Page 27 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 11

Swan Lake

I have always loved dancing, and I have always danced. I have
taken weekly classes since I was a seven–year-old, beginning
with Miss Goldy’s School of Dance in Philadelphia.
On the same block as Miss Goldy’s lived Kenny, the
boy I had a crush on from kindergarten until sixth grade.
Clutching my dollar-and-a-quarter in my closed palm to pay
for the dance lesson, I mentally prayed for Kenny to be on
his front step, or on the street. I wanted him to see me in
my practice leotard and tights! (In second grade, Kenny gave
me his ID bracelet for a day, which meant we were boyfriend
and girlfriend. At our 20th high school reunion, I reminded
him of this fact. He had absolutely no recollection of me, or
of Miss Goldy, or any of this.)
The most important element of Miss Goldy’s was the
recital. We practiced tiptoeing around on our ballet slippers
for years to the music of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. I had no
idea what the story was, or why we were told to hold our
heads in a certain way, or instructed to dance in total unison.
But I do know that the music transported me. It made me
feel very pretty and dainty.
My good friend Arlene was also in this class. She had
perfect attendance (as I did) until one year, when she sud-
denly stopped coming to the class. Miss Goldy explained to
us that Arlene was “not well.” I didn’t see her for months,
and when she did return to class she looked different. She did
not look like her old self. I guess she looked “not well.” We
both danced, and I kept quiet about how she looked. I kept