Papa's Whistle


This is Papa, with the new phone I am able to take a photograph oh photograph, a wonderful thing this new technology. So, I am republishing this post I published in June of 2015 with another photograph. Here's my Papa with my hand on his shoulder taken in1982.


My father was a great storyteller, a man so full of joy, being in his presence always call up one’s innate joy. He would act out the parts of the stories he told and roar with laughter when he sensed there was something funny in one of his characters.  His Laughter was so loud you could hear it from miles away. He would take me with him to Mr. Winny’s shoemaker’s shop where all his friends gathered in the cooling evening after the day's hard work. Papa held center stage. All the men had stories to tell, but none of them equaled Papa’s stories, so his would be the last before everyone left for their respective homes and their cooling dinners. Papa would then say to me, “come Puss you have to go home.” The warmth of those times in the shoemaker’s shop sustains me even now when I reach for my own joy.

Papa loved to tell the story of the time he met Errol Flynn, the famous movie actor and how his life could have changed. Mr. Flynn who had a home in Port Antonio was having a swimming pool built. Don’t know why as the beach and sea was almost on his doorstep. Papa was among the laborers digging the hole to make the swimming pool. The next best thing my father did, besides telling stories. was whistle. He had a beautiful trilling whistle that could make birds listen to and learn from it. He was whistling that day while digging and the actor himself heard him. Needless to say, the actor was moved and wanted to know who was issuing such wonderful and amazing sounds from his lips. The foreman told the actor that it was my father and the actor asked to meet him.

When Papa went up the house he was greeted as a celebrity by the actor. Naturally, in those days one had to be respectful to one’s employer. Mr. Flynn told Papa how truly exceptional his whistling was and how much he enjoyed hearing him make music with his lips. My father was grateful for the compliment. But it did not end there. Mr. Flynn told Papa he was working on a new movie, and he wanted Papa to whistle in the background somehow. Papa started making plans in his mind to go to America which was where Mr. Flynn was making his movie. Papa knew his life would change, after he went to America. It did not happen however as Mr. Flynn died shortly thereafter and Papa had to wait several decades for me to make it to America before he had his opportunity to see that country. Pity, I may have been from Hollywood with a different life experience had Mr. Flynn lived.

Comments

Alice said…
What a lovely story and memory of your father. I am so happy I've found your blog and to hear you are feeling a bit stronger each day, Cecilia.
Hazel said…
Cecilia thank you for accepting my Facebook request. Your writing is inspired and inspiring. Just what I need now as I face my own challenges. I look forward to reading more of your thoughts, thank you sister! Hope you are well.
Anonymous said…
I love your stories and you❤️
Anonymous said…
What a warm and amazing story. I loved reading this, my friend. We share ‘whistling father’s’ and reading this brought beautiful childhood memories of hearing my father whistle.
Love your story and the power of memories!❣️
Anonymous said…
I do love a sweet whistle tune Cecilia. How wonderful to have these great memories of your father and his storytelling.
Anonymous said…
You have inherited his storytelling ability for sure! Memories told with love. Thank you.

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