The Whistler

The Whistler                             5-28-2012

By John W. Vander Velden

Many years ago, in the time before personal music players or even transistor radios, there was a man.   Jacob carried his own music; he was a whistler, and often notes could be heard loud and clear.  Times mending fence or weeding his crops, for the man worked alone, creating music most beautiful.  Seldom did familiar songs, a hymn perhaps, come from those well trained lips for Jacob’s music flowed from some place deep within. Melodies formed at the moment, tunes reflecting the current mood.  Often the notes short, bouncy, lively came to my ears, while other times slow deep tones flowed on the breeze.  In the distance one would know whether Jacob might be happy or sad.  How things have changed!  Does no one yet make music of their own?  Have we become so tied to “canned” tunes we have lost the desire…the need?  Perhaps we doubt our capabilities, concerned our talent so far from perfect it has no value.  I miss the days when Jacob would fetch his cows… I miss the whistler.

(176 Words)