During a recent visit to my parents’ house, I noticed that my dad had taken up residence in my sister’s old room. Given that we’re a family that values privacy and boundaries, I couldn’t help but exclaim, “OH MY GOSH, MOM—DAD IS FINALLY LEAVING YOU…AFTER 51 YEARS! WHO IS SHE?!”
“Your father has been banished from our bedroom,” my mother responded dryly. “He’s taken a liking to the ‘Thunderstorm’ setting.”
No further explanation was necessary; I instantly got it. “Thunderstorm” isn’t a new dancer at the local club—it’s a sound setting. My entire family is hooked on sleep sound machines. Back in the ’70s, we relied on clunky AC units to lull us to sleep, but now it’s all about Hammacher Schlemmer, Brookstone, and HoMedics. Each of us has one, and the brands differ, but we all swear by “white noise.” That’s our go-to, no questions asked. Even our little ones were trained to sleep with the consistent hum of an air purifier.
At his age, my dad is unlikely to be having a mid-life crisis, so his sudden preference for “Thunderstorm” felt like a betrayal to our sound traditions.
“Thunderstorm!” my mom reiterated. “Can you even imagine? Boom! Boom! Boom!”
Apologies to Eddie Rabbit, but my mother clearly does NOT enjoy a rainy night. While I had faith their marriage would endure, I did start to wonder: were we being too harsh? Were we too attached to our settings? Was white noise always the best option? Could it be that our sleep sound preferences were, dare I say, biased? Was plain white noise really the ultimate key to a restful night?
Out of curiosity and a desire for fairness, I decided to experiment with various non-white noise settings on my sleep machine for a few nights. Here’s what I discovered:
THUNDERSTORM
Naturally, I had to try this first. Yes, there was a lot of booming—too much booming. If I’d added a strobe light, my room might as well have been the scene from a disaster movie. Sorry, Dad. Hard pass.
TRAIN
This setting exists, and I worried it would just be a continuous loop of that “Drops of Jupiter” song, but thankfully, it was actual train sounds. Who finds this soothing? All night, I envisioned riding the rails with vagabonds trying to pilfer my belongings. I couldn’t sleep without clutching my imaginary harmonica.
OCEAN WAVES
At first, this one was serene, but then I suddenly craved shrimp, leading me to Google my nearest Red Lobster. And did I just hear a seagull? Those things will attack you for a Cheddar Bay biscuit, and can you blame them? (Delicious biscuits, not seagulls.)
STREAM
Do people who enjoy this setting sleep with rubber sheets? I was up four times during the night to use the bathroom.
CITY
This is just as perplexing as the “Train” setting. After a day of battling Houston traffic, who wouldn’t want to experience the sounds of cars zooming past in their bedroom?
SUMMER NIGHTS
Two images popped into my mind: massive swarms of locusts descending on my bed or John Travolta in a leather jacket. Either scenario was equally terrifying.
HEARTBEAT
Thanks to Edgar Allan Poe, there’s no way this sound would ever be restful for me.
JUNGLE RHYTHM
Peaceful enough, except for the occasional howler monkey and the looming dread of a panther attack.
RAINFOREST
Similar to “Jungle” but with added humidity and a fear of giant spiders. Also, I couldn’t stop thinking about Rainforest Cafe charging me $9 for five nuggets.
FIREPLACE
You can practically feel the shag rug and hear the sultry whispers of Barry White. But hey, when was the last time you checked your smoke alarm batteries? Goodnight!
ZEN GARDEN
This one made me anticipate a masseuse entering my room any moment. I also felt a bit tense, fearing I might accidentally let one rip during a massage.
After all my trials, I concluded that I’m definitely a white noise person, and I’m fine with that. I’ll do my best not to judge my dad or anyone else’s unusual sleep preferences. As for my parents, I hope they can navigate the “Thunderstorm” and find some common ground in their sleep settings.
Thank you, and good night.