By
C. Neuroticus Absolutus
My oldest and dearest friend
used to tell acquaintances that he “showered with Barbra Streisand
every morning,” adding a chuckle and a mischievous smile that
underscored his charming character.
Upon retirement, I took up
pen and joined myriad writers working on the Great American Novel.
Under merciless critique, I endeavor to choose appropriate verbs and
nouns to best described the object, emotions and actions of my
protagonist and antagonist and to do so with an economy of words. In
addition, my mentors incessantly warp my mind with the latest
affectation of the pundits of the trade: “Don't tell, show.”
These things merged in my
mind this year as I listened to Streisand rip through her hectic
version of Jingle Bells, waiting
for, begging for her to take a breath. The feverish musical
arrangement beautifully reinforces the tone of the lyric, especially
the verse, which begins with, “Dashing through the snow...”
You see?
There it is! A single word: Dashing! I began to wonder if composer
James Lord Pierpont realized in 1857, when he wrote the song, how
precisely he captured the substance of the scene, the actions and
emotions in that single word. I considered possible alternatives.
Running through the snow? Sliding? Flying? Gliding? Racing?
Sprinting? Crashing? No, those wouldn’t do. Dashing, the first word
of the phrase, captures the essence of the entire song.
Dashing
expresses exhilaration. Exuberance. It illustrates a youthful,
reckless regard for life and limb. And fun. “Oh, what fun it is to
ride. . .”
I’ve heard Jingle Bells
hundreds of times, the first time over seventy years ago as a child
in our living room, my father playing the piano, my mother singing
along. But each Christmas season, it is always my old friend's remark
that comes to mind each time I hear Barbra sing Jingle Bells.
I remember his chuckle, the impish glint in his eye and the upturned
corner of his mouth as he says, “I shower with Barbra Streisand
every morning.”
