Sounds of My Childhood

 Fire, and hail; snow, and vapors; stormy wind fulfilling his word: Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars: Beast, and all cattle, creeping things, and flying fowl: Kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth; both young men and maidens, old men, and children: Let them praise the name of the Lord: for His name alone is excellent; his glory above the earth and heaven…Psalms 148:8-13

As time changes, so do sounds. For instance; when I was a kid growing up on Parksville Knob, I remember lying in bed on a summer night and listening to a whippoorwill’s call. After several times of who- who- who, I would hear his mate answer from the other side of the hill. Sometimes under my breath to keep from waking my parents, I would say with a giggle, “it’s me old bird, that's who."
 

I still remember how lonesome the twelve o’clock train’s whistle sounded as it rumbled through my small hometown a mile away. It seemed as if it would go on forever. Even after it passed through Parksville, I could hear it for miles as it traveled on down the tracks.

Even the katydids and crickets were louder. They would start an all night symphony the minute I crawled into bed. Sometimes one would wander away from the rest of the choir and amble in my bedroom, making a noise so loud it busied my eardrums… I wondered if it was his idea to get away from all the other choir members so he could listen to his own voice to check if he was off tune, or what ---I just know it kept me sleepless for half the night.

Off in the distance came the sound of hunting dogs. You had to know they were hard at it, chasing a poor defenseless coon across the fields, into the woods, and up a tree. Most of the farmers in the area would take their hunting dogs out at night to give them exercise. It was also a chance for the farmer to wind down from a long day of working on the farm. 

Over on the next hill were sounds coming from a herd of cows… Be it noon, or midnight there was always the tinkle of cowbells. One of the most relaxing sounds ---ever!

The brooks and streams were louder as the lazy water found the easiest pathway across the rocks, stirring up noisy gravel as it went. Today, we seldom hear the music of a babbling stream. They are filled with litter and marred by the removal of the creek’s bedrock.

The bird’s voice has become hushed. It seems to me when I was a child the birds were so loud you could hardly think. Could it be the sound of traffic has taken over? It makes me wonder! Has everything that praises the Lord, slowed down on its praise? Has all of nature become so lax we do not give worship the way we should to the One who created us? I hope not.

How I wish for those old days of coal powered trains with a loud whistle, coon dogs yelping across some farmers field ---and cowbells. How sad to think those sounds are lost and will never return. If we could just go back to some of those laid-back days and sounds of our childhood we would all have more peace of mind. Or that is the way I see it.

Have a great day in the Lord,

Mary Frances King