Describing sounds

Pocketa-pocketa-pocketa

“A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. “The new anesthetizer is giving way!” shouted an intern. “There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!” “Quiet, man!” said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep.”

I love this bit by James Thurber, in his short story “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” I was thinking about it today when describing some sounds of my childhood. When working on stories, sound can be as powerful as smell in evoking memories.

When we moved from Providence, RI to Springfield, VT, our soundscape changed. The rectory in Vermont was up the hill from the junior high school, the playing fields, the town pool and the community band shell.

Here are some of the sounds we heard:

During little league games: “Hey, batta, batta, batta, hey, batta!”

During the day in the summer: “WCFR, your hometown radio station, bringing you Billy, don’t be a hero.” Shrieks, splashes and whistles.

Wednesday evenings in the summer: band music, then the honking of car horns, which was an acceptable form of applause.

During the night in the summer, the pool was closed but the chain link fence was often breached: Clink, clank, splash, hee-hee!

During the night in the winter, after a good snow, when the teenagers were out doing donuts in their cars in the school parking lot: Zhhh-zhhh-zhhhh-zheeeeee!

Another winter sound, when the soon-to-retire Unitarian minister from just down the hill brought his toboggan up and sledded down to the meeting house: Crunch, crunch, crunch….whomp, shhhhhhhhhhhh.

Of course, weather and space changes the acoustics. Consider the muffled sound of a snowy day, or the way voices by the water are more easily audible.

What are some of your sound memories?

The rectory of St Mark’s Episcopal Church.

St Mark’s Episcopal Church, the last church where my father was the minister.