Embrace the summer sounds, for winter arrives too soon

Raucous laughter woke me up Saturday night, which was, technically 1:30 a.m. Sunday. Female voices, joyful voices, but, dang, it was early. Early, too, were the garbage trucks rolling down my street like military tanks at 5:30 a.m. on Monday, followed by a too-cheery 6 a.m. jogging duo, whose voices carried into my bedroom, followed by the guy upstairs whose shower emits a high-pitched screeeeech. I really should talk to somebody about that. But I won't.

I live in Minneapolis, in a multi-unit complex. I live across the street from a white-hot new restaurant, which serves late-night fare until 1 a.m. I seldom find parking on my own street and have gotten parking tickets on occasion when I do (overstayed that two-hour window or was closer than 5 feet from adriveway).

Infuriating? Yep. And all I can say is, thank goodness for it.

I've been watching the noise-ordinance debate with a dose of empathy, particularly for parents of young children. I remember that you've-got-to-be-kidding-me feeling of finally (finally!) getting the little ones down to sleep and then bam! -- awakened again by outdoor boisterousness. But, mostly, I'm suffering from a different you've-got-to-be-kidding-me feeling.

One week from today -- one week -- is June 21. Some people call that the longest day of the year, or the first day of summer. I call it the day we start counting down to ... well, you know. What you might not know is that one of my greatest pleasures living among you for more than 20 years is watching the way native Minnesotans seize summer like nobody's business. I love the way you throw on shorts and flip-flops when the temperature climbs to 50 in April. I love the way you cause nightmarish traffic jams at garden stores in May. I love your milk-carton boat races, over-the-top fireworks on July 4th and free outdoor concerts.

And I love the way a growing number of city restaurants, bars and cafes are embracing another affirming celebration of summer: dining outdoors, upstairs on rooftops or outside on sidewalks, until the last speck of sunlight forces us inside. On June 16, the Minneapolis City Council will consider an ordinance aiming to reduce noise by tightening regulations on those bars and restaurants.

But "noise" is a subjective thing, not easy to define.

I find it rude that neighbors sometimes slam car doors after arriving home at wee hours, until that door is slammed by one of my own kids home safe.

Just under 10 years ago, I remember sitting in our back yard trying to enjoy dinner, something that should have been easy because there wasn't an airplane in the sky. In those early, awful post 9/11 days, there's no noise I would rather have heard than those jet engines drowning out our conversation. And then, of course, the planes returned, as did our complaining.

Our memories are short. So is a certain season. So I say to our City Council members: If we need to better monitor the Minneapolis noise ordinance, let's do it. If we need to hire more off-duty police officers to deal with the problem behavior of a few, let's do that, too.

But please don't take away our chance to briefly live out loud, with pulsating music and clanking wine glasses and barking dogs and boisterous laughter. Before you know it, we'll be back behind storm doors.

And I, for one, will miss hearing from you.