When I was a kid, one of the jobs I considered was to be the official whistler for the Andy Griffith Show. 

Really.

And I didn't enjoy the show, but the idea of folks looking out for you and that siren song-well, it got my attention.

Frankly, I was more of a Gilligan's Island and Twilight Zone kind of girl...when we were stateside and had American television. Fortunately, the Germans liked old movies and I was able to occasionally see Danny Kaye movies in black and white, but that's another story. How they learned to love the Hoff, I just can't explain that one.

At Sunset Zoo, I could guess where our Director was on grounds by his distinctive whistle. Later, I was told that folks could tell where I was, by my whistle, Oo De Lally or the song the rooster narrator plays in Disney's Robin Hood cartoon. Maybe the snow leopards could tell us apart by our songs. 

Just like the grranimals, we have our significant sounds; our species calls to one another. We have whistles to call the cows, the kids, and the team back to the dugout. 

Melody, wind whistling through prairie grasses, rally songs to get us moving: we are so fortunate to have sound in life.

Music is important; it helps us locate one another in the cacophony of living.

Lately, this soundtrack of home (or playlist for you whippersnappers) has shifted a bit. 

This morning, I unintentionally heard something from American Idol (I don't have a T.V. so am clueless about these things) because I could not believe this guy's name is Phillip Phillips. It is and he has some pipes. Listen to his Home.

Mumford and Sons, Seryn, and the Avett Brothers have been playing steadily in the background these last several months.

I have to thank my friend, Rhonda, for reminding me so long ago that the best music is often found - not on the radio - but at Auntie Mae's and places beyond the fan base of frenzied wannabees.

Anyhoo, home and music have been intermingling in my thoughts these days. I cannot separate the two. 

And it makes me wonder: What's on your playlist?