The tin whistle...

Susie and I give Auntie Anna a hard time! Notice that Susie is playing the whistle upside down and I am playing it right.

Did I tell you about how I got the tin whistle? No, I guess not. I guess I should, because I really like to play it.

One year--December of 2004--Daddy joked that he was going to get me a tin whistle for my birthday. It was because I was really into Aubrey Atwater and all that (yeesh, if they have some way of knowing how many links there are to their website, they're probably wondering, what on earth is this blog linking to us so often???). So he joked that he was getting me a tin whistle for my birthday. He didn't. He got me a MUSIC STAND that was much better because I really wanted it. Then he joked about getting me one for Christmas. And he didn't then, either, but there was a real good joke going on about it (tee-hee!). Then he was joking about getting one for Susie's birthday, and I read up on the whistle and changed my mind. I decided I wanted one--not that bad, but enough so that if Susie really got one, I'd try to talk her into sharing. Well, her birthday (on the twelfth day of Christmas) rolls around. No whistle. The next day is Epiphany, and Mum takes down the Christmas tree.

All of a sudden she gave this gasp, and pulled something metal out. I thought that the tree stand had broken and that made me really sad--we'd had that stand for ages. But then I saw that it was tin--or brass, more likely--and there was this green rubber (or plastic)...thing...triangular...mouthpiece...on the end. It was a tin whistle!

I sat down, and by the end of the day I was playing "Kerry Polka" (okay, maybe we're Democrats, maybe we're not, but that has nothing to do with the president's--um--the other contestant for the office of president) and this Renaissance dance and peace has not been in the house since.

A few weeks later, of course, we happened to see Ms. Atwater and she had to hear the whole story (why mum kept telling stories about me I don't know). She asked me if I had noticed that you can make three or four notes with each fingering position depending on how hard you blow. I said yes. Then she added:

"Or you can blow really hard and everybody will hate you!"

Daddy says she's a wise woman. I say that she must have tried it herself. Who knows what? It could be just common knowledge, 'cause the harder you blow...the higher you go!
Saro