I grew up in Southern Pines. After 8 p.m. you could hear the night birds calling. Later the long-off call of the freight train would steadily rise until it once again quieted into the distance. My favorite sound was the rustling of the leaves outside my open window whispering me to sleep after a long day of baseball, chasing squirrels, and wrestling in the yard with my brothers.

I now live in West End, where it is much the same at night. It is not the same in Southern Pines, though. I was in town late a few times recently and could not believe the noise level emanating from otherwise nice neighborhoods — music blasting from stereos, people hollering, and gangs of folks just milling around making noise for no apparent reason at all, except to be aggravating.

Calling the police, as my friend did, only decreases the mayhem for as long as it takes the officers to round the corner. Once the patrol car is out of sight, the mariachi band cranks out another lament and the rappers start back hollering about the injustices of a life where one can make millions perpetuating bad grammar and poor attire.

It is really a shame that a law would have to be made to force people to respect the rights of a working person trying to get some sleep.

It may be a First Amendment violation to restrict loud music and vulgar language at 1 a.m., so maybe the law should just fine the landlords of these places for every sleepless night suffered by the neighbors. Hopefully the residents of Southern Pines will hear the whippoorwills calling one night soon.

Kurt Sellers

West End