It was just a little silver whistle attached to a silver chain. The tiny whistle was only about an inch long and was engraved with a swirly design.
Daddy's father worked for the United Fruit Company in Honduras during my father's young years. They came there from Nashua, New Hampshire. When Daddy and his brother became of age in the 1930s they also were employed by the United Fruit Company. Daddy managed a banana plantation and Uncle K was an accountant.
The United Fruit Company decided to hire a person from the states to come to Honduras to teach the children of their employees. My great-aunt Ruth, who was then the principal of the Darlington Academy, had been asked if she knew of anyone who would like the position. My mother had just graduated from Millersville Teacher's College. Of course, she had no intention of moving so far away and only filled out the application to please her aunt. She had no inkling that her aunt could choose the person to fill the job. So you can see where this is going. Mama soon found herself on a huge boat owned by the United Fruit Company, the Musa, and on her way to a teaching position in a faraway country.
When it came time for her to arrive, Daddy, being the youngest of the appropriate employees to do such a job, was selected to greet the lady and bring her back to the compound. Of course, the other young men teased and chortled at Don "getting stuck" with the pre-conceived notion of a spinsterly schoolteacher. Imagine their surprise when he returned with my pretty mother. Served them all right!
Needless to say, Don began to date the pretty schoolteacher, often bringing her orchids, which grew wild, and presenting them with a flourish. Daddy had a bit of the dramatic flair. Then one day, after proclaiming his love, he presented her with the little silver whistle. And he said, "If you ever need me, just whistle and I'll be there."
Those words must have stolen my mother's heart because soon after, they married and returned to the States. Of course, I, and my siblings, heard the story at one time or another, but gave little thought to it as the years sped by. When my mother passed away, I had the awful task of going through her things. Her wallet was the last and something I hadn't touched for several months. In the coin pocket I found that little silver whistle.
Mama was then 91 and she had carried that token of my father's love all those years. Obviously, she'd moved it from wallet to wallet as a new one was needed, through all the moves they made from Maryland to South Carolina to New Hampshire and back to Maryland again, through the war when Daddy was away, through more years of college courses, and a horrendous house fire. Wherever she was, that little whistle was with her.
My heart fluttered as I recalled the story and a great sense of sadness overwhelmed me, as I held it nestled in the palm of my hand. Holding that love in her heart, the pretty schoolteacher had steadfastly held on to that little token of her "Banana Cowboy's" love – even after he had been gone for many, many years.
So I guess it wasn't just a little silver whistle. It embodied so much more.