Lost Sounds
I recently made a significant change in my life. I purchased hearing aids. And after several weeks of wearing them, I must confess I like them. Everything I now hear is sharper, and I am no longer saying 'what' all the time. My audiologist says that my brain is now hearing sounds that have been lost for some time.
This makes me think about all the other sounds from life long ago that hearing aids can not bring back. As time changes, so do the sounds that we hear. This is particularly true of the sounds from my childhood. Many simple sounds from my 'young years' are almost as extinct as dinosaurs.
Being a frequent consumer of Coca-Cola since I was a young boy brings back several sounds I no longer hear. Gone is the sound of a single coin dropping into a pop machine and hearing the sound of a glass bottle being dispensed. And I no longer hear the sound of that bottle cap coming off the bottle as I use a bottle opener to remove it.
Whenever I am driving one of my classic cars, I cannot help but recall some long-lost sounds. I remember driving up to a gas station and going over a rubber cord that would ring a bell to let an attendant know there was a customer. Then, as the attendant put gas in my car, I would hear the distinct 'ding' sound each time a gallon of gas was added to the tank. Now, whenever I need gas, I pump the gas myself, and the only sound I hear is a video commercial coming from the pump. Returning to my hometown of Dorchester also reminds me of sounds that are lost forever. Growing up in Dorchester, I did not need a watch. Our village siren kept us kids abreast of the time. Every day at noon, the siren would blast, and we knew it was time to go home for lunch. The siren would blow again when six o'clock came, letting us know we needed to be home. And when we were playing around town after supper, the siren again blew at nine o'clock, letting us know it was time to call it a day. But now, the lowly siren only blows at noon.
Also gone from my childhood home is the sound of trains passing through town. When I was a young boy, one of my favorite things was watching trains go through Dorchester and hearing the whistles as they crossed the roads in town. But those train tracks are no longer used, and gone are the sounds of their whistles.
BE OUR
G UEST
BY
KEN ANDERSON “THE MAYBERRY GURU”
