Tom DeLay's Not the Only One Dancing
Mary C. Curtis
National Correspondent
Posted:
09/28/09
If Tom DeLay can do it . . .
Whatever you think about the former Texas congressman, you've got to give him credit for shimmying on the nationally televised stage -- in a ruffled shirt -- on "Dancing With the Stars," as my colleague Emily Miller reports.
In my birthday month, I've discovered one very nice thing about getting older. You're long past worrying about what people might think, so you're open to new experiences. At a certain point, sucking in your gut becomes futile. Don't worry about slipping up or down; no one is looking.
When the North Carolina Dance Theatre announced a free week of classes to attract students (and knock "dance lessons" off the to-do lists of curious cowards) I had to jump in – with two left feet. The troupe, based in Charlotte and led by legendary Balanchine dancers Jean-Pierre Bonnefoux and Patricia McBride, seemed artistically out of my reach, even in a beginner's class. But the Afro-Caribbean class would be taught by a former Alvin Ailey dancer, making the lure impossible to resist.
In an hour-and-a-half travelogue through the dances of Brazil, Cuba and Haiti accompanied by drummers, a studio filled with amateurs tried to release our inner Katherine Dunham (also a mentor to teacher April Berry). With each stop, the inhibitions melted away.
The young students Berry teaches as the company's director of education and outreach are open and curious, she said. "They have no fear." Adults are harsh judges, mostly of themselves. "They're worried about their image." It takes longer to reach the point of relaxation and release.
Robbie Jarrett always wanted to learn Afro-Caribbean dance, but she was afraid of what people would think. But on this day, on her 43rd birthday, she stood beside me, waiting for the next instruction: bare feet facing front and connected to the earth. "I don't even care," Jarrett said. "The older I get, I just feel more free."
One mother of two boys was moved to tears after 90 minutes of leaping and strutting, of arms, legs and hips flowing across the floor. Finally, 45-year-old Beth Badour and the rest of us got it, the mind, body and spirit connection that Berry was going for from the start. "I am home again," Badour said.
Don't get me wrong. I'd still gladly move back the clock to add energy and subtract a few gray hairs. But if this liberating new feeling comes with candles on the cake, getting older just got a little less scary.