Some sounds I will remember

As a young person strolls across that threshold toward old age, those enchanting sounds of life begin to become more distant.

Part of growing up in a noisy world often creates certain memories of particular sounds.

Mechanical ear contraptions are invented to better magnify those sounds later in life once they become a bit muffled.

I remember growing up in those Dargan woods and listening to the rooster crow every morning.

And that whirling and buzzing blade sound of my Grandfather Chalkie’s sawmill as tree logs were cut in measured sizes still remains.

The ear and its function of that little vibrating drum inside become more valued as we age.

I remember in Vietnam standing near Huey helicopters, Chinooks and other great flying machines, and their sounds as those large dangling and whirling rotors prepared to take one to flight.

The sounds of a newborn baby are most familiar too. They gurgle, they cry from hunger and colic. They giggle and make a bunch of interesting sounds almost indescribable but never forgotten once heard.

As that same tiny baby begins to crawl, explore and travel, a game of sounds and pictures is provided so they might begin to associate the two. That friendship of the ears with the eyes becomes all too important.

And what of the sound of music? I loved the movie, "The Sound of Music," and the many sounds of melodious notes.

Young skater:Boonsboro freshman Brooke Bailey selected to play in Junior Roller Derby World Cup in France

The beckon of a fog horn at Whitefish Point on Lake Superior in upper Michigan is remembered, a calling signal to all those seeking safe passage on the waters there.

The loud cries of the mighty locomotive coming around the bend from the Brunswick railroad tracks to let you know something big is coming your way brings back memories of my father-in-law, Leon, a railroad man.

Those cries and moans for help and confusion coming from the nursing home rooms as I walk by to visit a loved one are remembered. Those sounds of despair echo there as too few staff is present to offer comfort.

The barking of dogs is an interesting sound too. If only that beloved creature’s sentences could be translated into written form, what stories could be told.

The wailing cries that gather around the casket of a loved one at the end of the sermon is often engraved in the memory of beating ear drums as those who grieve make their way to the cemetery.

The ear is a mysterious organ, for sure, made expressly to carry feelings in the form of sounds straight from the ear to the heart. It is a most valuable tool for balance and walking too.

The ear’s value is often ignored, until one day those sounds of life begin to fade.

I often pause at night, in a dimly lit room, with a blackberry libation in hand, to listen to the soothing notes from a Native American flute on the prairie.

Have you every stooped to hear the purr of a cat and attempt to interpret that creature’s thoughts of these sounds?

And what would life be without spoken words? How would we ever have enough time to say all the things we do without sounds? The importance of sign language would then become more appreciated.

And perhaps Henry Beston offers a memory so dear to one’s own ears and heart: "The three great elemental sounds of nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach."

Who among you does not embrace and remember these mystical sounds?

The beating raindrops on a tin roof. The howling winds rustling through the woods. And the whispering words of those ocean’s waves from antiquity as they come to greet you and provide solace.

These, for sure, are some magical enchantments to life.

If only the Creator would have provided a translator for nature’s emotions.

Even the crows outside my kitchen window every morning must be discussing the menu as I toss it from my deck onto the feeding grounds below.

And the mobbing sounds of these birds as they often chase the squeaking hawk across the blue skies above is something to hear and behold.

And have you listen lately to that wise old owl?

But perhaps those words attributed to Native American Chief Seattle best expresses a few unique sounds so memorable to me:

“What is it to life if man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of frogs around the pool at night?"

I still remember them, and so many others.

Pete Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes for the Herald-Mail.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: Sounds in this world spark memories that last forever