The Whistle

I try not to be a pack rat.  Jay would probably disagree with that statement, but I really try to keep only things that really mean something and not every single thing that means anything...if that makes sense.

When my Grandpa K died, I wanted one thing of his to keep:  I wanted his whistle.  I think it was in 1970 that my grandpa had his first cancer.  I say first cancer because he had cancer a few more times after that, which is scary because you would think that once you beat it, you've had enough and shouldn't have to go through it again...Apparently, that's not how it works. 

So the first cancer my grandpa had was cancer of the larynx, or voice box, and he had half of his voice box removed as part of his treatment.  That was nearly 42 years ago, a lot has happened in the medical science field since then, and I'm not sure what they would do now.  But as a result of the removal, from that day forward his voice was a whisper.  I never, ever heard my grandpa's voice in full volume.  Not a super big deal, but kinda strange when I think about it now nonetheless.

I should also add that my grandpa was a smoker/chewer or something.  I don't know what his habits were way back, but I vividly recall the spittoons around the house...and boy, they were fascinating to a young child :)  He may have smoked in his younger years and he may have even smoked up and to the day he had his voice box removed, I have never asked. 

Since my grandpa's voice wasn't loud, he carried around a whistle sometimes.  That way when he was out farming or messing with fence or over at the barn, and got in a pickle he could whistle (oh that rhymes:).  Back at that time, cellular phones were unheard of and the country folk relied on the good 'ole CB as a means of communication.  If in distress, grandpa could blow the whistle into his CB and grandma would know he was needing her. 

I don't really remember hearing him use the whistle.  I talked to him countless times on the CB and the phone, I never had a problem hearing him.  He came through pretty well on the CB despite the scratchiness.  And you know, a man can even "yell" at his grandchildren and get mad at those around him without "raising his voice."  You could tell by the tone of his whisper when he was not pleased with a situation.

I recall some family gathering at my parents house many, many years ago and my little cousin from my mom's side was there.  I would guess he was around three or four years old.  My grandpa leaned down and asked him a question, and my little cousin whispered the answer right back at him.  It was so cute.  He thought my grandpa was whispering to him on purpose.

Funny thing is growing up, I really never gave it much thought at all about my grandpa's voice.  Everyone around me knew why he was like that and no one ever talked about it.  It was just the way it was, you know.  Of course, I wish my kids would've had the opportunity to meet him, but he passed away on July 13, 1996 before our kids were born.  I do bring him up every now and then, referring to him as Grandpa Great (to make the connection to Grandma Great) and have made a point when the subject comes up on smoking to tell my kiddos that Grandpa Great had half of a voice box thanks to cancer.  I'm not sure they really "get it" but it sounds good.

The other night I was in the basement surveying the damage three little boys had caused at Lane's sleepover and I saw a whistle on the floor..."Aaahh," I said, "You cannot play with THAT whistle, that was my grandpa's whistle."  And I ran upstairs to hang it on my shelf.  That whistle sure doesn't look like anything special, but it is to me.