whistler boy...

This photo was taken from the car in passing...and it came with a nice surprise. 

Because:

At first, in the tiny camera lens, the lava rock landscape, donkey, jacket, everything... was gray.  Later however, as I down-loaded the photo, I discovered... a young boy whistling.

Really.  Whistling on a hot dusty day while on his way to get water.

I remember my father whistling.  My sister, just younger than me, whistles. My sweet husband whistles, and this young water boy whistles.  A whistler is a special person...one who carries a tune at all times.  Regardless of circumstance, weather or reason, a whistler has music going on in the background of his life.  He uplifts... and is uplifted by little happy strains.  Do sad or cynical people whistle?  I think not. This special music must come from smiles drawn into an accoustic circle.

I had to find out about this young  boy.  Which I did...a few weeks later.  I asked some of the kids (in a branch in the small town by where this photo was taken), if they might know the boy beneath the cerelean sky in my photo. Yup!  He is 11 and he whistles.  He is optimistic. He likes school.  He is nice to everybody.  They volunteered all of that and they told me his name.

There are so many wonderful, positive, happy, grateful people in this world, even on the hot days, even while hauling water.

I cannot whistle...but close to 9 years ago, my next-field-neighbor in Kooskia (she was very old and feeble now, but as a young medicene woman years before, was often called upon to give names to the children from her tribe).  On our last visit...she said she had been thinking about a name for me.   This beautiful weather lined Nez Pierce woman held my hand; her slow words reflecting her old age and her thoughtfulness.  "White Swan" was the name she had chosen. "Tundra swan only more beautiful" she spoke softly as I sat on her bedside.

 I looked up 'Tundra Swan'...they used to be called:  The Whistler Swan.

I like that.