Of all the luxuries in life, nothing is more difficult to get, and preserve,
than quiet.
In the middle of Chicago, I lived six feet away from a truck, bus and
motorcycle highway. When spring brought the first breeze that made you
remember that windows also go in the “up” position, the very next minute
brought the roar of a Hog, shifting gears with a volume loud enough to make
you bolt straight up from a deep sleep, as if you were a corpse suddenly
achieving full rigor mortis. Noise pollution creates the need to keep windows
closed, which creates the need to use a mechanical air flow system, which
uses more electricity even in ambient room-temperature weather, which
creates more noise from compressors, chillers and generators. The EPA
reports that now indoor air pollution is worse than outdoor pollution, due to
sealing up our homes to keep out the noise.
Moving to West Virginia was my best hope to escape the noise of sound
pollution. Unfortunately, the dreaded leaf blower followed me here.
Leaf blowers actually do no work, if work is defined as "the effort to
overcome obstacles and achieve an objective.” Removing leaves that were
functional all spring and summer but now seemingly require a contraption of
obscene inefficiency as the preferred process to banish them from the grass
that they were meant to nourish and protect from the frosts of winter, makes
as much sense as if homeowners decided that an entire tree must be
uprooted annually in order to spare one centimeter of clutter onto the sod
where they will drive their mowers next spring.
But the leaf blower is not just the blower of leaves. It is the demolisher of
quiet, the ruin of silence, the insane logic that makes the user believe that
the process of the stately elm shedding its chlorophyll-producing growth
should be blown, not raked, collected or vacuumed, not even shredded for
compost or mulch, by a shoulder-slung bazooka-like machine that pushes
the foliage from one side of the pavement to the other, and that it is
acceptable to force the blasting of it into the delicate pressurized canals of
our ears, audible from hundreds of yards up the road.
There are specific, detailed ordinances against “Excessive Noise,” and
according to Berkeley County law, a leaf blower far exceeds the 60-decibel
level to qualify as excessive; but then it exempts those levels---and the
time limit spent shattering them---for “lawn, garden or household
equipment associated with the normal repair, upkeep or maintenance of
property.”
But the Law of Community, violated by unnecessary, excessive, arbitrary
noise and air pollution created by the decision of one leaf-blowing
individual, is sadly being abused like some disposable ideal, much like the
dead leaf from the tree, first being blown by the wind, then by a hostile
invention that robs us of the luxury of our quiet. And in communities with
homes on expansive yards that were purchased in order to enjoy the
outdoors, where I rarely see anyone outside---these property owners now
buy jet engines to maintain their cosmetic definition of nature, insuring
that virtually no one else can enjoy the outdoors due to the noise of its
upkeep, either by them or their neighbors. It’s a paradox, and an
expensive, dirty one.
So, get rid of your leaf blowers and try letting the leaves lie where they
belong, like people in so many other communities across America have
done. Because if my ears can hear you from half a mile away, you have
invaded my home just the same as if you had trespassed on my property
in person.
Anothercarolwilliams
Shepherdstown, West Virginia