The Talking Metronome
I had purchased a talking metronome while I was attending a conference
in New York for music teachers. Before my son and I boarded our flight
home, I hefted my carry-on bag onto the security-check conveyor belt.
The guard's eyes widened as he watched the monitor. He asked what I
had in the bag, then slowly pulled out the six-by-three-inch black box
covered with dials and switches. Other travelers, sensing trouble,
vacated the area.
"A metronome," I replied weakly, as my son cringed in embarrassment.
"It's a talking metronome," I insisted. "Look, I'll show you." I took
the box and flipped a switch, realizing that I had no idea how it
worked, "One... two... three... four," it said. Everyone breathed a
sigh of relief.
As we gathered our belongings, my son whispered, "Aren't you glad it
didn't go 'four... three... two... one...?'"