Saturday, June 21, 2008
My memory of ballet class is not good. I think it was a series of clasees--ten or twelve weeks. I had to take the bus into Schenectady and I think I was about seven. One day the bus driver yelled at me for trying to cheat him with the transfer I presented. It was the one the other driver had given me. I carried only enough money for my bus ticket, and couldn't pay again. I cried and he must have let me continue, but I am not too clear on how the two of us came to a resolution.
I know this is silly, but I can still get anxious when I take the bus or train. I am very careful to find out as much in advance as I can about how things are done, and to try to do them correctly. I had no talent for dancing and my mother did not force me to continue to lessons once the few weeks were up. Since she herself was a physical education teacher and had majored in dance, this was a big concession from her. Thanks, Olga, now gone to heaven!
at 8:21 PM