The Whistle--Chapter 1 Reflection

I guess part of my motivation for this response stems from the fact that my mother’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks, so my mind is going through all the different things she does within my family to figure out how to help celebrate. I automatically thought about this whistle she does with every member of our family, the ones who live together that is. It’s this high pitched whistle she makes by putting her thumb and her middle finger in her mouth, and I know other people do it too, but I swear hers sounds different somehow. The best way to describe its purpose is to explain a good situation it would be used in. When my brothers and sister and I were younger, and playing whatever sport was in season, my mom would use “the whistle” to let us know she was around. I would be up to bat in a softball game and hear all the whistles coming from parents, and then hear that one. I knew mom was there watching. It also has uses for safety sometimes, like when we were in big crowds during 4th of July parades. I remember going to “explore” and when I heard that sound it meant I was supposed to go back to its source because she wanted us to stay close. Of course there were times that it was used to get some sanity back into our house, six people (four young children) typically makes for a lot of chaos and noise. All the kids would be screaming or “playing” loudly, and all the sudden we’d hear it and know it was time to chill out. The funny thing about it is that we all know that specific sound by heart and it provides some sort of comfort to everyone, even my dad. This summer we went to California to visit my older brother, and we were at this hippie festival and my dad got lost. Well, mom did the whistle and dad managed to find his way back to the group. I think its kind of cool that my family has some of its own folklore, something that my mom spread around to us, that we all understand together. I like that it is not something within society’s culture that my family is part of, but something that is part of my family’s culture on its own. This blog entry is my response to the Chapter One Reflection Question.