listening to the past

 I saw an advertisement for bell buoys. This gentleman and his wife manufacture them in Maine. Well, they are not making bell buoys exactly, just bells that mimic the sound of a bell buoy. They advertise that they have tuned these bells to replicate the sound of specific bells. I'm certainly no expert on such things and I was fascinated. I went to their website and scrolled down the list. They listed one as the Long Island bell buoy. I played the sound bite. I have to say I  was quite disappointed. It didn't sound anything like the bell buoy I am familiar with. The one I remember sounded more like a gong than a bell. What I heard was a simple wind chime, one striker, one tone.  The one tone is accurate enough, I'll give them credit for that, but the tone was far too high pitched. I checked the price, starting at 45 dollars. I looked at a picture of one. It was a triangle shaped deal, looking nothing like a bell buoy. Well, it is great idea anyway.
 When I was young I would hear the sound of that bell buoy occasionally. I didn't live close enough to hear it all the time. Now, fifty odd years later I can't say with certainty where it was even located. Somewhere in Gardiners bay, probably close to the entrance to the breakwater leading into Three Mile harbor. I'm sure some of the old folks still living there will fill me in later on. Anyway, I cam hear that bell in the night sometimes when I close my eyes. It is a comforting sound, always was somehow. Some hear it as a warning, but I heard it as a welcome. It is one sound that would be included if I were asked to produce a soundtrack of my youth. It would have to be there alongside the screeching of the seagulls, the creak of an wooden boat, and the gentle slap of waves against the bulkhead. I can hear the call of the whippoorwill in the darkness, and the sound of tires on a dirt road. We didn't have a screen door that slammed shut, although I know that sound well, but the creak and groan of an ironing board is very familiar to me. All sounds that take me back to my youth.
 There are those that collect lighthouses. My mother has quite a few. Small replicas of all the lighthouses on the east coast, for the most part. I grew up about twenty miles from Montauk light. Never been inside it, never took the time. It is just one of those things, standing there in my backyard. It wasn't an attraction, it was a fixture. Something there, taken for granted. My hometown has windmills though. Five of them to the best of my knowledge. I've been inside three of them. A thought I entertain every now and again is building a replica of the old Hook mill. It is that mill that is the symbol of the town and most well known. Maybe one day I'll do that. Somebody is most likely selling them somewhere. If not, someone ought to get on it. There's money to be made there. I had, for many years, a small bag of corn meal that was ground using that mill, it was a souvenir intended for tourists. I didn't pay for mine of course, I was a local. Yeah, the mill was just another thing in my backyard, always there, taken for granted.
 I have few pictures of my home from when I was a kid. Back then we did have to get them developed and they weren't cheap. As a result you didn't just take pictures for the sake of taking pictures. It had to be a special occasion of some type. Natural disasters got recorded, and birthdays. A few shots on Christmas morning maybe. Memories remain however, memories with sound. The sounds that ran in the background of our lives often unnoticed. Those sounds were there as surely as the lighthouse and the mill. Didn't really pay much attention to them. Funny how after fifty odd years I can still hear them though. The past is a noisy place. All you have to do is listen.