My dad loved to whistle. He whistled all the time. The harder he concentrated on something, the more he whistled. It was never a recognizable song, just melodic tunes. That was the extent of his musical ability, except that he loved to hear me play.
He was from a large family, and when his dad died, my dad had to quite school after 10th grade and support the family. He met my mother while working on a dairy farm in Oklahoma.
He joined the Marines at the outset of WWII, and was one of the first to hit the beach at Guadalcanal and several other islands in the Pacific.
He spent most of his working life after the war building airplanes for McDonald/Douglas. He retired from there in the late 70's and died of lung cancer in 1987. All the years of working in asbestos, plus being a life-long smoker caught up with him. He was quite intelligent and, as far as I know, never had an enemy.
I miss him.
DonM