2jakes
I'll Lock Up
- Messages
- 9,680
- Location
- Alamo Heights ☀️ Texas
The earliest sounds that I recall fondly even though was many many years ago
was my grandma’s tender voice and lullaby.
Her rocking chair and the swing on the front porch. Candlestick phone and the
clatter it made when dialing.
The sound of the needle on the record as it got to the end of the music on her
huge wood record player. I was only two so I can’t be specific as to the name
or brand.
The deep sound of automobile horns. The clicking of the bus tires on the pavement.
The stomping of the feet on the floor by folks in the movie theater when the film broke.
The prayer in school by kids. The clanging of the lockers in school.
The echo of the basketball in an empty gym.
The baseball being hit with a wooden bat.
The sound of the jump rope on the pavement by my sisters.
Sisters arguing or listening to 45 rpm on tiny record players.
Coins in my pockets. My small transistor radio.
The laughter/applause/cheering by folks in a movie house.
The feedback of a microphone in the auditorium.
The engines of the B-52 bombers and explosions.
The ricochet of bullets whizzing as they past by.
The screams of soldiers dying.
Women.
Church bells.
The rain hitting on a tin roof.
Tiny bell on wood doors at the local shops.
Old cash registers with hand crank.
Punching in at work on a time machine clock.
Grandfather clock in the evenings.
Fireplaces and the crackle of the wood.
The teapot.
The clicking of scissors or buzzing sound of the trimmer
that the barber uses. Also the leather strap to sharpen the razor.
And my mama’s voice that I try to recall so I won’t forget as I
get older.
was my grandma’s tender voice and lullaby.
Her rocking chair and the swing on the front porch. Candlestick phone and the
clatter it made when dialing.
The sound of the needle on the record as it got to the end of the music on her
huge wood record player. I was only two so I can’t be specific as to the name
or brand.
The deep sound of automobile horns. The clicking of the bus tires on the pavement.
The stomping of the feet on the floor by folks in the movie theater when the film broke.
The prayer in school by kids. The clanging of the lockers in school.
The echo of the basketball in an empty gym.
The baseball being hit with a wooden bat.
The sound of the jump rope on the pavement by my sisters.
Sisters arguing or listening to 45 rpm on tiny record players.
Coins in my pockets. My small transistor radio.
The laughter/applause/cheering by folks in a movie house.
The feedback of a microphone in the auditorium.
The engines of the B-52 bombers and explosions.
The ricochet of bullets whizzing as they past by.
The screams of soldiers dying.
Women.
Church bells.
The rain hitting on a tin roof.
Tiny bell on wood doors at the local shops.
Old cash registers with hand crank.
Punching in at work on a time machine clock.
Grandfather clock in the evenings.
Fireplaces and the crackle of the wood.
The teapot.
The clicking of scissors or buzzing sound of the trimmer
that the barber uses. Also the leather strap to sharpen the razor.
And my mama’s voice that I try to recall so I won’t forget as I
get older.
Last edited: