All too often, we don’t appreciate something till it’s gone. In my case, following my vocal cord surgery, I’m gradually regaining my voice, but it’s a journey. I wrote about my vocal cord saga in my post of Nov. 11, 2025, “You Don’t Have Cancer.” I’m on the mend and abundantly grateful, but speaking is still a struggle. Thanks to the expert care of my medical team at UT Southwestern, I’m winning this challenge. My speech therapist assures me I’ll regain my voice over time, with the help of some odd humming exercises while blowing bubbles through a straw into a cup of water. Till it’s back in full, I am far more silent than customary. But surprisingly, that silence has also been a gift.
First and foremost, I no longer take the ability to speak for granted. The science of making sound is complicated. There’s a lot involved in having healthy vocal cords that vibrate properly. As my voice strengthens, I greet those sounds with newfound gratitude.
While I’m in my quiet phase, I’ve discovered wonderful ways to fill the silence. I’ve turned it into an opportunity. I now am finding my voice in other ways. It’s fascinating what I’ve discovered by doing more of these non-speaking activities:
- Reading
- Writing
- Music
- Listening
- Thinking (lots of thinking).
I once heard an outspoken Trinity Valley School principal described as a man with “never an unspoken thought.” We all adored him, but the truth is that whatever went into his mind instantly came out of his mouth. Now that each word is an effort, I’ve thought a lot about that beloved principal. I’ve become very selective in my spoken words. Less can be more. I’ve had an abundance of unspoken thoughts. I now weigh my comments and only make the ones that I feel are worth it. Silence can be peaceful, so I disturb that peace less these days.
I’m also mastering the art of non-verbal communication. For example, I still make my morning rounds to greet everyone in my office, but the greeting is now expressed more through my smile than my words. My team all seems to get the message, still knowing that I care and appreciate them even if I don’t say so out loud.
My silence also provided me an unexpected gift recently. I was attending Sabbath services with my daughter Lizzy’s family. They worship at The Altneu Synagogue in Manhattan. It’s a very vibrant congregation, mostly of young superstars who are fervent in their Jewish faith. When prayers are sung in unison, they all participate with gusto. I discovered that when I sing along with them, I’m hearing more of myself and I’m failing to fully hear the congregation. But mouthing the words to myself, my ears suddenly heard the symphony of their voices. I heard two prayers like I’d never heard them before: the Prayer for the State of Israel and the “Etz Chaim” (Tree of Life) prayer when returning the Torah to the Ark. The words went straight to my heart (and to the tears in my eyes). In selecting a Bach concerto as the theme music for his “Firing Line” show years ago, William F. Buckley, Jr. considered music a “pipeline to G-d… that should ultimately point to higher things.” I agree.
So like Simon and Garfunkel sang, there can be sounds in silence. I now get what Paul Simon meant in those haunting lyrics to “The Sound of Silence.” Too many are “talking without speaking” and “hearing without listening.” But “the vision that was planted in my brain still remains, within the sound of silence.” And those sounds that actually make it into your brain speak more loudly than the ones that go in one ear and out the other. I have a new appreciation for the adage “Silence is golden.” When we quiet the noise, we can really begin to hear. So, in an unexpected way, I say thanks for the blessing of this quiet time. Indeed, silence can be golden.
[I want to acknowledge Karen Reisman of Speak for Yourself who gave me the inspiration for this post in a quiet conversation as the two of strolled along the square in Bentonville, Arkansas, sharing a deep unspoken connection from our friendship of 50 years.]
Marvin E. Blum
Marvin Blum’s vocal cord episode brings more silence into his life, offering a new understanding of one of his favorite songs, “The Sound of Silence.”
