Kate's Voice

I finally got around to going through some drawers in my office that had not seen the light of day in months, maybe years.  They were filled with papers that I didn’t have time to deal with before.  Now, time was my file clerk: Most of the papers were outdated and unimportant, so I just threw them away.  After the last paper was removed, I noticed an unmarked cassette tape at the bottom of the drawer.  Since cassette tapes are even more outdated than some of the papers I found, I considered just tossing it as well, but curiosity got the best of me.  I grabbed my dusty cassette player, turned it on, and inserted the cassette.

At first there was a loud rushing sound—the sound you hear on tapes that were recorded with a built-in mic—then I heard a funny cooing sound.  I wasn’t sure what it was at first, though it sounded human.  Then after a few more sounds, I realized it was a baby.  I heard little squeals of delight, the sound of a toy hitting the ground, a little fussy  whimper, and then something like a cross between a baby crying and a car engine that wouldn’t start.  These were followed by a man saying, “Uh-oh.  Did you drop it?  Better pick it up.”   Then a woman saying, “Hi, baby girl. Do you want your toy?” and louder, “Katie, you know where the cookies are.” A young voice responded, “Yes, Nanny.  That would be so delicious!”

I stopped the tape and rewound it.  I listened, and stopped it again, this time in pure disbelief and wonder.  The voices I heard were ones I hadn’t heard in years.  The familiar patterns of sound took me back to the aromas of my mother’s cooking and my dad’s pipe, the warmth and softness of a plump baby filling my arms, and the blue glass of the cookie jar that Mom kept in her kitchen for my children.

Many years and what seems like another life time ago, my daughter was an infant lying on the wooden floor of my parents’ living room.  I remember my mom giving me the tape, saying that she had recorded it one night while she was babysitting for me.  She didn’t want me to forget my daughter’s unique vocal sounds.

Now, when I listen to the recording, I agree that my little girl made some unusual sounds, but so much more comes flooding back. Listening to the tape, I recall my daddy’s voice that I was sure I would never hear again, mom’s cheery words that always spoke wisdom and love when I needed them, my oldest daughter’s articulate speech that even then reflected a love for language, and my youngest, whose vocal sounds as an infant foreshadowed her general impatience with life’s little frustrations and her drive to plow through them.

After listening to the whole thirty-minute tape several times, I labeled it and put it in a box in my dresser for safekeeping.  I made a note in my calendar to have it transferred to a digital file.

I am especially grateful for those voices and the people they represent.  I am thankful for the technology, however archaic, that allowed my mom to capture that moment in time. I am also grateful for the fact that the tape was serendipitously kept in a dry, dark place for so long.  Above all, I celebrate the miracle of the human voice, a sound that says so much more than mere words.

What do you remember or love about someone in your life?