The O’Toole Chronicles: Sounds of Silence

And the sign said, “The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence”

I was attending a fundraiser the other night for an incredible cause, Tri-County Scholarship Fund, which provides scholarships for students. I was struck by the humanity of the event. The event was honoring four lawyers for their contributions to our society and money was raised to provide opportunities for young men and women who would otherwise have a difficult time affording college. As I drove home, caught up in the moment of charity, I listened to a song, “Sound of Silence,” by Disturbed (yes, I love the Simon and Garfunkel version as well).

There is a moment in the song when the world feels like it’s humming with warnings we’ve gotten too good at tuning out. You really don’t need the lyrics to know that feeling, but it helps. It is that eerie quiet that settles when people stop talking to each other, stop noticing each other, stop caring about what is happening beyond their front door. Lately, that silence seems louder, and that is trouble.

Look around, do you know your neighbor like the days growing up? We see each other and hardly know each other’s names. The reality is we don’t know what is happening behind those doors. People are struggling, parents are working hard to pay for food, healthcare, childcare, caring for the elderly, and education for their children, and it never seems to end. Social services and food banks are more in need and they are stretched thin. The working poor are doing everything right but seem to be falling behind. Many of us, especially those who’ve found some measure of success, have slipped into the comfort of isolation or denial. And it appears that some have stopped caring for those who need help.

Throughout it all, we have somehow convinced ourselves that being busy is the same as being connected. News flash- it isn’t.

If anything, we have built a world now where we have hundreds of digital friends and not one who we would call in a crisis. We have somehow traded community for convenience, as the silence between us has grown into something you can feel in your bones.

What I have come to appreciate is that we are at our very best when we show up for one another.

So, let’s get this straight. If you have built a career, if you have carved out your slice of the American Dream, then you have taken in more than a paycheck and bonus, you have inherited a responsibility, a moral directive , a social calling to do more for others less fortunate.

It is time to break the quiet silence amongst us and talk about how we can help others. We need to make it a priority to reach out and see if we can bring some measure of comfort to those who are suffering, and to those not necessarily asking.

By way of example, reach out to the older neighbor who lost a loved one and is living in silence. An occasional visit to see how they are doing wouldn’t disrupt your schedule. If you see a family, particularly an immigrant family, reach out if they need help navigating the community. A few decades ago, we were all there. From a strange country, trying to make it all happen in this country. Think about staffing and contributing to a local food bank. Think about providing services to any charity. Donate clothes, money, or time. We understand that charity isn’t only about giving money; it is about connectivity to a community. It is refusing to let anyone in our community feel invisible.

Going back to the song, silence in our community — real silence isn’t peaceful. It is dangerous. It is what fills the space when good people stop talking, stop listening, stop caring. It is what grows when we forget where we came from and forget that we are all tied together, whether we act like it or not.

So, let’s break the silence. Let’s talk to our neighbors. Let’s volunteer. Let’s reconnect. Let’s mentor. Let’s welcome.

I’ve come to accept that success doesn’t mean much if it doesn’t ripple out. And a community means little if we are not connected to it and means less if we don’t invest in the people who live among us.

Last note, the song warns us of what happens when we stop listening to one another, stop talking to one another, and stop helping one another.  We can choose silence, or we can choose action, wrapped in compassion, and get connectivity. The call is yours, and you are on the clock.

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence