Welcome to the latest installment of Five Minute Friday. So here I am on the front end of the assignment (writing) and looking forward to linking with my Five Minute Friday friends at fiveminutefriday.com . It’s always exciting — and often informative — to see how my fellow FMF friends develop their thoughts in a variety of different genres. If you get a chance, stop by.
I’ve been sharing snippets taken from Five Minute Friday: A Collection of Stories Written in Five Minutes Flat, compiled by Susan Shipe. They are a testament to the value of the exercise. This week, I’ll share some perspective from Laura who I hope inspires you to check us out … and maybe join in?
“FMF was one of the first online communities I found after starting a blog. These new friends offered an encouraging space and a welcoming place …to embrace the writing journey together.”
Okay. The prompt is the cryptic word LOUD. It should be interesting to see how my fellow writers respond to the prompt.
The timer is set, so I guess it’s time to GO…
I admit it. I wasn’t sure which way to go with this one. But as I thought about it — actually during the night as I slept on it — I was reminded of a couple of times when apparently I was too loud.
When I first started driving the Flintmobile, I didn’t have my own wheels so I used my Dad’s car. One morning as I was getting ready for school, Dad came storming in complaining about my, uh, volume level. Seems I not only changed his sleepy station to a more appropriate 60s playlist but also forgot to turn the volume down. Okay. A youthful discretion.
I also remember years later pulling in for a consistory meeting. As I opened the door to the church, I heard from the adjoining office, “Joe’s here!” before anyone had a chance to even see me. When I asked how they knew it was me, the pastor nonchalantly answered, “We heard you pull up.”
My wife and I often sparred about volume levels on the television … STOP
… or the radio in the car. She always insisted I was deaf, although, in truth, when Bon Jovi or Neil Diamond was on the playlist during her cleaning ritual, you could hear the lyrics in the detached garage.
Even today, the car volume is generally at max — and properly mixed front, back, left, right. I’ve always justified the higher than normal decibels to fighting road noise — especially if the sunroof or windows were open.
My new neighbors say they are entertained by my music as they do their laundry in the laundry room next door or just wander past the apartment. One commented he hasn’t figured out my likes yet, which is understandable since it varies day by day from Christian to Classical, from Country to Contemporary, from real Oldies (50s, 60s, and 70s) to Classic Rock.
Last week I saw my neighbor walking by with an umbrella under bright blue skies with nary a cloud in sight. I asked her why she had an umbrella. She said she heard thunderstorms were probable. When pressed further, she said she heard the weather report from the station I was listening to. The only problem was I was listening to a western Indiana station.
With apologies to no one, I follow Karen Carpenter’s advice … Sing. Sing a song. Sing out loud, sing out strong …
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Love is unselfishly choosing for another’s highest good. — C.S. Lewis
Sometimes I want to feel music as much as I want to hear it. I’m especially guilty of this in my car, but recently we had a family karaoke night at my house. A couple days later my neighbor told me she was raising the fence that divides our properties. I’m sure a coincidence, but we got a good laugh about it.
Amie, FMF #14
I dig that Sixties music,
that classic groovy sound;
country, man, it’s just too hick,
and jazz is too profound.
I Paint It Black with the Stones,
and For What It’s Worth,
Buff’lo Spingfields in by bones
from death right unto birth.
The Animals, though, most of all,
offer special grace;
they bring me always to The Wall
to Get Out Of This Place.
There was a time when I was whole;
these songs are sutures to the soul.
I’m with you, buddy. Jazz is not on my playlists. Take care of yourself!
I loved this. 🙂 My boys like their music loud. Rap and pop, to be precise. I used to listen to my radio loud when I was on long road trips. I’ve since toned it down, but there are days when sometimes I’m tempted to up, up the volume. 😉
Unfortunately I never learned to tone it down 😦 Thanks
This made me laugh at the end 🙂 I generally don’t like my music too loud but there are times where that’s the only way that’ll to do – when you’re really feeling the music.
Glad you found some joy in the post! Have a great and blessed weekend!
Oh yeah, I listened to old time rock n’ roll and doowop way back when, and I still listen to the same music today. My cousin put on a 45 rpm record of That’ll Be The Day by Buddy Holly, back in 1958, and I was hooked. Elvis Presley was All Shook Up, and Little Richard had a gal named Daisy, who almost drove him crazy. Good Golly Miss Molly. Gene Chandler was The Duke of Earl, and Chubby Checker sang Lets Twist Again like we did last summer. Carl Perkins said keep off of my Blue Suede Shoes. In the mid fifties, Bill Haley and the Comets said See Ya Later Alligator.
Doowop is my favorite though from way back when In The Still of the Night. The Spaniels said Goodnight Sweetheart. The Flamingos Only Had Eyes For You. And me ? I’m Stuck In The 50s Tonight. All you cats out there….Be cool.
Nice playlist. Although they probably weren’t it seemed like more peaceful times! Stay safe my friend.
That reminds me of my moms car. She used to have an orange Chevy Nova that was so loud. The kids we babysat would yell “Sandys car” when they heard her coming down the road. 🙂
It’s a generational thing.
Haha, like the story of the lady with the umbrella.
True story. She was doing her laundry and heard the weather report. A little while later when she went out she had her umbrella with her. 87 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. 🙂
I don’t like my music loud – but never did…even as a teenager. I guess habits start early:) TOO FUNNY about your neighbor and the umbrella!
Reblogged this on Momentary Lapse Of Sanity.
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