Whisper Power
Never underestimate a whisper. While it operates under the radar all quiet and proper like, make no mistake, it can really pack a wallop. It's got "walking softly and carrying a big stick" down pat. Plus, it's versatile. Whether it's used to ensure that only the confidant next to you catches your snarky take on a party host's pathetic hors d'oeuvres choices or to convey a sense of eeriness in telling a scary campfire story, or even underline a particularly important word or phrase when spilling the skinny to a work associate about the boss and his relationship with the office hoochie, it gets the job done. In spades. But beware, it's finicky; come in too muffled and folks'll get frustrated, offering a polite smile and a nod as they look for the exit. Accidentally deliver too strong with the decibel level and the wrong people--inevitably the ones you're denigrating--are shooting daggers your way, forcing you to tap dance, claiming you were just playfully messing with 'em. "Why else would I have said it loud enough for you to hear, right?"... Yeah, take it from me, that one's almost impossible to pull off.
On reflection, my introduction to the whisper occurred early on when my parents cautioned me to use my lowest inside voice to keep from waking my baby brother from his nap. I was a quick study, realizing heeding their plea meant I could thrive as a solo act, not having to share the stage with a smiling infant (W.C. Fields was right: "Never work with children or animals."). Later on, catching Dad and Mom's use of hushed tones to try and get something past me, I recognized another great trait: stealth. By far, though, the biggest impression a whisper had on me was when my grandmother held court. She was a murmuring virtuoso, sitting back in her armchair, a spot of wine by her side, dishing the dirt to my aunts and uncles, all sitting upright, necks craned, Nana intuitively knowing the precise time to take the air out of the room, "... the next week he found out he had (big pause; the faintest whisper)... 'cancer'". The relatives were aghast, as if being present for the "guilty' verdict inside the courtroom. It was then that I realized the ultimate power of the whisper.
Unfortunately, once power is realized it's only a matter of time before people look for a way to harness it. So, yeah, enter those smarmy individuals attaching "horse", "dog" or "cat" in front of the word and creating a whole new job description: Animal Whisperer. Ingenious in its simplicity, right? Just mutter something into the pet's furry ear and... Voila!... the critter suddenly comes out of its funk, the new attitude adjustment immediately causing an obvious spring in its step. All is well... Ya know, until it wears off and another session is necessary (kinda like visiting the chiropractor, sans the aggravating office wait). And, amazingly, a host of people buy into this. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this is snake oil salesman stuff--not out loud, anyway--but I'd respect the concept a bit more if they were just "Animal Talkers". Yeah, let the person footing the bill hear what's actually being said and judge for themselves. To borrow a quote from an old TV show, "And the password is: (whispering)... 'gibberish'."
Gotta say, I encountered nothing but frustration in researching the origin of the word as info was scarce. Supposedly, it's been in use since, like, the late 7th century and yet no examples were given, its earliest evidence in printed form appearing much later in 1596 in a translation by James Dalyrmple (who?). It's also purportedly unchanged in spelling and pronunciation since that time. It comes from the Old English word "hwisprian", meaning "to speak in a low voice" and is considered an onomatopoeia as it imitates the sound of a breathy utterance. So, yeah, turns out "whisper" is keeping it on the down low, preferring to stick true to its buttoned-up nature as the hush-hush noun/verb (told you it was versatile) that flies in under our aural radar with the kind of perfectly scrubbed background that would make Jason Bourne look like an agent in training.
Indeed, whatever Whisper's sellin', I'm not buyin'. Here's my take on what I think really happened: The practice didn't suddenly appear in the 7th century. Nope, it's been here right along, got in on the ground floor. Talkin' back in the Garden of Eden, with Adam and Eve, at the height of apple-picking season. The two are armed with Granny Smiths when Adam, sensing danger, conjures up the very first whisper. "He's right behind us, isn't he?" Eve, initially startled by his strange voice, catches sight of the Almighty One, countering with her own whisper, "Yes... Yes, he is." They both drop their fruit as Adam continues his hushed tone. "Just act natural, he's not that perceptive; maybe he won't notice--". The booming voice interrupts. "I am God; I notice everything!" Adam, forced to tap dance, immediately goes into recovery mode. "Just messin' with you, God. Why else would I have said it loud enough for you to hear, right?"