Chapter 1: Whistling Memories

Writer James Knight once shared an amusing anecdote: “At Bogart’s funeral, Lauren placed a whistle in his casket so he could whistle to her from the other side!” This is a nod to their iconic line in the classic film, To Have and Have Not: “You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and… blow.”

While I can only manage a whistle by inhaling, as Patrick Metzger noted, I've come to accept my unique style. My father was a traditional "suck-in-blow-out" whistler and seemed perfectly fine with it. It’s a question I wish I had asked him: how he felt about his own whistling technique.

I doubt my dad considered whistling a matter of privilege or lack thereof. He probably would have responded, “That’s an odd question, Amy.”

In my opinion, those who inhale-exhale while whistling seem less arrogant than the four-fingered whistlers. The latter remind me of wolves howling at the moon—more like a summons to the cosmos: “Hey moon! 71st universe. Stat. Avoid the Milky Way; it’s always jammed at this hour.”

The four-fingered whistlers exude a certain superiority, producing melodic sounds that resonate while our own mouths remain motionless, like silent voids. Should these skilled whistlers be in charge of the universe? Are they already? Honestly, I have not done any research to find out.

Another writer mentioned her “anemic whistle,” which led me to think of those breathing tests where a doctor asks, “How far can you push that tiny clear ball?” That’s it? Oy, give it another shot!

What kind of cosmic balance does a deity maintain by endowing some with impressive whistles, others with faint ones, and some with no whistle at all? Is it a Goldilocks scenario?

Non-whistlers belong to a different category. They are the gentle poets, bass players, and those who treat strangers to lunch without ever revealing a word. Perhaps I'm overanalyzing, or maybe their tongues have unique shapes that prevent them from whistling.

Interestingly, non-whistlers often possess an impressive ability to roll their tongues. This is a theory I’ve concocted based on a personal encounter. At a swim meet, I met a guy who couldn’t whistle but was eager to show off his rolled tongue, reminiscent of those alluring barflies who can tie a maraschino cherry’s stem into a knot.

Everyone around this non-whistling individual showcased their unique whistling techniques, as if participating in a musical parade. I felt almost divine, or like a woman surrounded by very bored spectators in the bleachers.

This non-whistler had been married four times and bore a shy smile that bordered on an attentive demeanor, making one understand why he had so many wives. His focus on my every word was almost hypnotic, as if he mirrored my speech patterns. I can only imagine his marriages ended when that intense attention waned, likely shocking the women drawn to that initial charm.

“I can’t whistle,” he confessed.

“Really?” I replied, taken aback.

For some reason, I always assume people jest when they claim they can’t do something. “You can’t jump rope? Swim? Read French braille?” I never believe it; I always expect a punchline.

When this non-whistler stated he couldn’t whistle amidst a chorus of whistlers, I thought of that familiar line—“don’t worry, it can happen to anyone.” Yet, whistling isn’t akin to other skills tied to mood or age; it's a matter of anatomy—something about one’s mouth, teeth, or tongue that might simply be incapable of producing that sound.

I’ve yet to meet anyone who learned to whistle later in life, although I’ve never asked. On the flip side, I know people who managed to overcome other challenges later, but that’s probably a fib.

What truly matters is that Lauren Bacall placed a whistle in Humphrey Bogart's coffin. That’s the takeaway.

Thanks to BOF and Betsy Denson for their invaluable editing support.

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Chapter 2: The Whistling Experience

In this charming video, Hozier presents a traditional a cappella version of “The Humours of Whiskey,” showcasing the lighthearted nature of whistling and its cultural significance.

This rendition by Hozier features lyrics alongside the classic a cappella performance of “The Humours of Whiskey,” highlighting the joy and artistry of whistling in music.