The music that moves me is the Ralph Vaughan Williams piece "The Lark Ascending." It makes me think of my friend, Madeline. That piece of music for me has come to represent her, light, thin, fragile and yet if
soars.
We met in Adult Ballet class in 1981. She was just returning to dance after finally ending a bad marriage. I was just starting to study dance as an outlet after my failed marriage. We were partnered in class and in several performances with that company because I was closest to her height, over 6 feet, when she was on point. She was a stunning beauty with long blond hair and a dancer's body. Despite the challenges of
being a single mom, she was always upbeat and fun to be with. We were both just getting over failed romances, so neither of us asked for more than friendship.
We shared a love of music and dance. Since classes, rehearsals and performances took so much of our time, energy and money, we didn't date much or have extra money for entertainment. So we would get together
every few weeks and either watch a movie on my VCR or occasionally we'd scrape up some money and go see a concert, opera or ballet performance in Kansas City. We were 30 something bohemian dancers.
One Friday she called to say she had a video of a dance performance she was very excited to see. It was the Alvin Ailey Dance Company, and one of the pieces was a modern ballet choreographed for solo female dancer
to "The Lark Ascending." We watched it twice that night, and both times she had tears in her eyes. It had always been her dream to be a soloist. That was our entertainment for that weekend. After our dance company failed, we bounced though other companies in the area and danced together several more times. After ten years we both quit dance at about the same time and drifted apart. The years were creeping up on
us.
As luck would have it, we both found the loves of our lives at about the same time. She married a retired doctor who gave her love, respect, and security. All the things she hadn't had all those years. And, he liked
going to the ballet. We ran into them twice at ballet performances in Kansas City. The last time I saw her we chatted about how happy we both were now, and how we missed dancing. We held onto each others hands for
an extra moment or two and just looked into each others eyes. Without saying anything, we realized that our friendship, and dance had helped us get through a rough period of our lives and that we now had new
partners and life was good.
A couple of years later, as my wife and I were in the middle of the hustle and bustle of leaving Topeka and moving to our dream home in Maine, a friend called to say how sorry she was about me losing my
friend Madeline. I was devastated. I hadn't even known she was ill. The cancer had taken her very quickly, just when her life was so good. At first I was angry at her for going without giving me a chance to say
goodbye, but in time I realized what she had done. She had exited life the way she was trained to exit the stage as a dancer; quickly, quietly with energy, grace, and an uplift of arms and body,... like a lark ascending.
In the Ballet, when a couple finish their pas-de-deux, the ballerina receives a bouquet of roses. She carefully selects one and presents it to her partner as a token of gratitude and respect. For 17 years,
whenever I return to Topeka, I place a single rose on the grave of my dear fiend and dance partner.