Paul Simon's "Sounds of Silence"

What a great song! A few weeks ago, my professor for an online course asked the class to take a look at its lyrics and respond to it. No one took him up on his request except me, so I'm not sure if my response is what he's looking for. Nevertheless, the English major in me took over when I finally got a chance to look at the lyrics. I have no idea if I'm close to the mark, but I just had a great time analyzing these lyrics! I got something like this out of it:

Verse #1:Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again / Because a vision softly creeping / Left its seeds while I was sleeping / And the vision that was planted in my brain / Still remains / Within the sound of silence.

In the first verse, the speaker talks of darkness, his old friend. This darkness is the result of a world saturated in empty, mindless "crap" that is produced today. Since Paul Simon is a musician, I assume he's talking about contemporary music (of the 1960s perhaps). The darkness isn't an absence of all light, so to speak; rather, it's an absence of the light that results from music of substance -- quality music. Darkness is his old friend because it's been around a while for him; he feels an association with it. The paradox of the sound of silence is similar to the darkness metaphor. A light that cannot be seen, a song that cannot be heard.

Verse #2:In restless dreams I walked alone / Narrow streets of cobblestone / 'Neath the halo of a street lamp / I turn my collar to the cold and damp / When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light / That split the night / And touched the sound of silence.

The next verse talks about the speaker walking alone in his dreams, the birthplace of so many creative ideas. There's a contrast between the halo of the street light (which guides the way on a journey) and the flash of a neon light (which guides someone into a terminus -- a bar, store, etc.). In the darkness, the flashing neon light gives comfort because one can assume shelter or safety lies within. A street light offers a way to go, but no terminus in sight. So, which is more important -- the journey or the destination? This metaphor takes the idea of light and further defines it as different types of light. The speaker sees an absence of a guiding light, yet there is probably a plethora of neon lights that lure people in and halts their journeys. The music that the speaker is talking about is more like the neon lights.

Verse #3:And in the naked light I saw / Ten thousand people maybe more / People talking without speaking / People hearing without listening / People writing songs that voices never shared / No one dared / Disturb the sound of silence.

The next verse brings in the image of the multitudes of people out there -- people who talk without speaking / listen without hearing and people who are too afraid to voice their songs. The first group puts forth a paradox that make sense in today's world -- look at some of the pop songs out there (*cough-*cough, Justin Bieber -- *cough). People pretending to take in the words of others, but there are two problems. One, the words of others are empty. Two, the people listening care only about themselves. The second group puts forth the idea of people being too afraid to say what they really feel. They're afraid for some reason or another. Whatever the case, these people are hesitant to disturb the peace and speak out.

Verse #4:"Fools," said I, "you do not know / Silence like a cancer grows / Hear my words that I might teach you / Take my arms that I might reach you" / But my words like silent raindrops fell / And echoed in the wells of silence.

Verse four establishes a crazy metaphor -- a powerful one. I can't figure it out, however. Is the speaker saying that the silence is like a cancer and it will kill humanity? Or, is he saying that the silence spreads quickly like a cancer and that's the extent of the analogy? But this verse is the first time the speaker directly addresses someone. His words, however, fall like silent raindrops. This is a recurrence of the silence metaphor, but also the addition of the rain metaphor. Rain is symbolic of healing, nourishment, and cleansing... which is just what the people need, but they cannot accept because they do not see that they need it.

Verse #5:And the people bowed and prayed / To the neon god they made / And the sign flashed out its warning / In the words that it was forming / And the sign said "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls / And tenement halls / And whispered in the sound of silence.

The final verse reflects the importance that people have put on the neon lights -- the terminus, the objective of happiness -- they're like neon gods. In its flashing light (which is how the neon light attracts attention) it is also being ironic. It says one thing to the masses: "Come on in, you'll be happy, it'll feel good," but to the other people who truly listen, it says another thing, a warning: "I'm just a simple, pretty flashing light, nothing more." It tells the listener, the one who would find happiness on the journey, that the true words of wisdom are where you least expect to see them: the graffiti on the walls of the subway station (another metaphor for the journey) and on the halls of the tenements (the passages that lead to the homes of the meek). How often do we listen to the poor and uneducated for wisdom? How often do we look for deep messages in the simplest of writings?

With the convergence of all of the different media (internet, television, radio, print, etc.), there's more and more "crap" (sorry for the lack of more intelligent-sounding word... but when it comes down to it, "crap" is the best word to describe crap) placed in front of us. Where do we look for quality messages? More importantly, where do we find it? People are afraid to put their ideas out there for lots of reasons. They don't want to offend anyone else. They don't want to be attacked. They don't want to be marginalized or categorized. They don't want to reveal themselves in a world full of diverse thoughts. They don't want to compromise their insecurities.

Whether this was Paul Simon's message or not, I don't care. It's a good song, I found some meaning behind it, and life goes on.

Day 5 -- One Day at a Time

We both woke up this morning feeling pretty good. This chair I'm sleeping on isn't the best, but I get a decent night's sleep. I woke up sleepy and with a stuffy nose, but all the little things I might complain about are so petty. I'm not going to waste my breath. I'm not the one on bed-rest 24-hours-a-day.

This is day five in the hospital, and our little girl is now 24 weeks and 2 days along. One more day in the womb is worth one week in NICU, they say.

The flowers mom and dad sent us.

I thought that I had things together pretty well until yesterday. Mom and dad sent flowers, which was such a kind gesture for them. They still haven't been here to visit, but that's only because I asked them not to come. If I had anything to say about it, I'd hold off on having visitors until she's off the monitors and able to sit up better. They want to come in, though. Also, Emily's work sent cupcakes and a card signed by lots of her co-workers. I saw a bunch of names on the card that I recognized. People she's talked about often the last few years. Both the flowers and the cupcakes made me tear up a little, but not until I was by myself. This is probably my big downfall, trying to keep my emotions in check, not letting on if I get upset.

We had a couple of visitors stop by yesterday, too. Emily's college friend Jessica brought in her two adorable kids. Jessica, who's visiting from the Chicago area, had a great conversation with Emily, distracting her and keeping her mind off of things. Em had received a blood transfusion yesterday morning and the doctor had put her back on the magnesium. She was so groggy and out of it, and when she was awake, she needed something to occupy her mind. Sandy Spector also came by the room around lunchtime, giving us another great conversation.

Emily made a comment earlier today that made me think about my own day-to-day habits. She said something along the lines of never taking a free moment for granted ever again. To me, it got me thinking about all the times when Brody has come up to me while I'm reading my school books, watching television, or doing something else at the moment. He wants me to play trains with him or put together his puzzles or read his books to him. I'm good about dropping everything and enjoying some quality time with my boy -- most of the time -- but it just makes me realize even more how little time we have before he grows beyond this phase. Emily may have been meaning something about getting up and cleaning house or doing some odd chores with her comment, but this is where my train of thought went. She's always been great about being a mother and doing what's best for Brody. The secret is that I think she does better at her parenting role than I do with mine.

It's unfortunate that it's this hospital stay that has made us realize this kind of stuff, but if there needs to be a positive, this is a good one. I need to keep note of what little things I realize each day -- take time to jot something down every day. If I compile a list, one day at a time, and make sure I revisit that list down the road, who knows how much better off I'll be, and who knows how much better life will be for my family.

Day 4 -- It Doesn't Make It Much Easier

Today is our 4th day at Overland Park Regional Medical Center. We've been here since late Friday night. It still doesn't feel real to me. There have been no real answers coming out from the specialists, and I don't want to leave Emily's side. I'm scared about what might happen while I'm gone. If I'm running an errand around town, no problem. I'm close, but what if I'm home in Louisburg?

All these petty questions keep dominating my mind. What about Brody? He needs his mommy and daddy, and he needs to be with us. He needs his home. Every night for as long as we can remember, we've gone to bed with Brody. We haven't done this since we came to the hospital. What about our home? We left it in disorder. I'd been home all week and still left the place in a mess. What about my school work, my projects for classes, and preparation for the new school year?

I'm doing whatever I can to keep mind off the news we've been getting. They say that no news is good news, but what about vague news? We've heard nothing concrete. Several doctors have been in and out of our room -- Emily's regular OB-GYN, the perinatologist, the doctor from NICU. All I know is that my wife and daughter are okay. There's nothing I know about when she'll have to deliver, or when our baby will decide to come. It's a horrible waiting game, knowing that both of them are okay, but there could still be a storm coming.

I've never been in this kind of situation before. When they told Emily that she'll have to be on bed-rest for the duration of the pregnancy -- at the hospital, no less -- I couldn't grasp what that meant. I just can't imagine what being on bed-rest will be like. She will be doing this for the next few days (worst case) or the next 10 weeks (best case).

With all the health issues and questions of everyone's safety, how could anyone think about the mundane things such as homework, housework, and professional work? For me, and I imagine or anyone, it's a way to distract us from the serious issues before us. I can't help but think about Emily and her job. She went home Friday afternoon, looking forward to hanging out with me and our son that evening. Tasks were left undone because they could wait until the weekend is over. Now someone else has to take care of it. She can't work from the hospital, and she can't get back in to prepare things for whomever will be covering her position.

Our little girl is 24 weeks and 1 day along. When she will decide to come, or when Emily's body decides to deliver, we don't know. Our baby will be so tiny, so weak, so exposed. How long will it be before she's strong enough for us to hold her?

This makes me think about an old friend and his infant son. At 1 month old, the baby developed a type of cancer that had hospitalized him for months. It was so long before my friend could hold his son or take him home. As long as my friend's son was in danger, I had felt guilty talking about my son and the funny things he would do. If I were in his shoes, I wondered if I would have been bitter, asking why this has to happen to us instead of someone else. I didn't want to add to the possibility of him having those feelings.

It's all I can do to keep from having those same feelings right now.

Emily's doctor thinks that this whole thing is a partial placental abruption. Only part of the placenta has detached from the uterine wall; the rest is still attached. It could either tear away more and lead to a very early delivery or it could grow further attached and hold on as long as it can. The doctor thinks that it could have been caused by a defective gene that causes a clotting disorder. Another doctor had mentioned that it could possibly be that the placenta had attached to her scar tissue from the septum surgery. I wish we knew for sure, but the experts can't figure it out.

All I know is that there was too much blood for me to ever forget. Friday night, I've never been that scared in my life. I mean truly scared -- there's the fear I've felt when I was young and afraid of the dark, when I was a teenager and about to get in a fist fight, and anytime when a tornado is in the area. This is different. This is fear for someone I love.

We've made it four days without having to deliver. The doctor said that making it through the first 24 hours was huge, and the same for the next 24 hours. Now it's one day at a time. Another doctor told us that of the people who are in this situation at this point in the pregnancy, 50% of them deliver and 50% go on one more week. Of those people going on one more week, 50% of them deliver and 50% of them go on one more week, and so on. Moving from one day to the next is a good thing. One day at a time, they say. They keep positive, but it doesn't make things easy for us.

We've been getting lots of prayers coming from friends and family. I feel like I haven't prayed enough. I've tried; I've bowed my head and tried to speak to God, but I don't know if my words are the right kind of words. I don't know if I deserve to have my words heard. Emily and our daughter deserve it, though. We have a loving God who will protect us, and I'll never give up on asking for His help.