I got my first full-time job about six months after I graduated from high school.
I started to work the very week I turned 18 years old. That was also the week I developed an abscessed tooth. I had moved out of the apartment I shared with my mother and was living in an apartment of my own 40 miles away. I had no car, so I had to find a new dentist within walking distance of my apartment. And I did. And he pulled my tooth.
Long story short, he became my regular dentist. In fact, I called his office years later, on my birthday and wished him a happy anniversary for being my dentist for 50 years. But, that’s another story.
So, after my original dental exam, it was discovered that I had 38 cavities in my teeth that would require extensive care. I had to have my four supper incisors removed and get a partial denture.
The denture fit fine, with only one exception—I could no longer whistle. I was always a whistler, even though my mother discouraged it. She said, “A whistling maid and a crowing hen always come to some bad end.” She said girls weren’t supposed to whistle.
I didn’t believe her old wives’ tales. I liked to whistle and nothing ever happened to me that wouldn’t have happened anyway. I whistled while I worked. I whistled while I walked. I whistled standing up and I whistled sitting down. Not all of the time—just when the spirit moved me.
So, when I discovered I could no longer whistle, I was heartbroken. Apparently, the structure of my mouth had changed and prevented the sounds from coming out as desired. Through the years, I have puckered up and blown, in hopes that my ability had returned, but to no avail.
Last Monday I had to have a molar removed. It was a killer operation. It took forever and had to be removed in three pieces. To say it was painful would be an understatement.
Nevertheless, I woke up the next morning, New Year’s Eve, with a song in my heart. The song was “Sentimental Journey.” And then I began to whistle! I whistled the whole song! I was ecstatic! I whistled all morning. I whistled every song I could think of. Sweetheart got tired of hearing me whistle.
I now whistle every chance.I get—just to see if I can still do it. And I can!
You know something? It’s hard to be sad when you’re whistling. I always feel cheerful when I do. As happy and content as I was all of those whistle-less years, my heart overflows when I can swish out a song. If you can whistle, I suggest you do--every chance you get. It may make you happy, too.
What a way to start the new year!
Dorothy is the author of two books—“Miles and Miracles” and “Getting It All Together “. You can purchase a book or send a comment by emailing her at dorothybutzknight@gmail.com
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