One of my favorite things to do is to sit on our front porch on a warm evening ... and listen. If it’s a Thursday night, I’ll catch the sound of a band and laughter coming from the east as the festivities for Uniquely Thursday kick into gear. At the same time I’ll hear a competing sound coming from the south. Start whistles and cheers boom out of the swimming pool, over the tracks and to my perch. I’ll remember with both fondness and exhaustion the days when our family was younger and tried to juggle both, Town Team swim meets and live music fun with friends.
Sure there are sounds of cicadas or a pesky squirrel romping in a bush that sets off a dog barking, both in the distance and from my own living room window. The occasional train rolls by and kids laugh as they pass by in a group. On the luckiest of evenings, I’ll hear our neighbor and musician playing his saxophone along with the accompaniment of jazz music. On those special nights, I feel so fortunate to be an anonymous audience basking in the glow of his talent and commitment to his craft.
I grew up in a cul-de-sac style subdivision with sprawling backyards and meandering streets that had curbs but no sidewalks. It was lovely and I remember big soccer games and lots of space for neighborhood games of tag. The yards were large enough that the first and only way I learned to mow a lawn was on a riding mower. And while those memories hold a warm spot in my heart, as an adult looking for a place to call home, I craved something different. Prioritizing walkability and density, I wanted more commotion and less silence. I enjoy the sidewalks and square blocks of Hinsdale. I have such affection for our alley and its neighbors and mostly, I love the sounds all around us.
Here we hear each other’s phone ring or a car honk as we use the remote lock before bed at night. We bear witness to parties and laughter, and also the occasional bickering (admittedly that comes from my own household of teenagers too often).
Recently I saw a friend who moved away a few years ago. Our kids, now young adults, shared a childhood together as neighborhood playmates. I told her that what I miss most is the “bam-bam-bam” of their sons throwing lacrosse balls against their practice net.
To me these sounds capture so much more than ambient noise. This is the joy and the sorrow, the art and the daily motion of life, all captured in a composition of notes that reflect the beauty of community.
— Carissa Kapcar of Hinsdale is a contributing columnist. Readers can email her at [email protected].
