Sounding Off

Looking back at some of my earlier posts, I tried to find an idea to write about. It’s not strange that I have to search for a different view on an idea that I’ve not already written about. I‘ve been posting since 2013. One thought that bubbled up was a memory as a child. In warm weather my brother Ken and I would have the window open in our upstairs bedroom. We didn’t have air conditioning so we prayed for a cooling breeze. We often slept lightly, wakened by a sound. If it rained, we’d wake to close the window before it “rained in.”

Last evening there were storms around me. Warnings were issued on the television. Many times flashes of lightning filled my windows with dancing light and the rain pounded my roof. It took me back to the times as I a child. One sound that I missed was the passing of distant train. Train tracks were nearly two miles away. Rarely I‘d hear its rumble, but the locomotive’s whistle would softly filter its way into our room. I do miss hearing that lonesome sound.

I like to hear the sound of geese overhead in the spring, but their voices seem to sound sad in the fall. The sound of vehicle traffic is one sound I don’t miss hearing. Why? Because growing up, there were fewer cars on the road and although our home was along Route 711, traffic was much lighter. Where I live now is on a side road, but too often drivers race down the road speeding with motors roaring and vehicles are more prevalent. Near my property line is a dip in the road. Large trucks or trucks towing trailers will bounce and rattle when they cross that bump, especially when the trailers are empty. That sound reverberates even inside with windows closed.

Another sound I really hated to hear was the grating of the cicadas. They’d always begin to sing just before school started. It meant summer vacation was almost over. Going to school was close at hand. Even though I no longer go to school, I don’t like the cicadas’ song.

Sounds I really miss are the tolling of the church bell in the old Clinton Church of God. One of the men would grasp the hemp rope and pull. The bell in the steeple above would ring out loud and clear. I also miss the sound of voices from people who have passed away. Parents, wife, friends, classmates, and even workmates still hold a fading spot in my memories even though they too are passing away.