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In Vaudeville days of the late 1800s and the 1930s, music and steps were in a constant state of evolution as acts traveled the country. Amid all the change and transience, actors used time steps to communicate tempos to band leaders they had only just met.
In my third year as a single Mrs. Claus without a regular Santa, I have tried to get everything “right,” by attending Santa Claus school and paying for webinars produced by seasoned Kringles. With my dancer’s desire to be perfect and obedient, I took vigorous notes about how I should have a “backstory” about how I met my Santa (of the moment). We should call each other on the phone and talk about our favorite vacation spots or our courtship.
Over the weekend, I met “my Santa” for the evening in a freezing trailer behind a circus tent in an upstate New York winter wonderland. We shared this trailer with a clown, three dogs, various novelty acts, and the event’s manager. I had no idea what was expected to me—I had taken the job via text—so soon after my arrival by train, I wandered into the Santa Experience tent and learned I would be working near the photo Santa. This isn’t a criticism of the venue but a reality of being a performer. We use a lot of brains to navigate new situations.
With barely a chance to exchange basic pleasantries, my temporary hubby and I dug in. He sat in the big chair. I assumed the role of line manager, chatting with nervous kids and taking photos of families with Santa. Not a single child asked how I met Santa or how many elves we had together. And no one seemed to care for such a short meeting with St. Nick.
During a rare moment alone with no guests, Santa stood up and did a soft shoe essence, one type of time steps from the Vaudeville era. (Tap purists may argue that soft shoe dances were performed with leather soles instead of metal taps and therefore not capable of being time steps. Yet this syncopated combination is commonly considered a time step.) I joined getting a sense of how my partner moved and breathed. Soon the elves in the tent were laughing, and parents began taking videos of us as they headed into the tent. “Do it again,” they said, with iPhones cued to “video.”
Within minutes, we were married in the only way it counted for the evening: through fun and companionship.
So the point of this post is: How important is “backstory” when presence and a few shared tricks might mean more? In badly written novels, the exposition is the boring part while a story and scene make the characters hum. I can’t remember all that biographer anyway each time I work with a different Santa; it bogs me down and makes me nervous.
In Santa school, a few Clauses taught me the Reindeer Macarena, another fun number that Claus teams can do together.
As we branch out as independent performers, we need more easy bits to develop a common North Pole language.
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