I love the original Little Rascals. I particularly love the way Stymie and Buckwheat think. Do you remember the talent show that they worked on? Not the one they took into the radio station, but the one held right there in the little barn. Buckwheat waltzed right onto the stage, with his little belly pooched out and a wide grin on his face. Spanky asked with amazement that he'd even get an answer ... "What YOU gonna do, Buckwheat?" And his answer ... "I dunna istle!" Porky proceeded to play a record of a great whistler performing an amazing piece and Buckwheat pretended it was him ... until the record skipped and the gig was up.

I don't 'istle very well either. But my Daddy did. I've been working on recording moments and stories from my life and recovered this jewel the other night. My dad had one particular whistle noise that he did with his lips AND cheek that sounded just like a bird (or some other flying creature). He could get anyone's attention with that 'istle. And, one day (much to my mother's disapproval) he really got someone.

Camping was not just back to nature for us, it was second nature. And, Blanchard Springs, AR was a favorite place. But, our parents were all about learning when you could, too, so that meant attending naturalists programs, looking at every little thing you saw along a hike, etc. At Blanchard Springs, a trip through the caverns was a must no matter how many times you'd heard the spiel about stalactites and stalagmites. One weekend, when I was in mid-elementary school, we crammed into the cave with a million other people to hear Ranger Rick talk about the wonder of nature there ... which included the bats. And, they were noisy that day! Seeing an opportunity that he just could not let pass by, Daddy leaned forward ever so slightly toward Mrs. Bouffant, who'd made it into the cave just in front of us with her gaggle of children. He did that funny whistle, as if he were a bat swooping down to speak just to that sweet lady, right in her left ear. And, amid the shrieks and squeals, that lady beat her big hair into a big flat blanket that covered her forehead and shoulders. (And, Mom would've beaten Daddy, too, if everybody wasn't already looking in that general direction!)

I have no idea why I've shared this with anybody. But, the story is a treasure to me for several reasons. It reminds me of my Dad's great sense of humor that he willingly shared with everybody - friend, family, stranger alike. It also reminds me that there are plenty of things to be aware of in the dark cave moments of our lives, both expected and unexpected. I'm also inclined to think that learning to expect the unexpected diminishes the fear of it all without robbing it of the mystery. The next time I find myself in a dark cave moment, I'll remember that though it is quite possible that a bat - or some other varmint - would love to find a welcome home or at least a momentary perch somewhere one my perch, it is also quite possible that a really good 'istler is a companion on the journey and has a gift to offer that makes the place not so dark ... tee hee.