Sitting here working on my second cup of coffee as the freight train moves east toward Brainerd, blowing it's horn as it crosses the intersection nearby. Harkens back to a simpler place and time of my youth when you could tell it was 9:30 p.m. as that's when the southbound freight train crossed a nearby road and blew it's horn. It was very punctual. You could set your watch by it and never be off more than a couple minutes. Pleasant memories. What were some sounds you always enjoyed hearing? Another was during fall harvest time when the crops were being worked. Tractors, combines, and hay wagon trains all putting in their time, getting the crops out of the field before the snow flew.
When I was a boy we didn’t have air conditioning so in the summer months I went to sleep at night listening to the night sounds. Whipporwills were my favorite. I had forgotten all about them until I camped during spring turkey season in the Ozarks And heard them every night.
My grandmother, aunt and some help in the packhouse grading and tying tobacco. I'm sure I was underfoot and a pest. Cool damp mornings helped get the leaf in "order" so it wouldn't crumble while grading, tying and pressed. Loved break time, SunDrop and honey buns. My grandparents would feint away if they saw how the leaf is handled now.
Typewriters, rotary dial phones, steam locomotives, and those one-lung John Deere tractors - all very distinctive memory sounds that simply are extinct.
Trains run regular through Wabigoon, Ontario, I enjoy the horns.
7:00 AM and 6;00 PM as well.
When working out a Einar Lindstrom's, you could hear the noon sirens from Albert City, Laurens, and Marathon. Naturally, they were all a few minutes apart, and each one of them was, by God, the right one.
The bonging of the grandmother clock in my grandparents house and to a lesser extent, the whir and chirps of the cuckoo clock they had as well.
I now have the cuckoo clock and my brother has the grandmother clock.
This is rather an odd one to remember, but I can hear it as clearly as if it just happened. On chilly mornings, I would lie in bed and hear Dad go down in the basement to ignite the fuel oil furnace. There would be the squeak of the door in the furnace as he opened it, a whoosh as he ignited it, then this "Kar-CHUNG" sound from him as he cleared his throat and sinuses.
The old sawmill north of the house.
The old sawmill north of the house.
I believe that I can relate to that one as it often takes place next to me in bed.
Hearing my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles speaking Italian, English being there second learned language. As kids we were told that there was no need to speak Italian, we were Americans. A big regret of mine.
Hearing my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles speaking Italian, English being there second learned language. As kids we were told that there was no need to speak Italian, we were Americans. A big regret of mine.
Damn it Ed now i'm all choked up.
The noon siren on the roof of the fire station. Glass Pack mufflers on cars. Sleeping in the summer with the window open and the screen kept the mosquitos out and let the cricket noise in. Then waking in the morning to hear the soft clucking of pheasants that would come in from the field out back to patrol the yard at dawn for insects or whatever.
The old sawmill north of the house.
I believe that I can relate to that one as it often takes place next to me in bed.
Haha! Similar.
No, ole Merton would fire up the mill about 4 or 5.
That way, he and Wendel could get some cutting done before it got hot and the steel plate in Wendel's would cook him.
The school bell ringing school's out!
Ships blowing their fog horns coming up the Delta from San Francisco Bay in the dead of Winter.
The old air raid sirens that got tested twice a year for disasters.
Clyde Ferrell used to operate a sawmill 1/2 mile further up the hollow from where I deer hunted and still do.
He had a heart attack about 1995 and that was that.
7:05 am, he would rev that mofo to about 8000 rpms three times then settle back at about 3/4 throttle.
After that, you were hunting strictly VFR, you dang sure wouldnt be hearing no subtle twig snaps of approaching whitetails after 7:05.
Hearing my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles speaking Italian, English being there second learned language. As kids we were told that there was no need to speak Italian, we were Americans. A big regret of mine.
.......... My maternal grandparents were both first generation German - American and bi-lingual. Spent a lot of time there when I was very young. They would speak German in front of me when I wasn't supposed to know what they were talking about. That stopped when I started learning German by listening to them. I wish they would have continued so that today I could be bi-lingual too. It's not so easy to learn a new language as an adult.
Milking machine vacuum pump and compressor.
Clyde Ferrell used to operate a sawmill 1/2 mile further up the hollow from where I deer hunted and still do.
He had a heart attack about 1995 and that was that.
7:05 am, he would rev that mofo to about 8000 rpms three times then settle back at about 3/4 throttle.
After that, you were hunting strictly VFR, you dang sure wouldnt be hearing no subtle twig snaps of approaching whitetails after 7:05.
Badass.
The sound of my Dad’s JD 50 working the garden or pulling the wood trailer. He still has it but it doesn’t see much use anymore.
The sounds of his knees cracking going down the hallway past my room about 6 every morning as he got around for work. Now my knees do that!
I miss the sound of the noon lunch time steam whistle my grandad worked at in his old age in the little East Texas sawmill town.
Good days in summer on his farm and the surrounding woods.
Hearing a girlfriend exclaiming, "Oh, God."
That's what I was thinking, have a listen to this one:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehiTOH80A7Q
Summer nights sleeping with the windows open and a million crickets chirping outside. I still love that sound.
Hearing a girlfriend exclaiming, "Oh, God."
Ay, Papi !!!
😂
The clang of the hog feeder lids at the end of a day of hunting when the sun and the wind were both going down.
The sound of rattling china tea cups & saucers, as my maternal Grand Father took the mornings first tea, down the hallway, to my Grand Mother !
Old Bills horse farts as he pulled Grandads plow along with rsttling trace chains and Gee, Haw and Whoa.
The bell at the local service station
F-89s flying over my home on takeoff, afterburners lit. THUNDER!
B-52 MITO launch at 4:30 AM. ROLLING THUNDER! -hint-
Playing cards clothespined to the frame of a bike rattlin’ in the spokes.
A Model T swamp buggy in the morning.
The ‘plop’ of a Hula Popper on still water.
My .410 ejecting a spent shell.
Train horn in the background at night. The sounds of old Ford 8n. An old "kerchunk kerchunk kerchunk" square baler running on the farm across the street.
Hearing my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles speaking Italian, English being there second learned language. As kids we were told that there was no need to speak Italian, we were Americans. A big regret of mine.
Same for me here and also with the learning Italian bit, us kids didn't and regret it now.
We lived in southern AZ and they also spoke spanish fluently.
The steam engine whistles from trains that used to pass by Dad's greenhouses. The tracks were only about 75 feet away - and those whistles were freakin' LOUD...
Sitting here working on my second cup of coffee as the freight train moves east toward Brainerd, blowing it's horn as it crosses the intersection nearby. Harkens back to a simpler place and time of my youth when you could tell it was 9:30 p.m. as that's when the southbound freight train crossed a nearby road and blew it's horn. It was very punctual. You could set your watch by it and never be off more than a couple minutes. Pleasant memories. What were some sounds you always enjoyed hearing? Another was during fall harvest time when the crops were being worked. Tractors, combines, and hay wagon trains all putting in their time, getting the crops out of the field before the snow flew.
Same sound memory for me, whenever we visited my grandparents in Virginia, i.e,. that train horn in the distance, all hours of the day and night. It was actually a comforting sound.
The clang of the hog feeder lids at the end of a day of hunting when the sun and the wind were both going down.
The sound of hog feeder lids always brings me back to lying in bed at my aunt and uncle's. I would lie in the darkness before falling asleep trying to call exactly when the next lid would bang.
A weekly event was the moans and shrieks of the neighbor’s korean wife.
She’d make that sound every Saturday morning as she laid across the hood of a 66 mustang, holding onto the windshield wipers as her husband backed out of the driveway. Minor marital situation. Was good entertainment.
He’d stop and peel her off at the stop sign
Hearing drip gas motors on pumpjacks in oil fields of Osage county during the summers sleeping on my great aunt's screened in porch. Hearing my grandfather swing open with a clang the top of a cast iron King Heater wood stove, the metallic bang when he poke the coals from the previous fire and dropped log rounds into to the old stove, followed by the grating sound when he slid the lid closed every morning . The muted morning conversations of men in deer camp and the sound of Zippo lighters firing up the first cigarette of the day.
We still have a noon whistle!!
Hearing a girlfriend exclaiming, "Oh, God."
Ay, Papi !!!
😂
He left out the part about hearing it from the next room......
The sound of fresh milk coming straight from the cow, and hitting the bottom of a tin bucket .
"General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill. General Quarters"
1964 Tonkin Gulf Yacht Club plank owner.
Sitting here working on my second cup of coffee as the freight train moves east toward Brainerd, blowing it's horn as it crosses the intersection nearby. Harkens back to a simpler place and time of my youth when you could tell it was 9:30 p.m. as that's when the southbound freight train crossed a nearby road and blew it's horn. It was very punctual. You could set your watch by it and never be off more than a couple minutes. Pleasant memories. What were some sounds you always enjoyed hearing? Another was during fall harvest time when the crops were being worked. Tractors, combines, and hay wagon trains all putting in their time, getting the crops out of the field before the snow flew.
I had 3 blackhawks buzz my place while enjoying a cup.
I’m guessing they are heading into the fire zone.
The sound of Bullfrogs in the summertime with the bedroom window open. They would sing me to sleep every night
The sound of my grandpa hollering “come boss” to the cows when it was time to come into the barn.
Just sitting in the truck a few minutes ago, listening to the rain beat on the roof. Nice heavy rain. Reminded me of sleeping under a tin roof house or barn. House I grew up in had a tin roof. Man I miss that sound and you never get better sleep!
The sound of fresh milk coming straight from the cow, and hitting the bottom of a tin bucket .
There you go. Hear the strong squirts from Grandads hand splashing the half full 2 gallon milk pail.
Steam whistles and the sound of steam engines pulling a load, single stage afterburners lighting, the hum of the plants at night in my home town.
The sound of the conveyor belt and Continuous Miner shutting down at quit time ...Back in the day when I was a Coal Miner...
The sound of my Stevens single shot 20 gauge right after a rooster pheasant flew out of a weed row while I was walking the edge of an un-picked corn field. Pheasant scared the living hell out of me and the 20 broke the early morning silence like a clap of thunder. I can still see the feathers floating to the ground and hear the tall wheat stubble in the next field rustling as the bird thrashed his wings for a few moments.. I walked home with the long tail feathers sticking out of my vest pouch.
The sound of Bullfrogs in the summertime with the bedroom window open. They would sing me to sleep every night
Yes, the frogs here in the spring are amazing, particularly as the sun goes down.
Boxer engines, pre head gasket leaks !
We still have a noon whistle!!
Yeah, I remember that, too, when I was a kid. The noon air raid siren. Used to scare me a little, sometimes, especially after seeing or hearing something about how Russia might launch nukes at us.