The Sounds of Silence

A young man leaves Scotland to study in New York where he gets an apartment. His Ma calls a few weeks later to see how he’s doing. “Terrible,” he reports. “The guy in the apartment beside me screams all night long. And the guy in the apartment on the other side of me bangs his head against the wall all night.” Ma is concerned. “How do you cope with all this, Laddie?” she asks. “I just play my bagpipes to block out the noise,” says her clear-thinking boy.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.