Is the Noise of the 4th Noise? - Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

It was early morning in The Berkshires as I sat on my deck appreciating the golds and muted yellows quietly entering my space, the only accompanying sounds those of croaking frogs, peeping birds and my coffee sips, I welcomed the peace and quiet. How nice. The corollary to that is my lack of appreciation for noise. Sounds can be nice; noise can be prickly, and there are days when I just want them to go away.

For the most part, noise is an unwanted sound. In our Bristol neighborhood, I am surrounded almost daily by the engines of leaf blowers, lawnmowers and, on occasion, tree cutters cranking out their vibrations in unrelenting bursts. I must admit; I too am guilty.

OK, I might complain about those sounds and wish they were muted or absent, but in this time of year, as the celebrations of the 4th approach and the pervasive sounds of the season become loud enough to be even more annoying than leaf blowers, I realize that I kinda like them.

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The crackle of salutes, the pop of a Roman candle, the flair of a pinwheel echo through the neighborhood. I like the blasts of rockets soaring to the night sky with their showers of rainbow lights. I like the popping, hissing, cracking and bang-bang of firecrackers. And I thrill to the penetrating explosions at the end of the holiday fireworks.

I remember the days of our giant neighborhood bonfire on the night before the 4th, one we planned for days in advance. I can see the flames dancing to the sky, hear the cracks of burning wood, the simmer of the tar on the street, and the boom, the big boom when someone threw the ultimate weapon of the 4th, the cherry bomb, into the fire. I still harbor the smell of the heavy smoke.

The colors were no longer of nature. They were the yellows, reds, blues, and greens of THE fire.

I knew enough to stand back from the heat of it, but not too far from my love of it. The alarm of the approaching fire truck was my ticket to head home.

As I lay in bed on Wealth Avenue in Providence, I heard again the sound that hit the boom chart, exploding enough to give me pause three floors above the street. It was another cherry bomb, this time strategically placed under a can to intensify its blast. I pictured the can flying high to the sky. And there was another, and another. Boom, boom, and rattle! I flipped around the bed as I anticipated more.

Fireworks and the howls of excited kids remind me of the days of my youth. It was my neighborhood.

Save for the 4th, neighborhood noise may be unwanted, sometimes excessive. But the noise of fireworks is different. It is a sound that means we are celebrating the Fourth of July.

Noise limits may be important for human comfort, but never, no never, on the 4th!

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here. 

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