At least according to my dad. This is so random, but I just had to write about it. I just talked to my mom on the phone, and while we were talking, there were moments I had a hard time hearing her because my dad was in the background whistling SO LOUD. It made me smile, because that's what Saturdays have always sounded like at our house. My dad (and therefore ALL of us) would be cleaning (floors, bathrooms, windows, baseboards, doors, etc, etc). We'd grumble, but we would do it. My dad, however, seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. He'd be whistling like a maniac, scrubbing anything he could get his hands on. This morning he wasn't cleaning, but fixing the refrigerator. And whistling like a maniac.
I love our whistling family. My granddad is the same way, and I think most of us kids inherited the whistling trait. I used to love hearing my granddad whistle in the kitchen at Angelo's. You could hear him from anywhere. And my dad's dad, Opa, had a specific whistling call, which is still being used to this day by my dad, my uncles, and now by Corey to summon his children. It sounds demeaning, but we love it. As a matter of fact, I was in the grocery store two days ago, and heard that very whistle. (If I can get my dad to make an audio file of it, I'll post it later). My heart jumped, because I thought my parents were in Texas to surprise me! I realized it wasn't them, but it made me smile anyway.
Anyway, back to cleaning. And whistling.
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