Month: March 2016

Today I had the privilege of spending time with a woman who is dying. I brought a blanket made of faux fur and spread it over her skin and bones. Seeing the corner of it, and rather delusional right now, she whispered, excited as a small child, “Oh, do you see the fawn?!” Where? “Right there beside me, all curled up. Oh touch it!” And she gently caressed the bundle of blanket beside her and cooed to it. “Oh, oh, so precious you are…”  and clucked her tongue as though to a baby. “He’s winking at me! Can you believe…

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One could say that tap is the geek of the dance world. The children learn the names of their great grandparent’s heroes: Shirley Temple, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Bunny Briggs and Ernest Brownie Brown. There is no hip hop sneer, no gratuitous jazzy pelvis thrust, no solemn Brisé volé. It’s generally smiles smiles smiles and often suspenders and funny caps and adorable little flouncy skirts that all harken back to an earlier more innocent time. And I love it that my girl loves it. I watch the rehearsal. This is her first year in competitive tap. This is her first…

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