Scenes from the DanceSport Academy Showcase

We spent much of yesterday rehearsing for and then delivering the sixth DanceSport Academy Showcase, sited this year at the Villanova University Connelly Center (which is also where the Lore Kephart Distinguished Historians Series is hosted).

I happen to think it was the best show ever—full of brave souls, innovative choreography, sheer talent, electrifying youth, and the final crowning glory of two performances by Latin champion dancers Jan Paulovich and Lana Roosiparg.

It was also, for me, a chance to dance that waltz with Jan and that cha-cha with my husband—a chance, too, to be surprised by dear friends Tom, Nancy, Mark, Elizabeth, and Laura, who arrived unannounced and cheered us on.  How much that meant (and how long remembered it will be).  And afterward, of course, dinner with the Bells.  We always love our dinner with the Bells, and it's especially fun when dinner with the Bells coincides (another surprise) with a second chance to visit with Tom, Nancy, Mark, Elizabeth, and Laura.

Thank you, Scott Lazarov, John Larson, Cristina Mueller, Aideen O'Malley, Tirsa Rivas, and, of course, Jan and Lana, for seeing us through.  For asking us to do more than we think we can—for expecting it from us—and for giving us a stage upon which we can try to soar...or, at least, hear the music.

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Jan and Lana Dance the Jive (for real, ladies and gentlemen)

How often I can be found here on this blog, talking dance, yearning for it.  How many books of mine have taken a choreographic turn or stopped and lived at, say, the very House of Dance?  I've been blessed by teachers who sway me toward better—Scott Lazarov with his impeccable choreography, Jan Paulovich, who insists that I hear the music and is so artfully exact, John Larson, the King of Standard, Cristina Mueller and her Thursday wonders, Aideen O'Malley who does it all, John Vilardo, who worked me out of paralytic fear early on, and others, too.  Blessed is me.

I'm not terrific at dance, but I keep trying, and I console myself with the thought that the trying matters.  This coming Sunday I'll be trying again in a DanceSport Academy showcase—dancing the cha-cha with my husband and a waltz with Jan Paulovich.  I'm not exactly ready for either dance.  But the hours tick on, and Sunday comes.

Today, though, I share this video of Jan Paulovich and his partner, Lana Roosiparg, who dance so magnificently together.  This is what they do, these teachers, when they are free to be their ultimate dance selves.

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Gratitudes

Some words of thanks on this gorgeous, nearly breezy day (the skies want to yield the breeze; they do, I can just feel it):

To Dr. Judy Evans, for being a physician and shrink and friend in one, seeing me through a five-day bout of insomnia.

To Jean Paulovich, for not giving up on me and my samba, until yes, I could dance it; I did. Okay, so it's not nearly perfect and will never be. But it's better than it was.

To my kid, for being one of the most truly noble and upstanding people (our children surpass us, oh, how quickly they do). His words tonight: "Sure, there'll be aspects of people that frustrate. It's just hard not to see the good parts first."

To Amy Rennert, for being gloriously honest, every time. And for taking my call.

To Alli, for her posting on YPulse: http://books.ypulse.com/

To Jill Santopolo, for sharing the news about UNDERCOVER's selection as a 2008 Capitol Choices for Children and Teens book and as a nominated title for the ALA's Best Books for Young Adults.

To Melissa Walker, for being the harbinger.

To Aideen O'Malley, who extends as a friend as magnificently as she extends as a dancer (how does she do both?).

If I go on, I'll just cry. So I'll stop.

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The Genius of Dance

Every single lesson, it's there: the genius of dance in the blood of the truest dancers. How I crave just a fraction of what they know about the insistence of the "and" beat, the telegraphics of thighs, the power of the pause. Wait, and listen, say the teachers of dance. Stop and feel. As if all that is required is a greater intuition, a greater willingness to stand up straight and practice the art of anticipating nothing, then doing the something that is in that moment called for.

Dancing requires the woman to be prepared for anything and to precipitate nothing at the same time. It requires her to assume a stance of beauty, even if old is what she feels that day, or awkward. It requires a woman to listen. On my best dancing days, I exist outside the claw of myself.

I know nothing. I seek all. I grow exhausted with the endless want of doing one thing well.

The next day I return to my desk, the story I am writing newly perched on the shelf of itself.

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