Though dance is something that has been in my system since my earliest memories, a director once described my talent for it as “the innate klutziness of Ruby Keeler”. A definite back-handed compliment, I had to admit it was true. For all my love of movement to music I make no claim to artistry, only enjoyment. There was a good reason this technical person shirked required auditions when her university was producing musicals. My place was in the wings or the house, not on the boards.
These days watching
So You Think You Can Dance and listening to the more serious critiques brings back memories of sometimes frustrating rehearsals, hysterical laughter as we neared exhaustion and the pure elation of an audience’s appreciation. Even more, I have begun to realize that I really was paying attention I was training in theatre and through later dance classes. How else would a rank amateur understand Nigel Lithgoe’s technical comments or the nuances of Mary Murphy’s insights?
I don’t know why my mother enrolled me in a tap class at an age when some kids are still perfecting just walking. All I remember of it was being unhappy about wearing mouse ears instead of Donald Duck’s cap in a recital that was interrupted by a small earthquake tremor. But I do know why a year later I was introduced to ballet. I was tripping over everything; even my own shadow. I was only in it for the pink shoes and the hour away from my very British nanny’s etiquette lessons. I didn’t like it, but surviving Madame’s incessant cane tapping out the battements and her screeching “relevé”, “entrechat” and “ligne, ligne, ligne” actually turned out well. Despite having no pretense of sharing my peers’ dreams of becoming ballerinas the ordeal was worth it. Without the grace of that early ballet training, I would probably walk more like a plow horse than a lady. I can say this because when trying to keep pace with my father later on, even the ballet training fell by the wayside.
Like most teens in the 1960s, I learned every dance shown on
American Bandstand, Shindig, Where the Action Is, Soul Train and in the movies. Then, just before college graduation, my favorite professor decided to produce
Dames At Sea. The theatre department majors rebelled, as we had no dance corp or even training, only to be sent to crash courses in modern dance and tap. Truthfully, I was happy about the free tap classes. It seems I am better suited to clogging or flamenco, with a penchant for noise making with my heels, but even so, my fellow students were even less suited to being light on their feet or keeping time with their toes. As the senior members of the department we were required to audition and shortly after the comment I opened this commentary with, most the dance numbers were edited out of the script. Three girls and one guy do not a chorus line make. Though before we all went our separate ways, a few of us invaded the local clubs and showed off our tap dancing inspired disco styles to bewildered, and thankfully drunk, patrons. If only we’d had Travolta with us back then!
Finally after a lull of over twenty years the body needed to move with music again, though the dance form getting all the attention was Break Dancing. Seriously, what woman over 40 would take that up after sitting behind a desk for over a decade? I have my crazed moments of “sure, why not?”, but this was not one of them. I hated most tango music, but the moves were fascinating. So I found an excellent Tanguero who was also the perfect teacher for me. Leonardo Kunkello, knew just when and how to push me past my comfort levels and I have been in love with Tango ever since. But that was only the beginning of my foray into Latin dance.
Mr. Salsa Dallas, Luis Delgadillo, was teaching in the same studio as the tango class I tried when Leonardo moved to Branson, Mo. It was only a few weeks before the music and his personality had me checking out Salsa and leaving the strains of the Argentine accordions for those of Mexican ones. (Yes, I like Cajunto music.) This also when discovered that perfection is not always needed for fun. One facet of Luis’ group classes is that everyone dances with each other. So students experience dancing with experienced and novice, smooth and clumsy, comfortable and panicked partners. It’s a great technique. Women learn to follow better and men learn to take an active lead.
Eventually it was while dancing salsa that I found what I had been looking for.
No, not the perfect partner - could there really be one?
I truly dance for fun. I don’t have to be the best on the floor. I don’t care to perfect flourishes and theatrical moves that wow other dancers. I just want to move to the music and enjoy connecting with the person I am dancing with. If it looks good to others, that’s great, but as long as I don’t hold back or embarrass my partner it just has to feel good to me. Maybe if I were better, I would teach; but I am not. I keep taking beginner level classes, not to show off, but because I enjoy helping Luis with the new students after they get the basics. But I am not good enough to teach, but I can be good enough for a novice to work on his own moves and not have his partner mislead or distract him. And I adore the look in their eyes when they realize they have mastered a step that had them baffled moments before.
So I will keep on dancing around the house, in the clubs once in a while, or maybe at another class, and I will watch shows like
So You Think You Can Dance where I can appreciate the talent, drive and massive effort made to get to that level while feeling no urge to follow in those footsteps whatsoever. Though I listen to a lot of K-Pop these days and I know a Hip-Hop instructor........
