The Silence Of The Waves

There is silence over the air waves today. Another voice has been stilled. Paul Harvey, a soothing and calming sound upon those waves, has been silenced. His voice, with its mid-America timber and often fatherly advice, has unplugged his microphone, leaving this life at the mature age of 90.
I have been privileged in my lifetime to have heard such voices. The voices of those who sought, not for selfishness or gain, but for good. Whose talents were not “popular”, except with those who appreciated and gained from those talents. Whose voices sounded, not for notoriety, but for goodness.
I remember watching Shari Lewis as a child. She and her cuddly sock-puppet, Lamb Chop. She taught us how to have Fun. Shari would not be popular today, with the digital world we live in. She would not be welcome in a world where everything is at our finger-tips. Where cell-phones connect us to people all over the world, even sometimes (as in getting technical help) when we did not desire it! But she taught us how to have fun with a sock. How to pretend that said sock was a friend, a joy, a comfort. She taught us how to enjoy the simple things in life, instead of locking ourselves away in a world run by megabytes and giga-whizzies. She communicated more with a sock, than any mega-gimmick today.
I remember watching Paul Winchell and his two puppets, Jerry Mahoney and Knucklehead Smith. He taught us about Imagination. To take those pieces of wood, and with the cunning and guile of a wizard, to bring them to life. Paul was a genius. He patented the first artificial heart, and then donated that patent to Dr. Robert Jarvik. Paul’s mind was not his own, but shared with those around him. For children, he was my generations Edgar Bergen. We knew those were only wooden puppets, but we laughed and enjoyed life and did not worry about the future. We were not taught how to kill, wreck or destroy anything. We were taught how to get along, how to live together though different. And we felt everyone else benefitted from such lessons.
I watched Fred Rogers. My children loved his show. He taught us about Self-worth. To be happy with who we were and to enjoy the simple every day actions of life itself. The normalcy of life. The traditions of life. I would creep into the room in the late afternoon of the day as my children sat and watched him, in his simple cardigan sweater. As I type, I am wearing a cardigan, not by design, just by choice. Mr. Rogers was a friend in world where children were finding fewer and fewer friends. He was a few moments of normalcy, in a world where the normal was slowly fading away. And he left a legacy that many children, all over the world, will never forget.
Now Paul Harvey. This generations Will Rogers. A man whose voice soothed a country. He was our cup of coffee in the morning, our pick-me-up during the mid-day, and our comfort as we went home at night. Many times I sat in my car and listened to “The Rest Of The Story” even when I was sitting in my garage. Paul Harvey taught us that it was still good to be an American. That our country, our history, our people, still have hope. His voice was a calming and soothing influence in a world where we felt things were slipping away. His voice was the clarion call, which dispelled the cacophany of the air waves. He was the elixer that settled our national upset stomachs over the selfishness and foolishness that has often enveloped our society.
Now he’s gone. Now they’re gone. Their voices stilled. Their images quickly fading into memory. All we seem to be left with are the disruptive. The self-serving. The “watch me now” generation. The “give it to me now” generation. The “fill in the blank” generation. Who will teach them the fun of the simple? How to use their imaginations? How to learn their own self-worth? How to sound reasonable and happy in an unhappy world? Slowly those who can are fading away, and we wonder who will take their place.