This morning on the radio, I heard a woman tell the story of losing her voice. In place of her vocal chords, which had been removed because of disease, a device in her throat tried to overlay words upon the breath she expelled from her lungs. The resulting communication could not mimic the subtle intonations that a human voice produces. What remained was a digitally-produced monotone simulation of speech, her emotions drained from her words.
I expected this woman to be bitter over losing her own voice forever, never to sing, never to speak without drawing unwanted attention from those within earshot.
The sounds she emitted were less than sonorous. But the words she delivered were haunting.
“People remember me now,” she explained.
“Where have you been?” the salesperson had asked. “I’ve missed seeing you!” Our vocal-chord deprived friend had visited the shop only once previously—a full year ago.
“Since I lost my voice, I’ve never been happier,” the odd, buzzing voice explained. “I’ve learned to value what I have left. I still have my life. Yes, I may have lost my voice,” the digitized vocal chords continued, “but I’ve really gained my life. From that day forward, I have never had a bad day–ever!”
Despite having minimal ability to express emotions through her voice, her words had no difficulty traveling from her heart to mine.
I felt myself shrink just a bit. I wondered what conditions it takes to have a good day.
Losing a voice might do it. Paralysis might do it.
Or maybe changing an attitude would do it.
Imagine that.