What happened to the noon whistle?”someone asked the other day. The absence of that high-pitched shriek reminded me of my own reliance on the bells of St. James as a time management device. The bells used to be the only other community time-marker until the clock on the courthouse lawn was erected
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Well, I heard the noon whistle so it must be just after 12 o’clock.”
“Any idea what time it is getting to be?”
“No idea, but the noon whistle didn’t go off yet, so it must be almost noon.”
There was a time in our community when the noon whistle let the time-challenged among us know that it was time for lunch. Never a wearer of timepieces (or cell phone), it provided an easy fix. For some reason, there are other folks out there who miss the noon whistle as well. Most likely the folks who feel this absence are not the community members who try to conduct business within range of the eardrum-bursting blast of the whistle, nor the residence owners who don’t make phone calls or have conversations. It was just one of those things that told people it was still the same old small town they remembered.
It is funny how we all get used to the sounds around us and arrange our daily schedules around them. Much like the pestering of a dog to be let outside, the sound of the noon whistle was natural and normal. Whenever I consider calling my brother who lives next to railroad tracks, I try to remember what time the freight train passes by his house each day. It is impossible to have a conversation, so it would be a great way to get rid of phone soliciters. After 300 years of living in the same house, he is sure he will miss that predictable sound when he moves.
The things that are on the list of “whatever happened to?” disappear quietly before someone notices their absence. Some of them made life a little more predictable, while others added a little comfort. All of them are remembered with nostalgia.