Years ago I taught improv at my synagogue every now and then, on Sunday mornings. If the holiday was Purim, the kids and I would play games about kings and queens and whatever else came to mind. A favorite moment was acting out stories about King David in the marketplace when this boy Maurice said he wanted to play a detective in the scene. I remember being so charmed by his unabashed desire to be a secret agent no matter what century we were in. (This memory is made all the more poignant since Maurice died of a brain tumor a couple of years ago as a young teenager.) There was also a girl named Lea in the class and she was dramatic and rebellious, full of mischief.Fast forward about ten or so years. This past Friday afternoon I ran into Lea and her mom sitting outside the Dairy Queen, eating ice cream. It was gray out, muggy, mid-afternoon. I was due back at my desk at World Headquarters, Lea had a physics test to take at school and her mom was also heading back to work. Everything felt so sluggish, like we could have all laid down for naps right then and there.
When I asked what’s new, Lea said she was going to be on the news in a short clip showing her dancing in scenes from West Side Story accompanied by the University of Wisconsin-Madison band.
I said, “Oh phooey, I won’t be home to see the news. Will you show me the dance right here, right now,” She said, “Sure,” and set her ice cream cone on the table.
She then proceeded to dance parts of “America,” “Cool,” “Dance at the Gym” and “Maria” on the sidewalk. Complete with turns, jumps, plies, releves, hip swivels and snapping. Right in front of me. I mean, gosh. This tall, gorgeous, strong young woman was dancing the original choreography. In all of her glory. With poise and sparkle. I had asked so casually and had no idea I’d be rewarded with a small concert right then and there.
It felt like that scene in Fame, the movie about the arts high school, when the kids poured into the streets of New York City, dancing on top of and around all the cars, stopping traffic. Even though it was one dancer on the sidewalk in the Midwest, Lea stopped me in my tracks.
I woke up after that. Her brilliance, her boop boop dee doo was contagious and spilled all over me.
I couldn’t stop beaming.
Could it be that we are all walking around ready to burst into song and dance, some of us more readily than others? What if we simply asked each other? If someone asked you to set your ice cream cone on the table and show off what you’re passionate about, what would you do?
