The Recital

My first love was ballet.  Dancing in circles and pirouettes was a natural part of girlhood for me.  So, of course I was thrilled when Mom signed us up for dance lessons at Mrs. Maccora’s Dance Studio, and Dad agreed to pay for it.

The first year was tap dancing.  My little sister and I purchased stiff black patent shoes with steel toes and heels, tied with a long black ribbon.  Shuffle-ball-toe; shuffle-ball-toe.  We practiced in our leotard and tights at the second floor downtown studio.  The large open room had a satisfyingly noisy wood floor, ample lighting, a long practice bar along one side of the room, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror behind that.  If I wanted to, I could see myself from every angle, but I don’t remember looking.  I was much too focused on watching the teacher, and carefully regarding my feet.  It was a lot for a five-year old.

During the week, we practiced at home in our upstairs apartment, where Mom had installed a practice bar for us all along the hallway to the bathroom.  The song for the upcoming recital was the popular “Pretty Baby,” and Mom stopped and started, lifted and replaced the needle to the 45 rpm record as she helped us practice our routine.  “Every body has a baby, that’s why I’m in love with you. Pretty ba-by.  Pretty ba-by!”  It’s a wonder I don’t still hear it in my sleep!

Our costumes were a Kelly green silk hat with an eye-shade brim, silky top and shorts, and of course the shiny, black tap shoes.

The second year was ballet.  At last!  This was the good stuff.  Five positions—Check.  Ballet tutu—Check.  Pink ballet slippers—Check.  I imagined that I looked like a graceful professional, but you can see that I really looked like a little girl with bunny ears and red lipstick! 

 
















Everything went well that night at the Recital until my little sister hesitated at our “Enter” cue, and I had to give her a “little nudge” to get her started.  Oh dear.  I think she has forgiven me.

By the fourth grade, however, my true passion had turned to music.  It was a latent talent, my mother having given me a miniature piano when I was two!  About age nine a neighbor gave us an upright piano, and I fell head-over-heels in love!

My parents gave me lessons with Mrs. Dorothy Setty, a parent at our local Elementary.  She was kind and encouraging, and I blossomed.  I made it through John Thompson’s Third Grade Course, and I am very proud that I did.

When I was 17 years old I learned to play a popular song called “The Theme from Love Story.”  It was dreamy and romantic, and in a minor key, which was just my cup of tea at the time.  I decided to enter the Talent Show at North High School.  When I auditioned, there was another classmate who wanted to sing “Love Story” as her talent, so they paired the two of us.  My mother always said that I played beautifully, and the performance would have been perfect without the singer.  Moms!  Gotta love ‘em!

That was my final Recital.  I have never taken to the stage since.  My glory days are behind me, but I have warm memories of both Mom and Dad, each in their own way, helping me get lessons, practice regularly, suit up, and perform in those rarified moments.  They watched and clapped and bragged to their friends as if we had been at Carnegie Hall.