I saw an old friend the other day.
No, that’s not right.
I saw my oldest friend the other day. I’ve known this dude for nearly 40 years.
Jay and I grew up together. During those halcyon days before finances were demanding to be constantly juggled, compassion was seen as a sign of regrettable weakness, and tinnitus was my constant unwelcome companion we roamed the streets of our little Boston ‘burb. I don’t remember my hearing ever elbowing its way into our friendship. Which is surprising. (Or is that suppressing?)
His voice is smack-dab in the divot of my audiogram. But I have very little trouble hearing what he’s saying. I wonder if that’s due to our decades-long friendship, a friendship that was forged when my brain was forming new neural pathways with great alacrity. I’ve spent more time with him without hearing aids than with. As it’s wont to do, life happened and we drifted apart slowly in high school, then all at once in college. We’d go years without seeing each other or even exchanging emails. But then our orbits would cross once again and we’d get together. But it would be the furthest thing from awkward.
I don’t have many friends. Save your pity, keep your condescension, that’s just not how introverts roll. I get more energized by a profound conversation with one person than I do rocking out at a raucous concert with a gaggle of revelers. My hearing also comes into play here. It’s much easier to hear when there’s not a lot of noise to wade through. And it’s much easier to actively listen when I’m actually interested in the topic. I’m always interested in what Jay has to say.
That day, I was given a lesson in the physics and chemistry of coffee roasting and brewing. It was fascinating. I’ve got an unalloyed thirst for knowledge. I love nothing better than finding out how something works. I can always count on learning something each and every time Jay and I get together. The man is a fount of diverse and deep knowledge that he loves to share. It never comes across as lecturing, preaching, or oh-look-at-me-and-how-much-smarter-than-you-I-am. He simply loves to learn. A trait we share. And so I’m all ears, sub-par though they be, when he’s got something to share. Even if I don’t fully understand it. Be it thanks to sub-par hearing or sub-standard intelligence.
Fittingly, this coffee talk took place at a greasy spoon.
We walked in and waited a tik. The place was hopping. And when, from the other side of the establishment, the server pointed to a table, Jay looked at me and asked if that was ok. I’ve not seen this dude for six years and his first thought was of my hearing. Granted, he’s watched a few episodes of Hearing Things with Julie and Brad so I’m sure that primed him for accommodating thoughts. But such thoughts are rare beasts, indeed. There are few people in my life, people that I see on the regular, that would have had the thought even if I spoke up for myself (another rare beast!) before we walked in the door.
The din of the place was pretty loud. But I was able to sit with my back to the wall and hear most of what he was saying about his coffee side hustle. I had to have him repeat himself a number of times but he didn’t begrudge me that. And he never spoke with a hand masking his mouth. Even when he was chewing. That’s another thing old friends can do: not care about table manners!
And sitting here writing about that, I got to thinking about all the accommodations he provided me back at his house. As he was showing me around the place, he made sure to not talk with his back to me. He was constantly shifting his position so he could look at me as we went from room-to-room. Once he tried to twist around on the stairs so that he could face me. He thought better of it, waiting until we were on the second floor, and turned around to say what he was going to say. His speech was always measured; neither too slow nor too fast, too soft nor too loud. Though the pitch of his voice is one I struggle to hit, it didn’t pose me any problem.
I wonder if it goes back to my learning his voice at a time when my brain’s neuroplasticity was at its height. My mother and my brother are two people whose voices I have zero problem hearing. And not just because Tom is as quiet as an avalanche and my mom’s voice I learned as a matter of not getting in trouble when she called me. Jay’s voice is a third I have no trouble hearing. It never struck me how improbable this was until recently, until I’d had some advocacy under my belt. Back when we were kids, I don’t think we ever talked about my hearing. It was just a part of me. He willingly, and perhaps unconsciously, accommodated me. Now that I’m talking about it, I see that he’s always made accommodations for me. I appreciate him and how his accommodating habit has stayed with him over the decades.
Accommodations
Are easier when started young.
Kids are the future.
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