Why I love Matt Beachboard

Yesterday I could not whistle for a while. That is, for a time I lost the ability to whistle no matter how I tried. The sound would not come. So I focused harder, then stopped and relaxed, eased up on the gas. Still nothing. I waited a minute then attempted to sneak up on whatever was thrusting silence. Now I am not an accomplished whistler by any means, despite the title. The Teriffic Whistler name(consciously mis-spelled, I thought it clever at the time) comes from The Catcher in the Rye. Say what you will about the fit for middle school brochure on teen alienation and the F word, its an old favorite. There is a part in which he is talking about one of his schoolmates that is a bore, a jock, I guess. However, this kid, Harris Macklin, happens to be a phenomenal whistler. Acrobatic yet tender, mastering all music genres. But this kid only performed when he thought no one was listening, much how I prefer to work. Holden went on to say that maybe everyone, despite being painfully irritating in person is, behind closed doors, a secretly terrific whistler. Much how I would like people to think of me. “Man, this guy better be good at something.” they think as I talk aimlessly at them. I demonstrated for Christine my lack of ability, she laughed, but at this point I was beginning to be overcome by actual medical concern. A checklist of what I had eaten that day or the night before. I had taken some ibuprofen that morning. Was I dehydrated? Over-hydrated? Is this the first, normally neglected, sign of exhaustion? I told Matt and he, being him, heard me but did not actually listen to what I was saying. He began to teach me, step by step, how one whistles. “Yes....I know...yeah,” I tried to interject but, bless his heart, the man does love the sound of his own voice. I did not forget how to whistle. I did not leave that particular tool at home that day. It felt as though one of the local Wiccans just got Baby's First Spell book. “Thou shall not create tone with air through thine lips, pursed.” An hour later it was back without a note from the nurse. No explanation. Delightfully out of key once again. At full rich titanium silver quality. Ahh, I was so excited I showed Matt, “Your mouth is more scruntched up than it was before.” Yes, Matt. You are right.