More than 50 years ago, my late husband, Arnie, and I moved to Woodmere. We were unconcerned that the home we purchased was situated next to a public school, but more than a few friends, as well as many family members, thought we were crazy for buying next to a school. We never bothered to address those comments.
Monday through Friday, vehicular traffic was an issue every morning between 7:00 and 7:30 and every afternoon between 3:00 and 3:30 as school buses descended upon us like those proverbial locusts. The entire street was a vision in yellow. But that didn’t pose a problem for us since Hubby left for work earlier than 7:00 a.m. and arrived home before 3:00 p.m. And the buses never interfered with my schedule either, since I usually pulled out of our driveway between 9:00 and 10:00 a.m. and returned after 4:00.
Midday noise wasn’t a problem either. Since Hubby left the house so early in the morning he napped for an hour or two each afternoon. And when Hubby slept, even a bomb could not awaken him. If I happened to be home during the day, I never considered the sound of children’s voices as noise. The youngsters’ laughter, and even their shouting to one another, as they played during recess was always a pleasant sound to me.
Several years ago the public school closed its doors and the building is now owned and occupied by the Hebrew Academy of Long Beach. But the name of the school is not the only thing that has changed: School buses no longer park where they once did, on the street in front of our house. They now park around the corner when discharging students in the morning and when picking them up in the afternoon. The parents who do not use bus service simply walk quietly down the block with their youngsters or drive their cars into the school’s parking lot, which is located behind the building. In short, vehicular traffic is no longer an issue for anyone who lives on or drives down the street where I live.
The sound of a jackhammer drilling into cement is noise. The sound of honking horns is noise. But the sounds that come from children playing and laughing during school recess are sounds that I never refer to as noise. There is nothing more pleasing to my ears than the sound of children’s laughter. And when school is not in session during the summer, the building serves as a day camp. Before the camp opened, swimming pools were installed. Fencing and shrubbery prevent me from seeing the pools but do not drown out the sounds of the children at play. These in-ground pools are directly behind my house, and the sounds of splashing water and the accompanying laughter is as pleasing to me as music. It brightens my day.
The school has been a perfect neighbor and the children are incredibly polite. Any time a ball or some other toy flies over the fence and lands in my yard, a student will always ring my doorbell to ask for permission to enter the yard to retrieve what he lost. On countless occasions I have told the child making the request that he does not have to ask because he has my permission to enter at any time. I always tell the youngster that he should pass the word on to his friends, but it has made no difference. Apparently the children are instructed by teachers (or counselors) to always ask for permission. The kids are adorable and I love saying “yes” to them.
There is another bonus to living in this house, and it’s a big one that happens every year for an entire month. I think of it right now since we’re in the month of Elul. This means that each morning for the next month or so, I will be treated to the sound of the shofar. Somewhere on the school campus, the shofar is blown every day during the month of Elul. This is done in order to awaken the heart to repentance as we approach the Yomim Nora’im. While the reason for blowing the shofar each day is a serious one, the sound is beautiful, and I look forward to it every year as summer comes to a close.
These sounds—whether of the shofar or from happy children—provide much pleasure, reminding me how fortunate we were to have bought a house next to a school after all. That’s just the way it is!
Hannah Berman lives in Woodmere and can be reached at Savtahannah@aol.com or 516-295-4435. Read more of Hannah Berman’s articles.
