The fence was confused about whether it was supposed to keep things in or keep things out.

“You love that song, don’t you?”

“What, the one I’m whistling now?”
“The one and only song you whistle.”
“Don’t fence me in?”
 “Yup and I bet you don’t even know who wrote it.”
“Irving Berlin wasn’t it?”
“See, what did I tell you. No, it was Cole Porter, and who sang it and made it popular?”
“That one I know. It was Frank Sinatra.”
“John, before I correct you yet again, why is it you whistle the song?”
“Well, I would sing it but I don’t know the words. It’s just a very pretty tune.”
“And very old. I think it was composed back in the 1930s.”
“Wow! I didn’t realise it was that old.”
“Yup. Can you believe it, there’s something in the world that’s older than you.”
“Ha, ha, you’re older than me.”
“See, what did I tell you, you don’t know that I’m younger than you.”
“If you are, then it’s only by a matter of months.”
“John,” David seemed amused by his friend’s inability to remember things. “How long have we known each other?”
“Oh, about 15 years or so.”
“Try 20.”
“Wow, that long?”
“Yup and I’m only a few days younger than you. Your birthday is on the 27th of July, and mine is on the 31st of July.”
“Weren’t you and I born in the same hospital?”
“Same name, different country.”
“Wow! I must be getting old if I can’t remember stuff like that.”
“It’s not that your mind is pickled, John, it’s just that you have so much going on in your life that I’m amazed you can remember your wife’s name.”
“Betty,” interrupted John.

David laughed. “I’d be scared if you really did forget her name so would Jane.”

“Thank you.”
“Ok, now that we have that settled, by the way you haven’t touched your pastrami sandwich. Didn’t you like it?”
“No, no, I love the pastrami sandwiches here, this is the best deli in the world. Or at least the world as we perceive it. No, it’s just that you’ve got me thinking about the song I whistle all the time. I don’t really remember how it all started, but you were going to tell me who made it popular, if it wasn’t Frank Sinatra.”
“Nope, Bing Crosby.”
“That’s right! You’re absolutely right. Now I remember. How could I forget something like that? And didn’t he sing it with the Anderson sisters?”
“Wonderful!” replied David putting his pastrami sandwich down and taking a drink of his root beer. “I’m glad your memory isn’t pickled after all. But have you ever thought about this. Why do they erect fences? Do they erect them to keep things out or erect them to keep things in?”
John had taken a bite of his sandwich and stopped for a second. “You know, that’s a really good question. I wonder if in some cases it can be to keep things in such as dogs who might run of and keep things out like robbers. But can’t one fence do both things?”
“I guess, but that’s something I’ve never thought about. I wonder if a fence knows the answer to that.”
“That’s silly. Fences can’t talk.”
“A real fence can you know.”
“What do you mean by that? A real fence.”
“Well, a fence is also a man who takes in stolen goods and sells them.”
“John, you’re actually brilliant. Maybe that’s what Bing Crosby was singing about, a fence, a dealer in stolen goods.”
“Nah and I thought you were bright.” And with that John began to sing the words.

“I thought you didn’t know them. I don’t you’ve done something to my brain. It’s beginning to work again. Maybe I need to go back to the old John, at least he wouldn’t have sung the song. You have an awful voice. If you had a fence around your property to keep your dog in and sung like that, it would jump the fence and bolt. You have a terrible voice.”
They heard someone in the booth next to them clap their hands. An elderly man peered around his seat and grinned at them. “That has to be the worst voice I’ve ever heard and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones in my life. And the song your whistling, have you ever heard Bing Crosby whistle it?” John shook his head but decided it would be a good time to go back and attack his pastrami sandwich on rye with mustard.

“Why?” David asked, “is his whistling that bad?”
“Oh no,” the old man replied, “his whistling is the absolute best. Get onto YouTube and listen to it and by the way, it’s the Andrew Sisters not the Anderson Sisters,” and with that, the old man and his companion slid off their seats and waved goodbye.

“Friends of yours?” asked David.

“Not mine,” replied John, “how’s your sandwich?”