The Sound of Trouble

Ive just had a pretty big lunch here at the office – soup and sandwich from a local supermarket deli – and really really needed an after lunch cafecito. Now, this being Miami, I could have just gotten in my car, driven maybe a block or so to a nearby timbiriche or cafeteria and for less than a buck gotten that black caffeinated gold. Luckily though, I didnt have to go through all that trouble.

My wife – bless her – made me a whole colada this morning before leaving for work. I carried it with me in a new Thermos we got. One of those insulated glass vacuum bottles.

And as I am opening the thing up, Im reminded that I hadnt seen one of those things in years and these little memory flashes started popping up in my head.

My dad brewing his cafe in the mornings before going to work then pouring two whole brews into his tall red and black plaid Thermos. The way that thing had survived so many years. Full of paint blotches and scratches and little dings here and there. And how even after hours and hours he’d open that top up and steam would still rise along with that friendly aroma of home made cafe cubano.

Or the little mini-thermos in my lunchboxes when I was a kid. Scooby-Doo Thermos, Puff-n-Stuff thermos. Batman Thermos. GI Joe Thermos. Spiderman Thermos. Any one of those always placed there quite snuggly in its corresponding little metal lunchbox. Cafe-con-leche or juice or plain old white milk inside that bottle next to a banana and a sandwich or a couple Oreos or a little sandwich bag filled with brown and white powder.

Then, as I’m pouring out my cafecito into my coffee mug this thing pops into my head, this memory, this aural recollection that just made me laugh.

The sound of trouble.

Im sure you all know what it is. If you ever carried a lunchbox to school you most certainly have experienced the sound of trouble before.

There’s really no other sound quite like it. Nothing comes close to immitating it or the subsequent worry that comes over you when you hear that sound.

In elementary school the tricksters would go around undoing the latches to their unsuspecting victim’s lunchboxes and then laugh as their little oranges and apples and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would spill out onto the floor. And at that precise moment, as the first apple hit the floor, in a panic, the unsuspecting victim would quickly, although it seemed like slow motion, contort himself to try to catch the sound of trouble before it became the sound of trouble.

And the rest of the kids around him frozen in absolute silence. Wincing. Waiting for that sound of trouble that they themselves were all too familiar with.

Sometimes, you would accidentally bump your lunchbox with a desk or a doorway and it would fall. And you’d stand there staring at it. Afraid to open it. Afraid of the sound of trouble that might possibly be snuggled inside.

Or how youd carefully place your lunchbox and its accompanying bottle smack dab in the center of the lunch table. Making sure no one came near it, not necessarily because they’d take your lunch or drink, but because you were concerned. Placing that little bottle anywhere near the edge of the table could lead to the sound of trouble.

So, now do you remember the sound of trouble? That distinct muffled resonance? That sound from so long ago that to this day still gives you the shivers? Tiny little stifled echoes of pieces of glass mixing together with liquid inside a plastic container?

That’s the sound of trouble. A broken Thermos.

Just wait til you get home and mom hears it.

13 thoughts on “The Sound of Trouble”

  1. I knew I should have used the stainless steel nissan thermos that we’ve had for years….
    (The child proof one)

  2. So, was it just the memory of the sound of trouble or did you actually hear the sound that triggered the memory. In other words, Did you break the poor thermos?

  3. Val,
    I’ve heard “the sound of trouble” one too many times, and as soon as I saw the very first thermos bottle lined in steel, I bought one. Have used it now for close to 20 years. Still going strong.
    Let’s face it. Once you hear “the sound of trouble” from a thermos bottle, all you’ve got on your hands is nothing but a mediocre maraca. After one hears “the sound of trouble” from a thermos, it’s time to “Cantar el Manicero” (now there’s a Cubanism you ought to explain to your readers!
    A warm embrance and a hearty “THANK YOU!!!” to all the veterans who read this blog, for all your sacrifices on our behalf, as well as to their families, who also pay as high a price as those in the uniform.
    Salud!
    Julio

  4. I clearly remember my personal “sound of trouble” … it was ejected from my favorite “luncherita” … I still have a vivid picture of it … it was one of those yellow school buses with Disney characters … I went to pick it and … I was one of those “unsuspecting victim” … but at the same time, this experience is reminiscent of the good old days of my childhood … I had friends that would even take “maltas” in their thermos … plantain chips instead of potato chips . . . and the ever so popular sandwiches “con pasta de bocadito” … 🙂

  5. “Pasta de bocadito”!!!
    Why do those words bring to mind such painful memories?
    Small wedges of white bread, with the edges trimmed off, with some god-awful pinkish paste in between?
    Arghhh!
    They seemed to be present at every party I attended in the late 50s and early 60s.
    Pretty bad taste too, if memory serves.
    I wonder who invented that awful mix? And how did it ever get to be so popular in that Cuba, now gone forever?
    Julio

  6. Gracias Val, como siempre, i’m sitting here in my basement reading your blog and all the sudden i’m transported back to my Grandparent’s apartment in Hialeah. Cuantas veses mi Abuelo perdio el “termo” que acababa de comprar porque a unos de los nietos se le callo.

  7. What memories these postings bring back! I still remember my schoolmate at Colegio Baldor in Havana, who, during recess one day dropped his thermos bottle…clink! The disconsolate look and tears on his face reflected the pain of knowing he would not have his cafe-con-leche that day. I sympathized, but could only shrug my shoulders and give him a helpless look. You see, there was no more cafe-con-leche to share, in my thermos bottle…which eventually would also come to its inevitable end.

    If only I still had one of our Hopalong Cassidy or Wild Bill Hickock – and Jingles – lunchboxes!

  8. i confess.. i was one of the pranksters.. after they got me, i decided to get them back.. my personal best was “switching” lunches, and seeing the look on the kids faces when they stared at a lunch they werent expecting.. i did that to the two bullies that were always picking on me.. at least i didnt steal the cookies like tommy cundiff used to do..

  9. Asere, you got a gift. Though I never had problems with my school thermos (they were plastic when I was in school), mi Papa y mi Abuelo use to have that red and black plaided thermos. And though I don’t remember the sound of one breaking, I do remember the effect of the penetrating, eye popping, smell of Cafe Cubano bursting into the room upon opening the thermos.

    Dude, I haven’t remembered that in years. Thanks.

  10. Every one old enough to remember metal lunch boxes remembers that sound. And what was it with Mom and the thermos? A broken thermos was a sin right up there near the top of the list. Were they that expensive back then? (I can’t remember.)

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