GOODBYE TO THE AGE OF WHISTLING.

Seventeen years after the death of my father, I still have not met anybody that could have matched, or beat, him at whistling. I still have not met another person who could work their jaw muscles and other bucco-labial organs to produce that deep and somber moan of the accordion; that pitched cry of the violin; that bark of the trumpet or that wail of the electric guitar.
Continue reading “GOODBYE TO THE AGE OF WHISTLING.”