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Snorestorm · 17 August 2019



I do not know if it is a new word or not, but I am claiming that I created the new word: Snorestorm.


Snorestorm is simply a noun that means one of two things. It is either a boring event or a bunch of people sleeping in the same room. In either case, the people present are snoring up a storm. A snorestorm.


I suppose it could be a Snoresymphony if all those people could coordinate their various snoring styles to make beautiful music. But that does not seem likely. Snorecacophony would be more like it. Unfortunately, neither of those words tells the story behind the snoring. They only tell about the sound quality. Thus, the new word: Snorestorm.


I remember many a snorestorm growing up. Usually at family gatherings. Usually after a large meal. Those snorestorms would start out gradually. One relative (usually my dad or an uncle) would sit on the couch at my Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Ostensibly to watch TV. Others would also gather ‘round and spread out on different places to sit. Or kinda sit. Inevitably, one after another, their heads would nod and the snoring would start.


(Of course, this was all before people talked about tryptophan causing people to fall asleep after eating lots of turkey, which we know is not really why people fall asleep after gorging themselves at Thanksgiving dinner. The real reason people fall asleep after those big meals is because they let themselves indulge in such big meals. But that is quite another story.)


The snoring when I was growing up never sounded like a symphony, but it almost always built like one. First one person nodded off and started snoring, and then another, and then another. Like a musical crescendo, but the snorers were not all in tune or in time. Not quite a cacophony, but certainly not a symphony. Something more like an improvisation session with people who could not hear each other or take their solo cues from the rest of the tune. Still, the snorestorm was beautiful in its own way. Like a thunderstorm when it is far enough away not to do any damage, but near enough to feel the thunderclaps and kabooms.


Well, the music of those snorestorms of old was not what I originally intended to write about, but it is probably more interesting (especially since I forget what I was going to write in the first place). Certainly more nostalgic. For I do remember those family gatherings with fondness. And I do remember those snorestorms as unique symphonies performed by family members young and old. And I do remember that those who were not making the music were laughing or talking in a different room. Which added much to the whole experience of sight, smell, and certainly sound. Seeing my relatives sleeping in couches and chairs or even on the floor, smelling the aromas of the feast just past, and hearing the sounds of contentment and joy and sleeping. Those are memories worth reminiscing about.


I know I was not heading toward reminiscing when I started this piece about my new word, but I am glad I took the detour. After all, I am not sure where I was headed in the first place. But I do know that I will fondly remember those family gatherings long ago. At whoever’s homes. Where the family members came together for a feast. Then like clouds, gathered ‘round the living room, forming the inevitable snorestorm.


Snorestorm. Maybe I made up a new word. But whether I did or not, the word will conjure up fond memories now. Yes, I will always remember those old snorestorms.

© 2019 Michael T. Miyoshi

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