Nothing freezes my heart like those two syllables falling out of Rob's mouth. "Uh-oh" is the harbinger of impending doom. Death. Dismemberment. Something that's really going to sting.
I've personally never mastered the art of understatement. I'm no hysteric, but I certainly am not one to deny myself the cathartic benefits of responding to a situation with emotional force. I believe, as Mark Twain once said, "Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer." And, so, I sometimes make colorful use of my six years of tutelage from Teamster truck drivers. (Those guys could come up with pairings of swear-words that I would never have thought of on my own.)
It's usually about halfway into my response to a situation that I think of the perfect understatement. But, by then, it's too late. Quitting mid-swear and inserting some bon mot of restraint resembles a verbal train wreck. Suddenly jumping track like that leaves deep scars on innocent on-lookers. Listeners stumble wailing and confused from the hyberbole-gone-awry, piled-up and smoking in front of them. The overall effect is pretty disturbing.
So I feel a pang of envy when someone sums up a dire situation with a wry comment. I studied Patrick McManus' essay "Useful Outdoor Comments" as though it were a Bible. He stresses the importance of choosing the appropriate comment -- in most cases a stunning understatement -- when faced with disaster:
Every year thousands of sportspersons suffer unnecessary ridicule because they don't know the proper comments to make in particular outdoor situations. Merely extracting one's self from a predicament is insufficient; one must do so with grace and style. The proper comment not only enables one to prevail over embarrassment but, in many instances, even to survive.Thus was born, "Well, so much for woodcraft," and its myriad, highly-useful variations.
My favorite understatement in film is the "Objects Are Much Closer Than They Appear" on the side mirror of a Jeep in desperate flight from a Tyrannosaurus Rex in the move, Jurassic Park.
But the master of understatement -- the veritable guru -- was a friend of mine's father-in-law, John.
When his family was still very young, they were in a car wreck involving flying off a freeway overpass and landing on the car's roof. No one was hurt (cars back then could reasonably be compared to tanks), but they were all shaken up. As the car gently rocked back and forth on its roof, John -- still facing forward, hands on the steering wheel -- calmly told his 8-year-old son, "William, we are upside-down."
Brings a tear to my eye.
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