THE NIGHT OF THE SONIC BOOM

I became acquainted with James Thurber, writer of rib tickling short stories in my high school literature class.  I thought Thurber had a wonderful ability to look at and to experience life, from which to wring delightful humour.  His account of, “The Night the Bed Fell” is my favorite.  Ever so often, I reread it, and chuckle all over again….at the great consternation caused by a huge wooden  bed… falling with his father in it, in the middle of the night…..in an attic bedroom….. with a great crash heard all over the house.

Sometime after I first read the story in high school literature, I had my own night of consternation; to be ever after remembered as, “The Night of the Sonic Boom”.  It was in the dead of a summer night.  I was blissfully and peacefully, sleeping the sleep of the dead—the contented sleep of the, yet, to fly the coop, nestling.  All the house occupants were in the arms of Morpheus; the Greek god of sleep. 

Then—in the stillness of that night occurred the rudest awakening one should ever hope to have.  It was a formidable sound; loud and explosively startling—like a sonic boom!  Not from the sky, however.  It was inside the house—in the hallway—right outside my door at the top of the stairs!  It was about the loudest sound I think I’d ever heard.  Instantly awake, I was aware of two things:  my heart, thumping, and my brain, searching:  “WHAT?  WHAT?  WHAT? Fervently, I strained to know what the loud sound was, and what I might next expect.

There was brief silence.  Then, diagonally, from across the hall and through the dark, came this question from my youngest brother—every single word was emphasized: “MY GOD, WHAT WAS THAT!!?”  With five emphatic words, he had perfectly expressed the general question and consternation of all.  His words passed through my mind, electrifying the moment with humour; for, I was already hearing another sound—different from the first.  This new sound, on the heel of my brother’s words, was at that very moment solving the mystery, bringing immense relief and restoring peace and quiet to my world and to the household.  I reflected upon the humor of his words and the startling, loud sound before giving way to a fit of laughter.  

Without having to look, I now knew that, a huge clump of plaster had fallen from the ceiling at the top of the stairs—and that following the split second of quiet and my brother’s word—pieces of  plaster were now, methodically bouncing down the stairs.

This was not an unusual event in our old house—my dad was forever, patching plaster.  On that night, for 10, maybe 20 seconds the pieces continued to bounce, through the dark, to the hall floor, below, before all was quiet, again.  My story is not to tickle the ribs as is “The Night the Bed Fell”.  However, the suspense, the impactful, loud boom, the not knowing what had happened, the humorous words of my brother, and the ultimate moment of recognition and relief; all seared a delicious memory into my conscious mind, where it has lodged, to this day, as one brief moment of my youth.  I shall always remember it as, “The Night of the Sonic Boom”.

 As was my intent, as stated in my first post, “Bells and Whistles”; it was to give the extras that can so wondrously and so powerfully shape a child’s mind.  God knows that is the way in which my mother—of all her marvelous attributes, really shined.  In so doing, she gave of the treasure of her mind, which has always meant more to me than treasure from a mine.

 My personal experience of a disruptive sound in the middle of the night, found its self written into a literary counterpart, albeit, a lesser one to, “The Night the Bed Fell”.  Otherwise, it might never have been written.  It was just one tiny cog along life’s way; one tiny literary cog among countless others.  Who can say it was not inspired by James Thurber?  Expect other literary cogs from my personal memory to pop up, here, from time to time.

 By God’s grace, my earliest years were steeped in the best of man’s mind; creative nuggets that were recorded, accumulated, and preserved over thousands of years.  How fortunate for us humans!  Wisdom of the Bible, English and American Classics, nursery rhymes, fairy tales, Aesop’s fables, songs, rhymes, and more— can be woven throughout the days and years of our youths, to run continuously along side of the unrolling of our lives.  I couldn’t have asked for better; and as I said in my ending paragraph of my first post:

 “After all: it is World Literature and obedience to God that contributes largely to the character of the American soul.  The earlier both are introduced to children, the better for the mark they will make in life.  I don’t believe there is another person living who knows this any better than I.  Of course, my mom did, and up there in heaven, I’m positive she is looking down with a serene smile and an approving eye.”

  WHO HAS A BOOK

 Who has a book has friends at hand

And gold and gear at his command;

And rich estates, if he but look,

Are held by him, who has a book.

Who has a book has to read

And he may be a king indeed;

His kingdom is his inglenook

All this is his who has a book.

 —Author Unknown 

Vocabulary words:

consternation

sonic boom

Morpheus

formidable

fervent

plaster

attributes

albeit

inglenook

Suggestion:  Next to the listed vocabulary words on your refrigerator, have another list next to it, with names of all your household members.  On it, keep a record of who used which words throughout the week.

Make the activity fun, challenging, and rewarding as a way of sharing together in adding literary nuggets to young lives.  Homework offers, already, enough of what children consider to be drudgery.  Let acquiring a vocabulary be what it should be; not drudgery, at all, but effortless and appreciated; preparation for their individual life journeys; and openers of doors of opportunity.