Silent treatment frustrates editor
A couple of weeks ago, my son, Bryan, came home for the weekend, and we decided to take in the Steelers’ night practice at Latrobe High School. We had a great time catching up on things and getting a glimpse of the 2008 Steelers.
We were on our way back to Uniontown when suddenly it happened. Between Connellsville and Uniontown, I gradually lost my voice. I had felt a tingle in my throat earlier in the day, a sign that perhaps I was getting a cold. And my voice did sound a little raspy all day, but I felt fine and thought it was nothing serious. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would lose my voice.
This was a first for yours truly, and it really knocked me for a loop. My friends and family all know that I love to talk. I think it’s because I have a lot to say but others differ. They have a lot of names for me, the most common adjective I can’t print in this column.
I always think I’m a good listener too, but I’m sure that comment would draw more than a few chuckles from my friends and foes alike.
Anyway, I’ll admit that I love to talk. So, suddenly not being able to speak in anything above a whisper was downright crazy. I awoke Saturday morning and there was still no improvement. So, I did what we all do these days when we have a medical ailment. I went to the Internet and did a search for laryngitis. I was relieved to find that in most cases, it goes away within a few days. But there were cases where it lasted for weeks and in very rare instances could be a symptom of cancer.
Well, I thought, at least the odds were on my side that this wasn’t going to be serious or a long-term problem. But then it hit me. Saturday night was my turn to work the Herald-Standard booth at the Fayette County Fair. I thought about calling off, but I knew it would be hard to find a replacement at this late date. And besides that, I enjoy going to the fair and talking to all the people who come by our booth. I always see a lot of people I know, and it gives me a chance to hear what readers are saying, bad or good about the paper.
So, I decided to go. But it was not a fun night. I have to apologize to those who came by the booth expecting to have a chat. It was simply impossible to have a conversation. When I did speak, people either couldn’t hear me or couldn’t understand me. It was frustrating to say the least.
My voice wasn’t much better on Sunday. I went to church where I’ve sung ever since I was in the choir as a grade-school student. Not saying I do it well or know what I’m doing, but singing has just been something I’ve always done in church. Needless to say, though, doing any kind of chirping that day was out of the question.
So, I had to sit there in silent frustration listening to others singing away freely and beautifully.
Naturally, in the middle of all this was my wife, Linda. And if you think she enjoyed it, you’re right. I had to endure more than a few jokes from her at my expense. But the only thing harder than talking was listening to my voice, which now sounded like sandpaper.
Everyone here at the Herald-Standard also delighted in my difficulty. No one had to put up with my long-winded explanations or harangues on the various issues of the day. Meetings were much shorter than normal and people in the the newsroom seemed to take particular delight in knowing that the boss couldn’t raise his voice above a whisper.
The strangest thing was that while I sounded horrible, I felt fine. I had none of other ailments that usually go with a cold or sore throat. In fact, my throat felt OK for the most part. But it was a weird feeling wanting to say something and not being able to do it.
Over the next couple of days, my voice gradually returned to normal, and I was able to resume giving everyone the benefits of my expert opinions on just about anything.
But I did so with a renewed appreciation for the gift of gab. It was something I’ll never take for granted again.
Mark O’Keefe is the executive editor of the Herald-Standard. O’Keefe can be reached by e-mail at mo’keefe@heraldstandard.com, by regular mail at 8