I’m still amused by the sanctimonious “I-didn’t-hear-anything-I-trust-Jesus” type comments (the day a sonic boom shook the DMV), as if hearing it, being concerned, curious, or even mentioning it meant you were a faithless, foolish, unprepared heathen, with an oil-less lamp, and a Bible with the price tag still on it.
It was the deep-ness of the comments that struck me. The pious judgment and snarkiness of those whose peaceful afternoon had, too, been interrupted, were so…well…weird.
How cold, asleep, drunk, hypnotized, or sedated did one have to be, to not at least wonder about the sound? How much noise was one making on one’s own to have missed it?
It wasn’t mere thunder on steroids. It wasn’t an angelic trumpeter. It was a boom that punched and rattled the house. It had energy. You didn’t just hear it, you felt it.
I’m not sure why some heard it, and some didn’t, considering the vast area from which inquiries were coming. Some suggested an explosion, a plane crash, a meteor, artillery fire, spy activity, an earthquake, and even the triumphant return of the King of Kings. Frankly, if it had been Jesus, and we were all still chatting with, and updating each other on Facebook and Twitter, at some point we would all— the deeply devout, and the not-so-deep— have realized we’d all been left behind.
I was a teacher, and an apartment and condo dweller. I’ve heard all kinds of noise, from the deliberate noise of construction, to the unfortunate noise of violence. I’m a human being with a working auditory nerve. There have been countless “What was that?” moments in my life, from childhood to present day: hearing thin J&B gin bottles exploding (because they weren’t suitable for the homemade beer my Dad and his buddy George had made) to freight trains linking in the Addis Railway yard, to gunshots and bombs every Fourth of July, to seemingly inevitable automobile crashes on the corner of South Capitol and First Street (because drivers apparently thought “right turn on red” meant “hurry up and go”—even when southbound traffic had the right of way), to the rumbling and thudding every Friday when the trash and recycling trucks arrive.
I’ve heard noise. That sonic boom sounded like something fell from the sky. I fully expected to see damage, like a dazed elephant on the ground, trying to right itself after rolling off of the roof …or Auntie Em and Uncle Henry’s house resting on top of a deceased witch.
Why were some people so quick to turn the event into a religious competition or test? Concern and curiosity are neither fear nor faithlessness. Asking questions doesn’t indicate lack of trust. My Dad used to say, “Don’t GET ready. BE ready”. I know what he meant. I’m also glad that if I would have had to suddenly flee my house last Sunday, although I was channeling my inner bum, I was ready and dressed for public consumption— which was not always the case in these almost, sorta/kinda post-pandemic streets.
Frankly, I’m happy for those who said they “didn’t hear a thing”. I mean, it wasn’t the kind of thing you wish and hope others would hear, like new music from your favorite artist. No one is suggesting that those who didn’t hear the boom missed out on a treat. There was nothing celebratory or envy- inspiring about it. I detest unnecessary noise. That boom went beyond noise, though, and pierced your soul. It was jarring and intrusive. It was brief, but rousing. It was a single sound, that dissipated as quickly as it came, and made my heart go out to anyone currently living in a war zone, or under a flight path.
It was, however, a teachable moment.
I saw one of my neighbors boldly walking around outside to investigate. He was bravely prowling as if he was prepared to do battle if he had found the cause of our collective, disturbed peace.
I merely went to every window and looked out. There was no carnage; no collision; no smoldering crater; no fire. Just calm.
My curiosity drove me to inquire on social media, where I found others in my vicinity who were equally curious. It wasn’t long before reactions and explanations started pouring in. Some were quite technical—science-based and educational even. I learned there are lots of amateurs who follow air traffic reports. I was actually touched by the way everyone was checking on each other. It’s been a wacky few years, and you just never know what people are going through. But, to suggest that your faith and trust in God is greater than that of others because you didn’t flinch last Sunday? Please.
At least, now, more of the population knows what a sonic boom sounds like— and have confirmation that we’ve heard them before (Oh! That’s what that was!). We tend to become complacent about, and ignore stuff that’s commonplace, though.
We also know that we may not get a heads up so that we can brace ourselves. I suppose I do prefer that the F-16’s scramble first and explain later.
“Sonic boom” certainly lives up to its name.
As you were, everyone… unless if you, like me, had to actually think about what it was you were doing prior to the boom…lol
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