Oxygen Debt

I never thought I'd ever be a dancer.

I've always wanted to dance.

There was a school that the rich - or seemingly rich - kids I went to elementary school with, the ones who headed South on Cincinnati Street after school as I headed North - called Skelly's, I think - went to for social dance lessons. I'm sure they were the miserable affairs you can imagine, boys bowing to girls all sitting along a mirrored wall while someone makes them waddle through the basic box step.

At least, I hope it was that way.

We did square dancing in school, this was Oklahoma, of course. Partly history, partly Phys Ed.

My eldest sister was in a dance routine in high school, part of the legendary Daze shows produced by students to an Equity level. More on those another time, but I do remember the music: Henry Mancini's "Pink Panther" theme. I sang myself to sleep that night with the opening bass lick and the unforgettable sax tune.

Years later I interviewed Mancini and he thought it was cool. I was so proud I could die.

I tried to tap dance on the porch of our house and my mother, not given to sophisticated English formulations said "you are just a dancy boy". I loved my Mom very much ....

My biggest exposure to real dance happened because I seriously dated a gen-u-wine New York dancer - a finalist for the original role of Cassie in "A Chorus Line" and a student of modern dance pioneer Charles Wideman.

Her dad - my mentor in becoming a published composer - wrote musicals for off-off Broadway, as well as shows detailing church history for use as "chancel" pieces (which is how I knew him). She was his resident choreographer and she was really good.

Oddly she was also noted for having two of the top ten legs in New York City, according to the Daily News, who sponsored the contest - 7th and 9th place, respectively .....

Anyway, I was taught basics of ballet (a fond dream), modern (fall and recovery, very Wideman-esque), jazz (for show work) and tap - purely for the joy of making the sound. Jazz tap.

So now that experience can be called on to serve me as I allow myself the joy of letting my body speak through the movement of Tango. Up until now I never really believed I could do this. I've always been unable to voice - even accept - my physicality and trying to speak from it was like yelling inside a dark, empty warehouse.

All I could manage was an insane jealousy of those who were more comfortable with themselves, who moved effortlessly, were lithe and flexible and very handsome or beautiful. A profound feeling of "I can't".

"I can't ..." can be a perfectly reasonable evaluation of the state of affairs if it's tied to "... because I don't know how to yet".

When it's tied to " ... because I'm not allowed" then it's that horrid voice that always seems to send me East.

The irony that I've spent most of my life helping others do what they didn't know - or think - they could do .... well, that's not lost on me now.

I've danced before, in concerts, in shows, sometimes just spontaneous hoofing - but this is different.

Taking classes leaves me speechless, I'm a sponge and sponges aren't noted for repartee. I watch and it all just makes sense. That doesn't mean it comes easily, it's just that my body seems to hear me - or I'm hearing it, just the way music can take over my conscious mind and render me motionless. Tango blends the voice I've always had as a composer with the voice of my body, which is just now clearing its throat.

I can hear my body and that's the strangest thing, it's like a light's gone on in that old darkened warehouse and I can suddenly see all of the wonderful things that have always been there.

I'm not letting my fear of mistakes stop me (not much), it's like having Tourette's of the feet, where I just can't get it out fast enough and it's all garbled. Now that I've accepted that I can dance then it gets even harder than the pain and frustration of when I believed I couldn't.

I'm fortunate to have friends I can share dance with whose personalities make me feel safe to be foolish, brave and explorative ( if that's even a word). It's like my writing - I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but something is and I can't wait to see where it leads me next.