Have you noticed people don’t whistle much anymore?

I can remember when nearly everyone whistled. My grandmother was perhaps the first person I ever heard do it. She whistled a lot, mainly old hymns of the church, like “In the Sweet By and By,” “Amazing Grace,” and “Bringing in the Sheaves.”
She did it mainly in the kitchen while she was washing dishes or while dusting or sweeping the house. But, of course, she might be heard whistling most anywhere.
Other important people in my life have been whistlers, too. My Uncle Harry whistled often. He was usually a happy man who seemed to love life. He and Aunt Mae and their three boys came to see us nearly every Sunday.
Harry would occasionally take us to get ice cream or a piece of candy. Lots of times while riding in the car he’d whistle. Come to think of it, I had another uncle who whistled quite a bit. That was Uncle Dick.
I got to thinking about this subject one afternoon when my wife, just out of the blue, said, “Why is it people don’t whistle much anymore?”
I pondered that question a few moments and had to reach the conclusion that she was right. She talked about her brother-in-law who used to whistle all the time. And her dad whistled nearly every day. Judy said her little niece would get excited in the afternoons when she’d hear him coming down the street. He’d always be whistling a tune.
So I’ll have to try to figure it out. Why don’t we hear large numbers of people whistling anymore?
Whistling used to be a kind of art. Some people had mastered it. They could whistle almost any tune they’d heard. Occasionally you’d hear someone who could imitate birds, even exotic ones, or whistle parts of famous operas.
Other people became proficient in a wide range of tones and could astound listeners with vibrating sounds and various trills. It was remarkable.
Are people generally not as happy anymore? Could that be it? Are we a more anxious people, caught up in fears and apprehensions about the vicissitudes of life in an uncertain world?
That could be at least part of it. We know what is going on simultaneously in places as far apart as Iraq, China, Somalia and South Africa. And so much of the news isn’t good. We live with tragedy all about us.
As I think about this phenomenon now—of so little whistling—I wonder if we haven’t, as a people, become used to listening to and watching others perform. We don’t have to entertain ourselves like we once did. We just turn on the TV, radio or compact disc player and take in the sights and sounds.
We can get all wrapped up in those media and forget the reality around us. And in many ways that is sad.
My wife suggested that the practice of whistling diminished about the same time singing around the piano did. We used to sing and make harmony in the car on long distance trips. Other families we knew of shared similar experiences.
Then came the eight-track recorders and other sound equipment. Kids would often put on ear phones and tune everyone out. That too is sad for me to consider.
Actually I used to whistle a lot. Sometimes I would make my children laugh when I whistled my tunes. Now I can’t even whistle to myself when I feel like it.
Recently I have found myself trying to do it again. But then I discovered that since I have dentures now in the top of my mouth, I can no longer make the whistling sounds I was once rather proud of. And that bothers me because I have lost a way to express God-given joy.
So I regret that most people in my life seem to have lost the art of whistling. Knowing myself, I will continue to ponder the source and meaning of this mystery.