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Whirlpool presents ickx he got new shoes with toes.
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Ew. He owned a race car that was also a bed. He smelled really familiar, like my dad. After he washed his clothes, he left them in the washer too long.
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Laundry can be a major ick, but your front load washer doesn't have to be the Whirlpool front load washer with a fresh flow vent system. It's a trio of features that help keep your clothes and washer fresh, even if those clothes are tie dye. Whirlpool Everyday Care Foreign.
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I'm Maggie Smith and this is the Slowdown. It's summer and I can smell it in the air. One whiff of chlorine or sunscreen screen and I'm carried back to the swimming pool of my childhood and all of the sense memories that come with that. The paintbrush tip of the end of my wet ponytail, the hot pavement under my bare feet, the terry cloth towel wrapped around me. Other smells take me back in time too. Cut grass, campfire smoke or Shalimar, my grandmother's perfume. Research has shown that our sense of smell, the olfactory sense, is the one most closely associated with memory. The olfactory bulb runs from the nose to the base of the brain and is directly connected to regions of the brain linked to memory and emotion. No wonder some smells can conjure memories instantaneously. But what about sounds? Tires on a rainy street, ocean waves, Even certain ringtones are like time machines transporting me to other times and other places. Music itself is a time machine. The other day I heard a Donna Summer song and was immediately six years old again, dancing with my younger sisters in the family room of my childhood home while that record spun on my parents turntable. I've been a music lover all my life. In fact, listening to music was my gateway to writing poems. I started with my parents records, then my own cassettes and CDs. I used to listen to the same songs over and over, writing down the lyrics and thinking about what the images and metaphors meant to me. Today's poem is a celebration of sound and also a celebration of our own power to to interpret sound and make meaning as poets do. Poems, like songs, are meant to live in the air. They are their own music. Etude by Amy Goersler As a child I loved air raid sirens and the blare of the all clear, the vacuum cleaner's roar, the scrape of the dog's teeth raking a bone, the rustle of mother's skirt as she was leaving. All were melody to me. I wanted to test the outer limits of listening. But what could that mean? I took seriously the galaxies of static between radio stations, full of whispered transmissions from the living and the dead. I didn't have to explain whether or not it was music. I just needed to get there. So I tried. Constrained by physical limits and the feeling at times of having failed at life and let others down, people try to deny their freedom. Freedom derived from emptiness and silence is most scary to me, but also most productive in the no man's land. Between noise and music, you can make sounds evolve by doing things you were told you couldn't do. Some of it was worked out mathematically. When I read that giraffes hum to each other all night, I thought, that's just one example. You can be the music's protege, make it echo in you. There wasn't a mad scientist in sight, so I supposed I would have to do the Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram at at Slowdown show and blue sky@downdownshow.org hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown helps you discover new poems and and revisit old favorites. You can help us continue showcasing poetry from a diverse swath of authors by making a tax deductible gift. Head to slowdownshow.org donate today.
Episode Title: 1334: Étude by Amy Gerstler
Host: Maggie Smith
Podcast: The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily
Date: August 20, 2025
In this episode, Maggie Smith explores the intimate link between sensory experiences—especially sound and scent—and memory. Through personal reflection and the reading of Amy Gerstler’s poem “Étude,” Smith celebrates the poetic power of attentive listening, and how both music and poetry invite us to find meaning and wonder in the world around us.
“No wonder some smells can conjure memories instantaneously.”
(03:27)
“Music itself is a time machine… I heard a Donna Summer song and was immediately six years old again, dancing with my younger sisters in the family room…”
(04:10)
Smith reads the full text of “Étude,” delivered in her reflective and gentle tone. Key themes in the poem include:
The childhood fascination with sounds—everything from air raid sirens to the subtle rustle of a skirt is experienced as melody.
The pursuit of attentive listening and the questioning of what counts as “music.”
An embrace of the spaces between noise and silence, where creativity flourishes.
“In the no man’s land between noise and music, you can make sounds evolve by doing things you were told you couldn’t do.”
(Poem at 06:45)
The poem’s closing image of giraffes humming to each other at night invites listeners to consider the overlooked music in the world around us.
“When I read that giraffes hum to each other all night, I thought, that’s just one example. You can be the music’s protégé, make it echo in you…”
(Poem at 07:00)
Maggie Smith maintains a warm, gentle, and reflective tone, blending personal reminiscence with poetic insight. Her language is evocative, descriptive, and welcoming, drawing listeners into both her memories and the world of the poem.
This episode of The Slowdown uses the lens of poetry—specifically Amy Gerstler’s “Étude”—to reflect on how sound and scent shape our inner and outer worlds. Through attentive listening, Maggie Smith encourages us to rediscover the music in everyday life, to “lean into wonder,” and to recognize the poetic resonance within our memories and senses.