THE Whistle and THE Whistler

 

       Neither of his three sons can replicate the sound. But we heard its distinctive lilt many times. Whistling, like singing, is something I do when no one else is within hearing distance. But his was not a 'tune'. Rather, he had a two note trill reserved primarily for summoning us from distances of at least a quarter of a mile.  At those times, the appropriate response was "Coming".

     I don't remember the first time that I heard it but it happened often in various occasions.  Many 'championship' basketball games occurred in the backyard of  Phil Tillerson's home.  A heavily wooded area separated his home and ours. Many of these late afternoon games terminated when from across the oaks and pines came the notes that told us that either the evening meal was ready or that our chores awaited.

   My PhD graduation occurred in cavernous Carmichael Auditorium at UNC-CH.  Dad and Mom found seats high in the 'nose bleed' area.  Each student received our diplomas individually, usually followed by hearty applause.  Above the noise, from far away, I heard "it" and knew it to be an expression of pride.

   When his middle son enrolled at UNC-CH, dad's weekly routine took him to the Metropolitan Insurance office in nearby Durham.  Consequently, my brother enjoyed the perk of weekly laundry service.  Once when dad came by, the roommate did not know his whereabouts, nor did anyone else.  So dad went out into the Quad and whistled.  Playing ping-pong in the dorm basement and with no foreknowledge of dad's presence, Dennis appeared below the transom and gave the usual response, "coming".

    The younger of my two brothers thinks that he may be able to imitate 'the whistle'.  But as  for  volume, he wrote. "No way." However, he likely is the last one to have heard it. 'It happened this way': he lived nearby to our parents but had not seen them for a few days prior to dad's death.  Now, my brother is "of sound mind" and not given to dramatics nor hyperbole.  As a minister, one Sunday morning he arrived early at the church.  Sitting in the silence and reflecting on recent events, he vowed that he heard the whistle. 

   Are you familiar with the terms 'thin places' and 'thin experiences' ? As much of a rational and cerebral person  I think myself to be, I believe that what my brother experienced was a 'thin experience' defined by one source as the "where the veil between this world and the eternal world is thin. . . where one can walk in two worlds ." (see Eric Weiner, "Where Heaven and Earth Come Closer Together",  The New York Times, March 9, 2012.)  Having had such fleeting experiences, I know these are not the domain of psychosis.  Nor do they belong just for the formally 'religious'.

   But this point is a digression.  "THE Whistle" is deeply ingrained in the memories of his three sons. Is there a  comparable sound stored away in your deepest self ?

     Satchel