We've been looking for a dance studio for Emma to take classes out here in the 'burbs, but unfortunately a lot of these places are pretty funky. The fierce competitions, heavy makeup, weird costumes, and pole-dancer moves aren't quite what my little artist girl can handle. And thank goodness for that.
Anyway, I checked out Zenon Dance Company in Minneapolis and found an intergenerational hip-hop class that both Emma and I attended yesterday. I was:
1) easily the oldest one in the class;
2) sweating like a pig;
3) really dorky;
4) quite embarrassing to my 11-year-old;
5) having the time of my life!
Not many of you know that years ago I was trained in classical Russian ballet and performed in a local company...you know, Giselle and Sleeping Beauty and Scheherazade and all that. But about 25 years ago my body gave way and I had to have reconstructive surgery on my feet, which put an end to that career path. (Not a terrible thing since I'm over 6 feet tall en pointe!) It was really depressing to quit dance cold turkey after being consumed by it for so many years. I really love to dance and have always wanted to find some kind of replacement...
Anyway, this class was so wonderful! The studio is just like it should be--in an old downtown building with big windows; funky garage-sale furniture to wait on; and lots of interesting-looking people of all walks of life coming and going. Our teacher, Arturo Miles, was buoyant and supportive and completely, well...jubilant about hip hop. His liveliness was contagious and it helped me forget about how terribly out of shape I am and that I'm getting a bit too old to do complicated step combinations. But you know what? I was there and that's what matters.
Being there. Trying. Showing up. Giving it a shot. I figure that at any age, that's what matters.
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2 comments:
Once upon a time I had a dream of becoming a professional dancer. I traded my painting skills for dance lessons (and sad to say there are quite a few garish murals to my credit gracing the walls of the infamous unnamed). But I chickened out before I even finished my first audition. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment I decided to walk out.
So... I applaud your efforts and your determination to get back on the horse, despite the hormonal embarrassment of your 11 year old. Rock on with your bad self!
Andrew, you would have been a beautiful dancer! I'm glad we both took different career paths, though...
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