m. Who’s screaming now as they must leave work early for the fifth time that month?

Yet, I miss those days more than you can imagine. There was an aliveness to them that nothing else compares to.

Now, as empty nesters, except for an hour before bed, neither my wife nor I watch much TV. I use a small Bluetooth speaker to play classical music when I write at home. When my wife works from home, except for clicking her keyboard, our house is quiet.

The days of Shabbat meals with 15 people jammed into a table that fits only 12, mostly kids, are long gone. If it’s just us, we enjoy a low-key meal, reading, and a nap. We chat, but we are not Lillian Hellman and Dashiell Hammett discussing our latest novel or play while getting drunk, hurling obscenities, and then passing out. Amazingly, they got a lot done. 

It’s a quiet life — and a good life. As I get older, I’ve learned to make friends with the quiet. 

But now, once again, new noise has entered our lives. These are our grandchildren. Let the screaming begin.

But now, once again, new noise has entered our lives. These are our grandchildren.  Let the screaming begin.

Today, all three of our kids have their own places. Two of our three have children, and their homes are filled with screaming, arguing, bartering, and love.

My wife and I sit in our chairs, watching with delight as they tear up our house. We love it. Once again, our living room has been transformed into an indoor park/gym. Toys are strewn across the floor. The couch has been turned back into a trampoline. Lamps are being knocked over. The living room rug is used as a changing table. The old dog our kids grew up with has passed, but the new one has taken up the role — gobbling chicken nuggets and Pringles and running off with parts of their toys.

For many years, there were no toys in the house. Back are the fire truck, kitchen set, and magnet tiles. Also, “Goodnight Moon,” along with “Where’s Waldo?” — and God bless Waldo, who, without Botox, hasn’t aged a bit. Let’s not forget pulling the dog’s tail. 

God willing, my wife and I will remain in good health and still be able to bend down to play on the floor and pick up what’s left after they’ve gone home.

These may be the best years of our lives.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”