Ah, the Whistler

Walking into the grocery and trying to keep the weight of the day from crushing my generally optimistic spirit, I heard myself whistling. It was a strange sensation since I knew I was not whistling. Yet, it is true, that I am a whistler in general. With a song in my head most of the time, I often whistle or sing wherever I am. An annoying habit to some, pleasant to others, my public expression of music in my head is a normal part of everyday existence. Sometimes Brahms or Mozart, other times rock or pop, folk songs, Christian music, film music, or, most likely, my own made-up composition, I have a high regard for music in its totality and enjoy expressing music at every opportunity.

But this particular evening, I had no music in my head. Bad day all around. Lots of stress, contention, unrest, scowls, anger, needs not met, and selfishness. A day that needed to be over. So I walked into the grocery to buy some bagels and sugar free ice cream bars, and heard a whistler. This time it was not I who was whistling. Near the produce section stood an older gentleman in a white, rumpled shirt and work pants studying the apples and oranges. Perhaps he was a little intoxicated or maybe mentally disturbed or perhaps drunk on the joys of life or maybe masking his emotional pain by whistling. Whatever the reason, his whistle was loud, tuneless, happy, and a little annoying. Everyone in the store avoided the gentleman and seemed uncomfortable with his ebullience.

I, however, partly due to curiosity, partly out of a lack of fear, and partly because I saw myself in thirty years, headed toward the man. As I neared him, I smiled my charming grin and said hello. He stopped whistling, stared at me, and said, "Blessings to you sir!" He then turned away and said something about blessings over and over. He was pleasant, confused, pixillated, joyful, and innocent. His whistle resumed and I felt my stress dissipate. His innocence and joy was infectious and despite his odd behavior, I felt drawn in to his happy world.

He may have been a little unbalanced but his whistle balanced me. Maybe we can find truth, joy, and center in those who are not centered. Perhaps it is the unusual that can fix the broken and perhaps our complex world could use a moment of innocent expression of happiness.