MY FIRST RECITAL
by Kelley Cunny
This past Saturday, at the age of 43, I performed
in my very first dance recital.
As a child, each weekday afternoon was devoted
to a different activity - art lesson on Monday, piano on Tuesday,
Bookmobile on Wednesday, another piano lesson on Thursday,
and Brownies on Friday. My parents supported creative activities,
but Mama put her foot down when it came to dance lessons.
"We are not doing dance, " she said, and that was
that.
Over the years I have always harbored a secret
yearning to tap dance. This is problematic because I have
absolutely no dance skills. There are people who have rhythm.
And there are people who have an innate ability to move when
music starts to play. I am not one of those people. I have
difficulty hearing the beat in music (fat lot of good all
those years of piano lessons did) and I look like the tin
man when I attempt to dance. I truly have two left feet.
A year and half ago, I said to myself, "To
heck with it. I am going to tap dance!"
As luck would have it, I ran into my friend
Cheryl in the Walgreen's parking lot. I told her about my
plan and she agreed to take lessons with me.
So we signed up for an Adult Beginner Tap
Class. There are 8 women in the class. We range in age from
33 to 78. And we have fun!
After struggling through the first class
with Miss Edwina as our teacher, I was ready to give up. I
muttered to myself, "Well, you tried to tap, and obviously,
tap isn't for you." Then Cheryl exclaimed, "That
was so much fun. I can't wait 'til next week!" Her enthusiasm
convinced me to continue.
Miss Edwina's extraordinary powers quickly
became apparent. She has boundless patience when we struggle
with a new step. Her eagle eye can spot wayward footwork and
she gently tells us how to correct it. Her energy is endless.
Under Miss Edwina's tutelage, we practiced
for months and months on our dance. I tapped at home. I practiced
at work while waiting for my lunch to cook in the microwave.
I even slipped in a few taps while standing in line at the
HEB.
At last the big day arrived for our dancing
debut.
The elementary school cafeteria was packed.
Mama and Daddy made the trip from Vicksburg, Mississippi,
and my Aunt Helen came from Shreveport, Louisiana.
My classmates and I donned our matching outfits
- black pants and black tops emblazoned with DANCE in very
tasteful rhinestones. Then we waited in the wings for our
turn. I worried that I might hyperventilate. I was concerned
that I might pass out onstage. And I feared that I would forget
my steps.
Class after class of cute little girls did
their cute little dances. Then it was time for the big girls
to hit the stage.
The music began and we started tapping. The
performance itself is a blur. But we had our big finale, complete
with kicks and a fancy turn. The crowd went wild!
Is there any age limit to try out for the
Rockettes?
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