From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sound
The slush beneath my boots is drowned out by the metallic clatter of the new electric trolley and the constant, rhythmic whistling of "Put On Your Old Grey Bonnet" from every street corner. Some blockhead is shouting about Hearst and political graft, but I’m too busy blocking out the racket by ducking into the local apothecary for a five-cent loaf. Only a total chump would care about the Board of Estimate when the air smells of fresh soot and someone’s cranking a gramophone nearby. I just want to slip home, ignore the winter chill, and see if my brother finally figured out how to use that newfangled electric toaster without burning the kitchen down.