Transcript
A (0:00)
Olivia loves a challenge. It's why she lifts heavy weights and likes complicated recipes. But for booking her trip to Paris, Olivia chose the easy way. With Expedia, she bundled her flight with a hotel to save more. Of course, she still climbed all 674 steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower. You were made to take the easy route. We were made to easily package your trip. Expedia made to travel flight Inclusive packages are ator protected.
B (0:33)
Choose to show up with the bold styling of the Mazda CX30 awake up. I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the slowdown. I just read a memoir I loved. It's called A Silent Treatment by Jeannie Vanasco. She writes about how her mother moves into the renovated basement apartment of her home and then starts using the silent treatment not long after moving in. The silences begin at any perceived slight. Her shortest period of silence lasts two weeks. Her longest lasts six months. Giving someone the silent treatment, or stonewalling, involves not speaking to someone or, in some cases, refusing to acknowledge their existence. The silent treatment can be a form of gaslighting, where the stonewaller makes the other person doubt their feelings and perceptions, or even question if their needs for communication and connection are unreasonable. In a family, the silent treatment can be a form of emotional abuse. For instance, a parent might ignore a child after a disagreement, using silence as a means of punishment to control the child or to get them to comply. This can happen with spouses as well. Silence can be manipulative and punitive. It's passive, not aggressive, and it often occurs in private, in families, or in intimate relationships, so it can be hard to identify. Although it's not physically violent, the silent treatment can be brutal, especially if it's prolonged. If someone in your life has stonewalled you, you know what I mean. Human beings crave connection, so it's especially painful when that connection is withheld. Today's poem touched me and how it explores the intimacy of sound and especially the human voice. How to the silence between us can be so loud. Given to rust by Vivi Francis Every time I open my mouth, my teeth reveal more than I mean to. I can't stop tonguing them, my teeth almost giddy to know they're still there. My mother lost hers, but I am embarrassed nonetheless that even they aren't pretty. Still, I did once like my voice, the way it moved through the gap in my teeth, like birdsong in the morning, like the slow swirl of a creek at dusk. Just yesterday, a woman closed her eyes as I read aloud and said she wanted to sleep in. The sound of it My voice. I can still sing. Some early cancer didn't stop the compulsion to sing, but there's gravel now, an undercurrent that also reveals me. Time and disaster, a heavy landslide down the mountain when you stopped speaking to me. What you really wanted was for me to stop speaking to you, to stifle the sound of my voice. I I know didn't want the quicksilver of it in your ear. What does it mean to silence another? It means I ruminate on the hit of rain against the tin roof of childhood, How I could listen all day until the water rusted its way in. And there I was putting a pan over here and a pot over there to catch it. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on instagram slowdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org. Foreign. Hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown is the only poetry podcast in public media. That means your support is vital to keep us going. No matter how much you give, your contribution makes a real difference. Head to SlowdownShow.org donate today to Power More Poems into the Future.
