Sounds That Once Set My Heart Racing…

…now set my teeth grinding. For example:

The Ice Cream Cart Jingle
When I was a child and heard that tune, I would rush out with my nickel or dime full of anticipation. Today, that repetitive melody sends me rushing to shut the windows and a desire to hire a sniper to pick off the driver.

Fire Engine Sirens…
…used to send me racing to the window to see if there was smoke on our street. If there was, I would run out to join in the excitement. Now I plug up my ears until the noise dies away and I can go about my business.

A Telephone Ringing…
…once had me tearing to the phone to answer it. Maybe it was a girlfriend, or even--a BOYFRIEND! Now the sound merely irritates me. I know it will be either a telemarketer or someone asking for a donation to some cause I have no interest in, or, worse yet, someone doing a survey.

The Thump of the Mail Hitting the Floor of the Vestibule…
…would bring me panting to see if that boy I met at summer camp had finally written to me. Or, when I was younger, if Grandma had sent a present or a card with a dollar bill enclosed. Today I know the mail will be nothing but bills, advertisements, and catalogs selling wart-removal ointment, back braces, and lotions to prevent receding hair.

The Clink and Clank of Pots and Pans in the Kitchen…
…once signaled my grandmother was baking cookies or my mother was preparing a delicious dinner. Now it’s probably the cat threading her way through the pots on the stove looking for a stray morsel or my husband making a pot of fresh coffee.

A Shrill Whistle…
…from a boy wearing a Phillies baseball cap and had a chip out of his front tooth, would send me careening onto the sidewalk to play stick ball, roller skate, or dig fox holes in the back woods. Today that same whistle would send me to the sidewalk again, to see how that cute guy turned out.

Robin Hathaway

Whatever Happened to the Whistle?

I don’t hear it anymore. Is it because everyone is glued to their cell phone or iPod and don’t feel the need to make music anymore? What a shame.

"You know how to whistle, don't you?
You just put your lips together and blow."

When I was a kid we used to have whistling contests, to see who could whistle the longest and the loudest. I even won, sometimes. But recently I’ve lost the knack. I purse my lips, blow, and nothing comes out. But I began practicing, and like the trumpeter who lost his lip, it came back! This morning I was walking to the Post Office, pursing my lips and puffing away, when--presto! I heard myself whistling--a lovely rendition of The Saints Come Marching In. It really bucked me up.

Didn’t the Seven Dwarfs whistle while they worked? They were a cheerful bunch. (Grumpy was the exception.) I remember an old radio show called “The Whistler” that started off with a very spooky whistle that sent chills up my spine.

But never underestimate the power of the whistle as an instrument for good cheer. Once, long ago, when I was very young, (about 22), I was walking to work on a rainy Monday morning feeling lonely and depressed. I stopped for a traffic light and a truck stopped beside me. The driver leaned out of the cab and gave me a wolf whistle. Wow! I don’t care what my feminist friends say, that whistle perked me up and made my day. (Of course, the guy was probably half asleep or blind, but that didn’t matter.)

Robin Hathaway