Sounds of childhood
What sounds do you most associate with your childhood? This was a question asked in a book I'm currently reading, The human voice: how this extraordinary instrument reveals essential clues about who we are, by Anne Karpf. I had to sit for a minute and really scour my memories, but I came up with three.
Sound #1: the click click of the car blinker. My father would turn it on, signalling we were making a right hand turn onto our street. Late at night, we'd be returning from a church event after ingesting casseroles heavy with butter and cream of mushroom soup. If we weren't fighting over who got to "ride shotgun", we were dozing in the backseat of the car. Unfettered by seatbelts, we kids would barely register the drive home. When we heard that blinker go on, we knew it wouldn't be long before we'd be snuggled in our beds, safe and sound.
Sound #2: the drone of the air conditioner. After a hot and humid day at elementary school, I'd walk home and stretch out on our black Naugahyde couch. I loved to press my cheek into the cold plastic, watch a rerun of Gilligan's Island, and just veg. The air conditioner nearby made a comforting "ummmmmmmm" as I relaxed, one hand tracing lines into the carpet.
Sound #3: the musical tones of Yellow Submarine, played on the organ. Saturday mornings, around 11:30, my mother would flip the power switch of her electric organ, pull out her stack of sheet music, and climb onto the bench. She'd punch in a rock and roll setting (complete with drums), slip out of her shoes, and start working the foot pedals. Soon the strains of her favorite Beatles song would waft through the house. My sister and I shared a bedroom, one wall of which butted up against the back of the organ. And every Saturday morning, without fail, we would wake up to the tune of Yellow Submarine. It was impossible to ignore. Mom cranked up the volume as high as it would go. It was her special way of waking us up when she thought we'd been in bed too long.
What sounds connect you to powerful childhood memories?
3 comments:
Hmmm... Mine would have to be the roar and whine of the fighter planes as they zoomed overhead or sat on the tarmac when we would visit my dad in the control tower. Another would be the huge organ shaking explosion in my neighborhood when the green grocerer went up in smoke in Iran. All us American's thought a bomb had gone off. Or the whop-whop sound of helicopters landing at the end of our street. I remember we all ran down the street to see who's helicopters they were. Luckily it was the Iranian air force. They needed to make a pit stop. You know-- guys peeing in the desert.
pastgrace
mine would be the hypnotic lullaby of a hundred or so voices singing "Alleluia...", swaying back and forth with hands in the air.
Another is my first (or at least oldest) feeling of self-awareness - lying awake in my bed staring at the ceiling and hearing a jet fly over.
I also used to sneak into my folks' room in the middle of the night and steal my dad's watch so I could let it tick me to sleep.
One of the strongest sound memories I have is being in my bed--bottom bunk--listening to my dad in the kitchen with the radio on. The farm report was always on--Cotton John from KGNC in Amarillo--and Dad was cooking breakfast.
Going back to some of my childhood places, what amazes me is how quiet they were--away from traffic noises and barking dogs next door. So sometimes the absence of sound takes me back, too.
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