All through the night the clanking of chains on the massive shovels on the edge of town as they opened up the earth ever deeper in their relentless quest for black gold..

At night, the mournful sound of of a locomotive whistle as it slowly trundled along the North side of town.

Oddly, the welcome sound of the milkman's clinking bottles announcing dawn's arrival following a restless night.

The thunderous squeak of the fourth stair from the top as you attempt to sneak downstairs for a surreptitious peek on Christmas Eve.

The piercing screems from the woman accross the street as she once again careened out of her house into the street attempting to escape from her abusive husband. She never pressed charges fearing a life of probable destitution.,

Polka music on Sunday mornings for two hours from the Pottsville radio station hosted by Jolly Jack Roble

The clanging of the junkman's bell announcing his presence on your block.

The ding ding ding of the Hokey-Pokey ice cream man who sold one dip cones for three cents out of a freezer on the back of his pick-up truck..

The singing of Christmas Carols, some in latin, by the congragation in the Church of Our Lady before midnight mass that made your spine tingle

The click click click from the heels of the forlorn uunmarried middle aged neighborhood woman's heels on the sidewalk beneath my bedroom window at 2:00 AM when the bars shut down

Bells ringing from every church in town on Sunday morning

The shouts and screams of kids playing in the streets all over town. There were no playgrounds. Kids learned to be inventive. Leaders emerged naturally to maintain some kind of orderliness within groups of widely varying ages. Large familes provided for an unending supply of playmates.

The raucous screaming of the fire horn at the Anthracite Fire Company. But it seemed less shrill when it proclaimed the start of the 9:00 PM curfew.

The carillon in the Methodist church on North Hickory Street which played a hymn at Noon and six PM. On most days it could be heard all over town.

The High School cheer leaders and band on the auditorium stage in the afternoon prior to a Friday night football game.

Ubiquitous cap guns on Independance Day.

The subtle sizzle of hamburgs and hot dogs frying on the grill in "The Greeks"..

The squish of carbonated water slushing into the glass of coke you ordered in Reed's Dairy Store.

The performance of the annual Christmas Pageant by students in the High School auditorium that provided a joyful surge in the seasons anticipatory glow.

The Organ Grinder, cranking out a melodic tune, who roamed the streets of town selling fortunes printed on folded paper that his parrot, normally perched on his shoulder, would pick out of a tray suspended from the Organ Grinder's neck.

The sound of an ice man chipping away at massive blocks of ice on his truck to get a size that would fit into a nearby residence's ice box

My Mom on early morning school days singing "Get up, get up you sleepy head.... get up, get up get out of bed"

The cackling of chickens in a cage on the back of a farmer's pickup truck as he made his usual Saturday rounds through town selling whatever he managed to grow on his farm. Little did those chickens know the fate that awaited them

Hearing, in the early morning darkness of a frigid winter, my Mom, in the basement, raking the coal furnace.

Coal being delivered to a home in the neighborhood, producing a sound that I can't find the words to describe. The coal was shoveled from a truck onto a chute that directed the coal to a bin in the recipient's basement. Rolling a lage tin can half full of pebbles down a sidewalk may approximate the sound.

There are few things more cheerful than a robin's song. Mount Carmel was blessed to have them in profusion... thanks probably to the many trees that lined almost every street in town and lawns that were well maintained.

Mount Carmel was astoundingly cosmopolitan. It achieved diversity long before liberals realized they could capitalize on it. Europeans flooded the area and thus many different lanquages could be heard being spoken everywhere.

The incredible racket made by a multitude of peep toads at Ryders Dam on an early Spring day.

The gentle scratching of the tree branches against the outside wall and window of my brother John's bedroom whenever the breezes became strong enough.

The constant hacking of the guy across the street as Black Lung Disease relentlessly and progressively obliterates his normal breathing capabilities.

The roar of rain on our attic roof.

The distant eerie howling of some disturbed or distraught dog in the middle of the night.

The creaking and snapping house noises instigated by the boogy-man that occupied the closet near my bed.

The demented neighborhood cat that quietly roamed the streets at night uuntil everyone's sleep had entered the REM stage. Then it cut loose with an unimaginably powerful, unearthly shriek that made your teeth vibrate and momentarily befuddle the synapses in your noodle..