The word barbakoa, is an Arawakan word meaning “framework of sticks set upon posts” When the Spanish arrived in Haiti, they decided the Arawakans couldn’t spell and changed it to barbacoa. They must have been hungry when they did so, because they also reworked the definition to be “framework for grilling meat, fish, etc”. I’m not sure what animal an etc comes from, but I am sure Americans decided that the Spanish couldn’t spell either and that’s how we got to barbecue. From there laziness took over and we’ve been spelling it BBQ since the 1980s. See, the laziness o’ speling in text has a long histry!.
(Source: https://www.etymonline.com/word/barbecue)
No matter how you spell it or how lazy you are, I do love me a good BBQ. Hell, If the food is good enough, I do love me a bad BBQ. (I’m on team charcoal. But I’d not pass up a propane fueled BBQ if it’s the only game in town). What I don’t love is the cornucopia of hearing challenges a BBQ serves up.
Being an outdoor activity (at least I hope you’re not BBQ’ing indoors) the elements are the first challenge set upon me. First up is my old nemesis: rain. Sure, no one likes a rainy BBQ but it’s a lot easier to dry a soggy burger bun than it is to dry a soggy hearing aid.Since, BBQ season usually doesn’t overlap with hood season, I’m rarely afforded the opportunity to just wear a hoodie and toss it over what insurance companies call my cosmetic device. And not all BBQs are on Julie’s level. The Down the Tubes prelude was played out at a BBQ under a tent.
At that same BBQ it was cooler than the surface of the sun. Barely.
And that introduces another challenge; hot air and sweat. My bionic ears are mildly uncomfortable on the best of days. On the hottest of days, they’re mildly unbearable. The hot air actually hastens the demise of the tubing that connects the electronic bits to the mold. Since the tubing is a malleable plastic, it expands in the heat.When I inevitably duck inside for air conditioned refuge, the plastic will cool off and in so doing contract. Over time the tubing loses its elasticity and becomes rigid, which causes sound to bounce around like a Plinko disc on the way to my inner ear. Which means my bionic ears don’t work as well.
But that’s something that doesn’t happen at the BBQ. The side-effects of having plastic jammed in my ears does happen at the time.
I’m always aware that they’re there. But during a toasty BBQ, the molds become oppressive and my ears start to itch as they sweat beneath the plastic.I’ll start to fiddle with them periodically. Sometimes I’ll wiggle the mold in place, scratching that itch. I’ll do it one aid at a time because when I do, it distorts the sound being delivered by that aid. Sometimes, though, I’ll need blessed relief and take the damned thing out to give myself a momentary break. I also fear for aid itself. It sits behind my ear next to my hair. As the sun beats down on me I start to sweat.
Sweat is water.
Water is the enemy.
Thank Yoda that hearing aid technology has come as far as it has. There are very few gaps for the sweat to invade. There are two smaller-than-pin-pricks through which the microphones pick up the sound of music. And all the other sounds.The battery door snaps shut, sealing off any gaps that might be there. But being mechanical, they’re subject to wear and tear. I’d not be surprised if my old nemesis were able to find a way in as my aids age.
Speaking of music, be it band or boom box, that can present another challenge. Background sounds are always challenging. Live bands are more challenging because they do tend to be louder. As the band plays on, I may have to get up and move. BBQs rarely have assigned seating. If I’m sitting with my back to the band, I’ll usually get up and get some food, hoping that I’ll be able to snag a seat facing the band upon my return. (I’ve heard some people say that this is the wrong way to do it. Most aids have noise cancellation functionality which would sense that there’s someone in front of me that I’d prefer to hear than the sound behind me. I don’t find this to be the case. Maybe it’s psychosomatic at this point. I don’t know. Old habits are hard to break.)
As loud as it is outside, I find it louder if the crowd moves indoors. In the great wide open the sounds can go up up and away. That means I do have to be closer to the source of the sound I’m actively listening to. But it also means I only have to sift through all the background noise but once. If the crowd moves inside, the sounds bounce around and create quite the clamor. The multiple conversations that floated away outside, are revisited upon my poor little ears time and time again inside. All that cross-talk makes it incredibly difficult to make out any of the conversations. This difficulty is actually how DTT got its start.
All those challenges means your friendly neighborhood hard of hearing fellow runs out of steam quickly. Combine that with my introversion and I’ll need a day to recover from all the active listening and people-ing. But I’ve always had a soft spot for BBQs.I love the food and there’s usually a good beer or two. Plus the struggles I know I’ll encounter means I’ll have to deem the people at the party worth it to go in the first place. And BBQs have taken on an even more special place in my heart. Since one in 2024 literally changed my life.
Active listening
and people-ing are worth it.
Grey smoke in blue sky.
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