The Snowman: A Family Tradition
by Meghan Blanton Smith (Originally published in the Fall 2019 HearHere)
Before Ana asked Elsa if she wanted to build a snowman in Disney’s Frozen, Raymond Briggs invited his readers to do the same. Briggs released his classic wordless book The Snowman in 1978 and it was adapted into a cartoon in 1982. The Snowman book and movie have been a constant presence in my family’s life. I can’t remember the first winter that I learned of the story, but in my mind, it has always been there.
The Snowman tells the story of a young boy, James, and his snowman. With boundless excitement James builds a snowman in his backyard, complete with a tangerine nose, coal buttons, hat and scarf. That night James tosses in his bed almost anticipating the magic that is soon to come. He awakes and goes outside to find that the snowman has come to life. Like a good friend, James introduces him to the human world. The Snowman learns about Christmas ornaments, television, playing dress up, and the dangers of a fireplace. After a ride through the forest on a motorcycle, the snowman takes James’ hand. Together they run through the snow and begin to fly. The music crescendos and models their ascent as the hauntingly beautiful song, “Walking in the Air,” narrates their flight.
We’re walking in the air
We’re floating in the moonlit sky
The people far below are sleeping as we fly
Together they fly through the midnight blue above snow covered roof tops, icy mountains, and ocean creatures before landing at the edge of a forest. The music forebodingly beckons them into the deep woods. They’re greeted by jovial dancing snowmen holding pint glasses. Father Christmas himself gifts James with a scarf after dancing a festive jig with him and the snowmen party, and…. well, you just need to come see the movie at the Family Concert in December (page 54)!
As a little girl my dad would tuck me in every night and sing “Walking in the Air.” Although it has been covered by over 40 different artists since 1982, none can compare the sound of my father’s voice. As he sang, I’d drift to sleep with thoughts of taking flight and gliding through the crisp winter air with a magical snowman by my side.
It was and is and always will be “our” song – a shared soundtrack to my childhood and his fatherhood. The song has meant different things to me at different points of my life. I knew my dad had a special song planned for our father/daughter dance at my wedding but he wouldn’t tell me what song he had chosen. I walked to the center of the dance floor and waited in anticipation of what song it would be. By the third note I was in tears as I held my dad’s neck. We danced to commemorate the end of one season of our relationship and the start of a new one.
One night, soon after my first son was born, I heard my dad’s soft voice coming from the living room. I walked in to find him cuddling my baby and singing our song over him, passing on a tradition and inviting the newest member of the family into something just the two of us had shared. Now all four of my sons know the song and the story of The Snowman. Every winter season we snuggle on the couch under blankets while my youngest clutches his stuffed Snowman. Time has a way of handing the baton to the next generation. I hold them as the parent, the one who sings, rather than the one who is sung to. I cherish knowing that I sit in the middle of three generations that sings of walking in the air on magical snowy nights.
Memory endures within music. It has the power to transport us back in time to relive joyous memories and tender moments. “Walking in the Air” will always be a musical thread connecting my father and I throughout our lives.
The story of The Snowman challenges us to live with joy and exuberance, to cherish those around us and allow those experiences, no matter how fleeting or impermanent they might be, to mold and shape us.
I’m holding very tight
I’m riding in the midnight blue
I’m finding I can fly so high above with you
***Megan Blanton Smith is a patron and contributing author to the Philharmonic. She lives in Spartanburg with her two young sons.