my ballet story (part II)

Before I go on... The art of ballet has evolved and especially a lot in the last 50 years or so... I have seen some old videos from the 50s and some of the great stars of ballet from that era couldn't get a job sweeping the floor now.

Above is my new obsession... Semyon Chudin... the young Russian Ballet Etoile.


V asked me if the dancer's bones ever break???


Well... no... and I will tell you why.


They have no friggin bones!!!!!!!! 


hahahaha!!!


Do you see THAT foot??? That unbelievable foot!!!!!!!?

God had just had the best sex of his life when he made that foot. That foot does not exist in nature and there is nothing one can do to MAKE that foot happen. Oh, maybe about 1/20th of that arch--- but THAT is it!!! You're either born with it or you're not.

A lot of ballerinas don't even have feet that beautifully arched and it is almost unheard of in a man... but as Sam says...


That isn't a man!!!  hahaha!!!


I dunno...he's man enough for me...haha!!! those legs!!! OMG!!! I'm such a dirty old lady...


I'll tell you... If this dude ever comes to NY... I'm gettin tix to go see him and I'm gonna sit in the front row, so I can catch some of his sweet sweat. 


okay, Lexie--- calm down now... :))))))

Anyway... I'll shut up and go on with my story of how I began to dance. (for real)

********


It was extremely common for American kids as it still is (even more so now!) to go to extra curricular activities after school.  I REALLY wanted to take ice skating lessons and I also wanted to take piano lessons, but my mom was too busy caring for her 4th child. My father.  And childish was him on a GOOD DAY.

It wasn't really until just a few years ago, that I realized FULLY, just how fucked up and dysfunctional my childhood was... and there is stuff that happened that will make your hair stand on end and will make you wanna murder my father... but rest assured, he's already very dead--- may his tormented soul, rest in peace now.

Ya know what they always say... "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."

well... its one of those aphorisms/axioms/platitudes that's true.

So, where were we???

Ahhh yes... it was February 1970-- Mom was flipping out. No, wait--- the term "flipping out" doesn't quite cover it. She was having a nervous break down, actually. She was screaming bloody murder and she wasn't really all that much of a screamer...at least not until then... but now... she can scream with the best of 'em. Ever since that day.

As a matter of fact, she told me the night before while we were drinking our hot chocolate together. (which I would often make and bring into her room for us to share) that she was planning on leaving my father--- "one day." I was okay with that idea and went to bed. What she didn't tell me is, that "one day" was only 10 hours away!!!!!!!!!!!! haha...

So, somehow, I took myself to school. I was already nearly fully grown and was one of those girls that looks like she could be in college already, at 12. And I was now 14.

And folks, if the truth be told... (and you know I ALWAYS tell y'all the truth).  I was.  I mean, I was EXTREMELY mature, and settled and sensible and so forth. (back then I WAS!)

scary.

I was what my husband and I call a "pretend child."

Pretend child
 
A child who requires little if any intervention, discipline, help, advice, etc. from their parental units or guardians.

:)))

Mistletoe and Don at 23 and 21, respectively were out of the house already.  It was just my mom and me and basketball season (and therefore, cheerleading) was coming to end...

My grandparents showed up at the airport and I had never seen my grandmother so angry. They said they were going to contest this divorce.  It was all verrrrrrrrrrrry ugly, but I just did my best to stay out of everyone's hair.

Then... my grandmother had a heart attack and lay in in the hospital for two weeks, and then... she died.

she fucking died-- of a broken heart.
I know... it all really sucked.

I adored her, my Nonnie and even though I was greatly relieved to have my sicko father out of the house who was threatening to kill my mom and me, I was very, very sad.

I wasn't even allowed to visit my grandmother and see her before she died.

If this were now, I would've gone to a grief counselor or something, but there was no such thing back in 1970--- so, I sought out my dearest friends at school to share my troubles with. Surely, they could help me see myself out of this horrible funk. That's what friends are for. right?

I had no idea, but... I did confide in a few of my closest friends, Shari and Lori and then instead of being there for me as I had hoped, I found them avoiding me... as if I had a contagious disease. Back in 1970 there was such a stigma of divorce. I mean it was very, very rare and the whole thing with my father was just unspeakably gross... but still... I was so lost. I think that is why, to this day, I have a horrible time making friends. Unless someone goes out of their way to befriend me, I am afraid to take the extra step, I'm somewhat better, I think. Its still a struggle.

Somehow, though, through all of this turmoil, I still did really well in school. I think my entire being was wrapped up in that one thing I knew how to do really well and again, school was my solace and my escape. Life had spun wildly out of control for quite some time then...

To put it succinctly, in the 2.5 years before my father was kicked out, my dad had his first heart attack and then, he suffered from a rare and almost deadly skin disease which put him in the hospital for 18 months. Two of the hospitals were no where near where we lived and so my mother would leave me, for long stretches of time (with neighbors) or commute 300 miles between Chicago and Evansville, to care for my "dying" father. He didn't die then, though... He came home, against the STRONG advice of the hospital. They felt that he should've been in a convalescent home, but we had run out of money.

He was crazy before he got sick and now he was even crazier AND very violent.

The previous fall, Mom, (six months before she dumped my dad) who had never graduated from college went back to finish her degree. She was like the first woman to ever do this. In 1970, this was ground breaking, but she truly wanted to get her degree and to become a psychotherapist. She had dropped out in the first place to care for her mother who was dying of cancer and then... it was World War II and she married my father in 1943 and that was that... for 27 years. Her plans were to take two years to finish the BA and then she was going to apply to master's degree programs for a MA in sociology.

One day, a couple months after my dad had left, I overheard my mom speaking on the phone with Mistletoe. Mis was having her own serious problems. She had eloped the previous summer with a young doctor that she had only known for 3 days and now at the insistence of the young man's mother, was in the process of having the marriage annulled. Poor Mistletoe loved this young doctor with all of her heart. She really did, but alas... the marriage ended.  (note: dude married three more times!!!) To say that she was crushed beyond all repair would be an understatement. I don't think she ever recovered and it has only exacerbated her mental health issues, I think.

There was something else in Mis' convo with mom though, that spring... A bright note. Mistletoe had decided to start, at nearly 24, to take ballet again. A part of me, felt a little jealous when I heard that. She had found a wonderful studio where she lived in Menlo Park, CA called Roseanne's School of Dance... which SOUNDS dolly dingle... but it wasn't, at all. BTW, the studio was found in 1947 by Roseann Saylor and she retired in 2001 and the school is still in existence! (more about that later and you are going to be amazed!)

Later that spring, Mom and I made summer plans for me to first go to a summer camp that I loved and was subsidized by our Temple because my mom didn't have money for such things and then to spend a couple of weeks with Mis out in California which I was sooooooooooooooooooooo excited to do!!!  I adored my big sis and as you can well-imagine to a fourteen yr old girl, that her 24 yr old sis, was the epitome of everything she hoped to become! (but, that was then...) :)

So... all of that happened... and in August, I went out to Cali to visit Mistletoe... It was a wonderful time... I passed the time reading and I picked up the most curious book

And I did everything the book said to do... and then... I finally understood what all of those "feelings" were all about... sweet. :))

I also went to hang out at the ballet studio while Mis took her ballet classes... 

It was then and there... I can't really explain it all that well... It was like something that had been living inside me, dormant--- suddenly came to LIFE, I later realized, but now... it finally ALL came together for me... The music, the movement, the pretty satin shoes with ribbons, the girls-- so graceful and slender and lovely--- It was everything that I loved embodied in one perfect medium.  It was agonizing just sitting there--- 
W A T C H I N G !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I came home and now, I BEGGED my mother to let me take ballet!!!!!!!

"Oh, pleeeeeeeeeease Mommy, I'll do anything... anything at all... I must do this. If Mistletoe can do it, so can i!!!"


And so, my mom called up Sylvia-- The owner of where I took gymnastics to see if there was a ballet class for her fourteen year old daughter who was a rank beginner.