Sounds in the Night [CCR]

In my career I have moved around the country quite a bit. In each place I move I find different sounds in the night. Some are very helpful and send you into a deep sleep. Other locations, such as when I lived near the Atlanta airport, can be irritating at best. Nothing can be more disturbing than the approach of a jumbo jet combined with the modern sub woofer pulsing the air harder than a wave pool. Here in Galion, Ohio I live near one of the old railroad crossings of the Pennsylvania and the New York Central, now split between CSX and Norfolk Southern. So you can imagine the sounds of the night here, double tracks in four directions with multiple trains. But, I still travel out of town, look up at the stars, and remember the sounds of home.

Living near Cherokee meant living near the fertilizer plant, the river, and, of course, the railroad. Only a single train came each night on a regular schedule so the rhythm did not change the cycle of the night. On many nights you might hear a barge softly chugging down the river. The sound I miss most is the steam whistle announcing the shift changes at the fertilizer plant. Many people at home remember the days before the plant was built so that sound is not so deeply implanted. My parents built our house and we moved in when I was about six months old. As a child I could hear all the sounds of the plant and they became a part of my life. Can you believe I miss those sounds? Sometimes it seems it would still be comforting to hear the whistle mark the midnight shift change. And I never can forget the cycle of the afternoon whistles. When Dad moved to day shift I knew exactly which one meant he was near the end of his shift and which meant the day of work was done, unless he had to work overtime.

Nights at my Granddaddy Daily’s house had its own rhythm. In the summer you had a combination of two nightly sounds. First, the sound of the pumping station, Texas Eastern, which was also built prior to my entry into the world. For those that lived there before the station was built it probably initially disturbed their nights. But for me the consistent sound of that pumping station had multiple benefits. It could lull you to sleep but it could also mean finding your way home. If you were hunting at night you could locate the direction of the sound and find your way home.

But, for me the most compelling sounds at my Granddaddy Daily’s house were the various bugs or insects. It was a practiced pattern with a consistent beat. I’m still not sure how the bugs worked it out or maybe I just heard it that way. But it is a pleasant beat that accompanied me not only on my many nights at their house, but also on many of our overnight camping trips. Now for the bugs it meant they were looking for a girlfriend or boyfriend, but I never understood how that a single bug among the millions made himself or herself the more attractive.

Another special treat was the sound of the rain. A thunderstorm at my Granddaddy’s house meant a virtual day of relaxation and a cleansing of the air. In contrast, today it means you better turn off the computer and video games or you will be making a trip to the big box electronics store to check your credit line.

Recently, before winter set in, my wife and I took a trip out to visit my Dad’s first cousin, which means my second cousin, Ed Hodge. Mr. Hodge lives in the vicinity of the Daily home places so it took me back to those home sounds. On the way home we took the route by Granddaddy’s old house. I told my wife about the many stories Granddaddy shared on the subject of wandering home in the dark after a long day of work. Wandering mostly meant walking. So as we neared the top of the hill on Mt. Mills Road we talked about how it must have felt walking those trails at night with little light and maybe nothing more than the moon. So I stopped on the road, turned out the lights on the Jeep, and we just sat and listened. I guess the total darkness without the moon may have made it frightening, but there it was. Those sounds. Without the engine of the Jeep and the modern disturbance of the radio you could hear home.

Take a trip out one night to where the sounds of today cannot interfere with the special sounds of nature and listen. Folks, those sounds and sights are something our friends in the big cities such as New York and Chicago just don’t get to share in a natural fashion. The next time you go into one of those highfalutin electronic stores in the big city you will find a special gadget that can be very expensive. Turn the display machine on. You know what you get? Those sounds. The very sound you can get for free just by either living a few miles out of our local towns or taking an overnight trip. Need a mixture of the availability of civilization and those sounds? There are some awfully nice camp sites down at the Colbert County Park on Riverton Rose Trail that have openings all summer long. Then you too can share in the sounds of home.