I have always followed this thread, and always found that it makes me sad.

My Dad was always afraid to really sing, though he loves music, especially old-time country, old-time blue grass (Ralph Stanley, but not New Grass) and folk music. All I have ever heard him sing are little snippets, usually along with a song on the radio or the record/cd player.   It was apparent from that little bit that he had within him a fine voice.    He is a grand whistler, but has always been afraid to cut loose with that also. Instead, he always encouraged us to sing, and to this day nothing gives him greater pleasure than when my remaining sister and I are home, Annie breaks out the guitar or the fiddle, and we sit down and sing some duets for him.

HIs own father was fine singer and whistler, ( apparently was also a fine banjo and fiddle player until he got saved in a church that only found a capella music acceptable) but only contenanced singing to the glory of his United Baptist concept of God. My earliest memories of live music are of my grandfather singing and whistling hymns as he went about the house, his orchard and his garden. he was a wonderful grandfather. But in his own kids, he managed to squelch any impetus to find their own voice.