music and silence

We take for granted the presence of any/all of our senses. I don't think anyone who has all 5 can imagine what it's like to lose, or to have never had, one or more of the senses.

A friend, who before this weekend was more of an acquaintance, and I spent much of the early part of the bus and train trip comparing notes on our favorite bands. For both of us, it was the first time in Denver that either had met someone else who was an 80s college radio type and he was as jealous as I of the friends back in NYC who were going to see Mitch Easter and the dBs that night.

As we watched the sky turn deep blue from the vantage point of one of the raised viewing cars we had a crash course in the politics and nature of deaf culture from the sign language interpreters. One was telling us about taking a blind and deaf person on a tour of the mint just days earlier - telling us about the nature of describing space in terms of the senses that the person does have. It's interesting to realize the difference between a deaf person who is part of a hearing family versus a multigenerational deaf family.

What would it be like, to not only not have a particular sense but to have never had it - to not know what it would be like TO have it versus missing it after having had it. If I had to give up a sense, how would I choose? I think many people would choose taste or smell, but I don't think anyone really considers those valuable until they're lost, even temporarily such as when one has a cold. Just another one of those variables that it's hard to wrap the brain around; not having the music, the sun setting over the Rocky Mountains, the view of the Golden Horn at all hours of the day and night from the Hali Hotel, the taste and sound combos of many great dinners in Istanbul . . . not the thing I really want to have to consider. The thought tangent that makes me appreciative.