Free Princess Izzy and the E Street Shuffle by Beverly Bartlett Page A

the roads that lead out of dying small towns as she was flying back into tiny Bisbania, with its petty neighborhood politics
     and struggling industries. She had listened to songs about working-class couples being torn apart by economic hardship while
     she was being courted by the prince.
    But she stopped listening to the music when she moved into the castle, where the music was always selected by Hubert or the
     queen and where the king required that 86 percent of any playlist be national.
    Somewhat irrationally, Isabella thought Geoffrey should know about the castle playlist rules, so it irritated her that he
     suggested listening to a retro American songster, and it further irritated her that Geoffrey seemed to go out of his way to
     point out that he had married—though this seems unfair, coming from a woman who had been the star of the most celebrated wedding
     of the century. (Especially given that Geoffrey mentioned his wife only in passing, and not until the “P.S.”) But fairness
     was beside the point. Isabella was experiencing the same sort of jealousy that makes all of us prefer to believe that none
     of our ex-boyfriends ever really got over us, even when the evidence would suggest that they were over us before the relationship
     was officially over.
    Despite Isabella’s rather pronounced initial disappointment, she saved the letter. Sometimes when she was lonely or sad, she
     would pull it out of her makeup drawer and reread it. These readings became daily and served to elevate and solemnize the
     simple words, and soon she found herself taking comfort in them. She came to like the notion that she could listen to a working-class
     American songwriter for advice, since it seemed to dignify her duties as real work. It also eventually came to please her
     that Geoffrey’s wife had sent her advice. It suggested, somehow, that despite all the “Dizzy Izzy” headlines, Her Royal Highness
     the Princess of Gallagher had a following, an appeal, a “people,” if you will. There were real human beings out there—an American
     car mechanic’s wife among them—who were rooting for her.
    So she ordered (she would say “asked”) Secrest to bring her headphones, and the princess began listening to Springsteen while
     writing letters or signing proclamations or dining alone. They gave her energy, put a bounce in her step, and helped her to
     laugh at herself. Many a day, she’d head off for a round of ribbon cuttings humming “Working on the Highway” and giggling
     a little. Often she would attempt in her speeches to toss out a poetic image that she thought might have suited the Boss—most
     notably in a commencement address at Bisbania Community College, in which she compared a degree to a beloved and well-tuned
     car.
    More and more, she found herself relying on Springsteen for inspiration and comfort. Then one day, while lifting weights to
     one of the rocker’s lesser-known tunes in the castle gymnasium, she came to believe that somehow the Boss was speaking directly
     to her.
    She had the headphones turned up loud. She was attempting to keep pace with the music as she did her modest bench presses—less
     weight, more reps for toning. Suddenly, the lyrics jumped out at her. The song, entitled “Cynthia,” was a silly little ditty
     about construction workers admiring a classy lady. She doesn’t stop or greet the men, but they don’t care. In a gloomy and
     glum world, the workers appreciate simply knowing that such loveliness exists.
    Isabella was so enthralled with the song that she stopped in mid-bench press to listen to it. She had, like many princesses
     before her, struggled to know her job. She was not an actress who entertained, nor a stateswoman who governed. What should
     she do? And here was the answer. The construction workers saw the classy lady as an excuse to take a break from their daily
     labor. When she passed by, it was a reason to “stop, stand, and salute” her style.
    In the