After the Tango

The week has been fraught with unusual demands: Daily rehearsals with my ballroom dancing class – and, finally, a performance of the Tango at the Mary C. O’keefe Cultural Center. Who would have thought?

There have certainly been doubts all through the process. My mind did frequently rebel against this venture into unaccustomed arenas of “dance”. My body also rebeled at times; the stamina required was fierce, the shoes a punishment for this barefoot dancer. In a way, I was back in Ballet days, wearing the blister-producing point shoes and obeying the choreographic whims of my teacher. Even the desire to please was present in my determination to master the alien rhythms, steps, combinations and transitions – not to mention partnering and Latin style. Yet, to some extent I did master this cha cha infused tango, even going so far as to enjoy losing myself in this alternate means of expression. When I wasn’t succumbing to frustrations over losing one partner and then another, I actually had fun. At dress rehearsal I discovered that I would be partnered by my teacher. The petite and attractive K would don male attire: black shirt and slacks, red tie, a fedora and boots. Above her upper lip a mustache would complete the effect. K was a marvelous lead – and she wasn’t afraid to meet my eye.

So now the tango is behind me, our performance having garnered applause and enthusiastic bravos. It is time for the dance called rest. And for this dance, I am once more gifted with the best sort of partner. Sunny cat yields to the moment with a natural grace that I am more than ready to emulate. In the absence of Music and Star – who have been in doggy camp since Monday – Sunny is basking in the dog-free ambience, loving the tired dancer role I inhabit on this Sunday. Me, too, dear old cat. Me, too…

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3 Responses to “After the Tango”

  1. Kendall Says:

    Me too, dear old friend. Me too. At noon on the first Sunday in May, I am as limp and useless as the sprung hulls of new leaf littering the pavements.

  2. leiflife Says:

    But if there are sprung hulls, there are also new leaves. “…sprung hulls of new leaf…” is a poem about trust. Thank you…

  3. Ann Says:

    Sending a hug your way.

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