Perspective


I would like to tell you a true story about perspective. From the perspective of an old, married woman. :-)

My sweet hubs is a whistler. As in, All. The. Time. He whistles in the morning and he whistles in the evening. He whistles happy and grumpy and when he is in no particular mood at all. He has been a whistler for as long as I have known him.

About 28 years ago, the whistling was getting on my nerves. I would be talking on the phone, or watching TV (we had TV, once) and the whistling was distracting annoying. One afternoon, I was listening to the late Paul Harvey telling "the rest of the story". Sweet Hubs walked in, whistling, and I never got to hear the rest of the story!

Then one day at work, I sat down in the break room to eat my lunch and read the paper. There was a letter to Dear Abby that was commenting on a previous letter from a lady who was married to a man who hummed all the time and it was driving her batty. Abby had advised that letter writer to talk candidly with her husband about the humming. This person was writing to tell Abby that she, too, had been married to a humming husband. She lost him suddenly and wrote to say to the original poster, don't sweat the humming. It isn't worth worrying about, and be glad you are both alive, he to hum and you to hear it.

The proverbial light bulb came on. That was the last day that Sweet Hubs whistling got under my skin.

Instead, I've been playing my own private game of "Name That Tune" for 28 years. I'm getting pretty good at it.