After my essay on “Whistles” was completed, it struck me that as a matter of equity, there should be a story about bells. Bells and whistles are in the same family of sounds that enhance our lives. So here are my thoughts about bells.
From my earliest days on the Lilac Roost Dairy Farm in Clayton, Missouri, bells have been an important part of my life. In those days, some of the cows wore bells around their necks. I assume this made finding them when they were out in the pasture a little easier. But cowbells are among my first memories.
I suppose that starting to school caused all of us to become acquainted with bells. There were bells in the morning that told tardy students that they were late. There were bells that sounded at the time for lunch and another bell a little later which called the students back to their classes. And there were bells that marked “recess time.” At the end of the day there were bells which permitted the students to go home. So a good part of our lives, mine particularly, have been under the control of bells.
These days I usually sit in the car while Judy attends to business with the pharmacy and the mailing of packages. The pharmacy has narrow aisles and I am concerned in my current state about knocking some of their exhibits to the ground, so I stay in the car which is parked adjacent to the railroad station. The electric trains that operate on the New Jersey Transit commuter system, which succeeded the Lackawanna here in New Jersey, seldom sound their whistles as they travel between stations in the suburbs. Quite to the contrary, the engineers give the bells a vigorous workout as they enter a stop and as they leave. That is fine with me because I like to hear train bells.
Fire engines also have large bells to ring. In many cases where they would like to avoid using their sirens, they ring their bells to get traffic out of the way. The sound carries quite a distance and it presages the appearance of the fire engine, an impressive sight. Again in this case, I suspect that the man who rings the bells takes great pleasure in doing so.
When you go to a restaurant and a chef finishes preparation of your meal, he will often ring a bell so that the waiter may pick up the food. Bells like this are usually the sign of good news. Bon Appetite!
For a time in the 1990s, my wife Judy and I rode bicycles. It was our intent to ride the bikes a hundred miles per week. We usually came pretty close to that objective. For reasons of safety we loaded the bikes with horns and bells. Our intention was to make it obvious to any driver that we were also on the road.
The Hellman’s live four or five houses up the street. They have three children. There was a boy named Jordan, who was about three, and Pamela, his sister, who may have been a year older. The eldest member of the Hellman children was Janey, a six- or seven-year old.
When we rode our bikes by the Hellman children, who were often found playing in their yard near the street, the kids would stop us with the intention of blowing the horn and mostly ringing the bells. As we pulled to a stop at the end of the Hellman driveway, Jordan would fly toward us, arms akimbo, to ring the bells and to honk the horn. Closely following was his sister Pamela, who also demanded her turn at ringing the bells. Janey, the eldest, held out as long as she could with her sophistication. When the sophistication gave out, old Janey came over to ring the bells and sound the horns. On one occasion when it did not appear that we intended to stop at the Hellman playground, Jordan, the three-year old, yelled at us, “Hey, come over here!” Now, who can ignore a demand like that?
In hospitals, for example, there is a loud bell which, when rung, will tell people that an emergency situation exists. When that bell is sounded, people know that it is time to get out and seek safety. The same is true is schools and other buildings.
It also turns out that ships have bells too. My experience on the troop ship at Dakar, Senegal, reminds me that not only did the whistle blow as we entered the harbor but that the bell was rung for perhaps four or five minutes. It was a pleasant sound. But I am not an impartial observer. I like bells.
Bells are also used in church services. For reasons unknown to me, Protestant churches seem to feature, occasionally, bell-ringing choirs. The bell ringers seem to be more female than male and there may be as many as 20 of them holding their bells in an upright position, ready to be rung. There are soprano bells and alto bells and baritone bells and base bells. But when they are rung by a choir of bell ringers, I must say that I can make very little sense out of it. But if it suits the bell ringers and if it spreads the gospel, who am I to criticize it? In the Catholic faith, I gather that bell ringing is also an important function, but I am not schooled in that faith. I have no reliable report on bell ringing in other faiths.
There was a point when the Carr family with its young daughters visited Williamsburg, Virginia, to see the sights there. There was an occasion when my daughter of six or seven years used her savings secretly to buy me a small bell in a Williamsburg store. That little girl is now 50 years of age and for the past 43 or 44 years, that bell has sat on a table near my chair. It is one of my most prized possessions.
As one travels around the world, a person is often struck by the universality of bells. They appear in every culture in the known world. The world seems to recognize that bells are an important part of everyday life.
When wars end, bells in almost every church and city hall ring out the news. It is joyous news and when the people hear it, they must know that it portends good fortune. When Paris was liberated, the bells rang. When the Germans were chased out of Rome, the bells rang. When the end of World War II occurred, I happened to be in this country and I can tell you that bells were rung for long periods of time. It was a joyous occasion.
Near our home, almost in the center of Millburn, New Jersey, there is a Catholic church and a school that has a very large bell outside the entrance. When people are married, I have heard that bell ring out the good news. On other occasions, when a child is to be christened, the bell is also rung. On those sad occasions when a funeral is held in the church, the bell rings a mournful sound.
The bell at Saint Rose of Lima Church is located adjacent to the playground for the children attending that school. It strikes me that the kids attending that school are most fortunate in that they can tell the occasion from the ringing of their bell. It signals the start of a new life just as it signals the end of an older life. Perhaps that is a very important lesson to demonstrate to the children who attend that school.
This was not intended to be a research project on bells. More than anything else, it has to do with my experience over a long lifetime with bells. I am very fond of them. In a recent essay which was devoted largely to the tragedy of events in Iraq, I was moved by John Donne’s work of nearly 450 years ago. The work is known by its first line, which is, “No man is an island.” But the significant part of Mr. Donne’s work comes in the final stanza. It holds, “Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” John Donne was an Anglican preacher, a meditator, a producer of devotions, and a producer of sermons as well as poetry. John Donne was right with his work of more than 400 years ago. I suspect that none of us are going to escape this life without the bell tolling.
I hope that you have enjoyed reading about whistles and bells. I had never given them much thought until today, but considering them gave me much pleasure. I hope that you share in that pleasure.
E. E. CARR
January 24, 2007
Essay 229
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Kevin’s commentary: A handy essay to go with “WHISTLES.”
I’d honestly forgotten just how dominated school was by the bell system. People would synchronize their watches with the school clocks just to know, to the second, when class would end.