My dad called today. He was the happiest I’ve heard him. He said, today during his meditation, he found his whistle. For awhile, it was gone.
One of few early memories I can recall is of he and I sitting in his car. My parents had recently divorced and I think he was dropping me off at home. We must have gone out to eat because we both had toothpicks in our mouth. My dad always got a toothpick after dinner, and somehow I have a feeling I thought my dad was pretty cool, and I think, maybe I wanted to be just like him. So, of course, like him, I too had a toothpick in my mouth.
Not only was my dad cool with a toothpick, he was a great whistler. I definitely had whistle envy. I’d pucker up and all you heard from me was forced, strained air. My dad, however could not only project a crisp, clear sound, he could whistle a tune. Wow.
Teach me, daddy. Teach me.
With the toothpick in my mouth, in the center of a small circle formed by my lips, I pulled out the toothpick and out came a sound. It was a whistle. My dad, in my young mind, taught me how to whistle. Although I don’t think I’ve whistled since.
I was surprised he had lost his whistle and we both laughed as he shared how today, he had found it. When we whistle we can’t really be sad. It’s a happy thing to do, and I think thoughtful. Reflective, perhaps. Even if we whistle a sad tune, the sorrow we may feel, but our whistling lets us know we are NOT the sorrow we feel.
I have two theories~ I think men whistle and women hum. My mom hates humming. Her aunt, and I believe her mother hummed, as do the “old ladies” in the community where she lives. She will not admit this, but my mom, now hums too. Which brings me to theory two- whistling & humming are good for the soul. And speaking of humming, four hummingbirds drank from my feeder today. Two, I have seen, but never four.
These are just a few simple experiences, thoughts, and memories I had today, that I wanted to share.
The Soul Reporter