My early career as a dancer.
Wednesday, 11 September 2002 03:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59And I Was Born One Dark Gray Morn With Music Comin' In My Ears*
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I'm not writing about what happened last year. Nothing of what I feel about 9/11/01 is for public consumption. So, instead I'm writing about my childhood.
I wasn't just an only child, I was an only-grandchild-in-the-state. Spoiled didn't even begin to cover it; everybody loved me. It didn't last long, but it was something special while it did.
Anyway. My grandpa, the one on my mother's side, had a favorite tavern he spent time in. He didn't drink anymore, but he hung out there with his friends. Sometimes he took his dog, Timmy, but my grandmother didn't approve of that. I keep trying to figure out why . . . how can you be a bad influence on a dog? It's not like my grandpa and his buddies were out chasing mailmen, or chewing up slippers. But Timmy was not allowed to go to the tavern. (My grandfather may have drunk, but my grandmother was just odd.)
Anyway. Back a few years ago, my cousin (who is three years my senior) told my mother something nobody else knew. One time when he was in town, Grandpa took us to the tavern. Apparently he use to take me all the time. (I didn't know this because I was only three when he died. I used to spend weekends with my grandparents, then Mondays with Grandpa and sometimes my mother.)
I've unluckily inherited my father's very bowed legs, and I had to wear braces on them when I was very young. My mother also enrolled me in ballet and tap-dancing lessons (which anyone who has ever seen me walk across a room probably finds unbelievable. What can I say, I have no natural grace). Anyway, according to my cousin, when I went to the tavern, I would dance on the bar.
I was a cute little blonde thing back then, no great shakes at dancing, but very enthusiastic. That I do remember very well. I must've been very popular, though. At Grandpa's funeral, his friends kept coming up and asking my mother about me. My mother thought it was because he talked about me all the time (the only child of his favorite child). She had no idea she was talking to my fans.
I remember loving the fantasy of being a ballerina. I wish I remember the dancing part, though. Wouldn't that be something to hold onto when I need confidence--the memory of being a bar dancer at the tender age of three?
*Baby Driver, Simon and Garfunkel
-:- -:- -:- -:-
I'm not writing about what happened last year. Nothing of what I feel about 9/11/01 is for public consumption. So, instead I'm writing about my childhood.
I wasn't just an only child, I was an only-grandchild-in-the-state. Spoiled didn't even begin to cover it; everybody loved me. It didn't last long, but it was something special while it did.
Anyway. My grandpa, the one on my mother's side, had a favorite tavern he spent time in. He didn't drink anymore, but he hung out there with his friends. Sometimes he took his dog, Timmy, but my grandmother didn't approve of that. I keep trying to figure out why . . . how can you be a bad influence on a dog? It's not like my grandpa and his buddies were out chasing mailmen, or chewing up slippers. But Timmy was not allowed to go to the tavern. (My grandfather may have drunk, but my grandmother was just odd.)
Anyway. Back a few years ago, my cousin (who is three years my senior) told my mother something nobody else knew. One time when he was in town, Grandpa took us to the tavern. Apparently he use to take me all the time. (I didn't know this because I was only three when he died. I used to spend weekends with my grandparents, then Mondays with Grandpa and sometimes my mother.)
I've unluckily inherited my father's very bowed legs, and I had to wear braces on them when I was very young. My mother also enrolled me in ballet and tap-dancing lessons (which anyone who has ever seen me walk across a room probably finds unbelievable. What can I say, I have no natural grace). Anyway, according to my cousin, when I went to the tavern, I would dance on the bar.
I was a cute little blonde thing back then, no great shakes at dancing, but very enthusiastic. That I do remember very well. I must've been very popular, though. At Grandpa's funeral, his friends kept coming up and asking my mother about me. My mother thought it was because he talked about me all the time (the only child of his favorite child). She had no idea she was talking to my fans.
I remember loving the fantasy of being a ballerina. I wish I remember the dancing part, though. Wouldn't that be something to hold onto when I need confidence--the memory of being a bar dancer at the tender age of three?
*Baby Driver, Simon and Garfunkel