The Great Pickleball Noise War

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The Great Pickleball Noise War

I was an adult when I started playing tennis seriously,  but try as I might to ratchet up my game I seemed to have plateaued at intermediate level 3.  I was too good to enjoy playing with beginners,  and not good enough to play with advanced players who certainly didn’t want to play with me.   So my tennis life was not  a happy one.   (See Tennis Woes)

Then I discovered pickleball,  the relatively new racket sport that’s all the rage.   Once I started playing I found I was much better at it than tennis,  and I found it much more fun!   (See Pickled!)

We spend half our time in a community that has both indoor and outdoor pickleball courts,  and so for the past several years I’d been happily playing all year round.  Of course when the weather permits,  playing outdoors is undeniably preferable,  and recently with summer approaching we were all eagerly waiting to get back outside.  But then the infamous pickleball noise battle began!

As you may know pickleball is played with paddles and whiffle balls.   And when paddle and ball make contact the loud “whack” is music to our ears – but apparently for those who live within earshot of the courts the constant whacking sound can be disturbing.

In fact in many towns and communities the fight over pickleball noise has led to litigation,  and in some cases the pickleball courts have been closed and the sport banned.

Sad to say that’s now happened on my turf.   Our lovely tree-lined pickleball courts have been shuttered until further notice,  and in frustration we write angry letters,  sign endless petitions,  and argue with our neighbors at loud and contentious town meetings.

And as we anxiously await a resolution to the great pickleball noise war,  out on those empty pickleball courts the silence is deafening.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

How The Boob Tube Turned Muse

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Alright settle down there, Retros. Yes, let us talk about the television, the telly, the boob tube. Now, before you all start clutching your pearls and wailing about the “vast wasteland” that is television, à la Newton Minow, hear me out. Because amongst the endless parade of reality trash and brain-rotting sitcoms, there were gems. Glittering diamonds in the rough, that somehow managed to inspire this cynical lump of protoplasm you are now reading from.

First up, there was this little show called “Monty Python’s Flying Circus.” Now, I know, I know. Groundbreaking. Hilarious. Influential. Blah blah blah. But here’s the thing: Monty Python wasn’t afraid to be absurd. They took the holiness out of absolutely everything, from stuffy institutions to social norms to walking funny. It was like a comedy explosion that detonated right in the middle of my teenage angst. Suddenly, questioning everything, ripping the sacrosanctness out of all authority, and reveling in the nonsensical – it all seemed not just permissible, but encouraged. It was a rebellion I could get behind while sprawled on the sofa, stuffing my face with chips and salsa.

And then there was “The X-Files.” Now, this wasn’t your typical FBI cop show. Sure, there were shootouts and spooky thrills, but there was also this undercurrent of questioning authority, of searching for the truth that was just out of reach. It planted a seed in my grumpy little adolescent head – a seed of curiosity, a yearning to dig deeper, to challenge the status quo. Plus, it had Scully and Mulder, the ultimate will-they-won’t-they tension that kept me glued to the screen even during their commercials for hemorrhoid cream. (Though, let’s face it, those were unintentionally hilarious too.)

Look, I’m not gonna pretend these shows turned me into Mother Teresa or Albert Einstein. But they did spark something. Monty Python showed me the power of humor, of questioning the status quo, and of not taking life too seriously. The X-Files instilled a sense of curiosity, a desire to explore the unexplained. And hey, maybe that’s not a bad takeaway from a few nights parked in front of the Dopamine Box, scoffing down microwaved burritos.

Now, before you all get too misty-eyed, let’s not forget the sheer amount of rubbish that television spews out. But amidst the trash heap, there are these occasional nuggets of inspiration. So next time you find yourself flicking through the channels, bored out of your gourd, don’t despair. You never know when you might stumble upon a show that’ll make you laugh, think, or maybe even question the very fabric of reality. Just remember to mute the commercials. Unless, of course, they’re selling hemorrhoid cream. Because frankly, those commercials are a comedic goldmine.

 

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