Like the “Lost In Space” robot, short circuited, arms flailing, I am confused. Tight-chested, my lungs are so tense that the air won’t come.
Feeling like the 21st-century, female version of Atlas, overwhelmed, yet simultaneously underwhelmed, I am tired. Reality hasn’t met expectations, but when do they, ever.
Desiring to be special, a treasure, someone’s beauty, like a well-worn baseball glove or a coveted pair of pumps, flats—shoes of any kind really— I am not.
Like the fabled Cinderella, cleaning, laundry, shopping, cooking, dishes some more laundry, yard work…. and if Cindy had kids, add in disciplining. I am Mom.
(written winter 1996, never published anywhere until now.)
How do you choose a hero? It seems that the word itself requires that the person have done a heroic act; this implies bravery, courage, leadership. For me, the choice transcends the simplicity, clarity of this definition. You see, their work and ideas feed my soul.
In retrospect, I have also realized that my choice of heroes required that they be alive and working during my lifetime. I need my heroes to be navigating the same complicated world that I am in. It seems that I need to be in the context that they are in. If my timeframe criteria weren’t in the mix, you could definitely add Rosa Parks and Jesus Christ to my list of heroes, among many others I am sure. Apparently I also can’t know my heroes personally, or I’d have to add my mom and husband to my list.
Since I was in my early 20s, I have had two heroes. I have had the thrill of meeting, and actually speaking with one of them…twice, actually! My heroes are nothing like me and for the most part, I don’t need or want to aspire to be them. But they have been a constant backdrop to my adult life and I am comforted that they are still doing what they do best. What my heroes have in common is that they are both performing artists.
Mark Morris is the artistic director of his own company, the Mark Morris Dance Group, which he founded in 1980 (he was 24 at the time). Since that time, he has choreographed more than 120 works including the most beautiful piece of art I have ever seen, felt, consumed: L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato. I met Mr. Morris the first time in 1990 when I was working at Jacob’s Pillow, the summer dance festival in the Berkshires. I was part of a team of summer staff that had the privilege of interviewing him. I was the oldest of all the summer staff and, I suppose not surprisingly, took the lead on the interview. Within an hour after the interview, his general manager (then Barry Alterman) came and told me that Mr. Morris wanted me to come work in his administrative offices. While that didn’t end up working out (I met Paul about two weeks later and my life went in another direction), I was elated that my brain, mind, thinking, personality was noticed by arguably one of the greatest dance minds of all time.
I also must note that I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Mr. Morris dance. He performed in Going Away Party at Jacob’s Pillow in 1990 and it was validating to know he was as unique in his qualities as a dancer as he is as a choreographer. It was also that summer that I got to sit in the JP gravel parking lot, sitting on a big rock with Mr. Morris’ mom, Maxine, drinking a beer and watching Fourth of July fireworks. We chatted about what it was like for her to raise Mark, and how much she enjoys being a part of his world. (Note: she was clutching her white pleather pocketbook whilst sipping her beer and gazing at the lights in the sky.)
The second time I spoke with Mr. Morris was after a performance in Fairfield during a talkback during which I actually got to tell him he was one of my two heroes. He was curious to know who my other hero is, but simultaneously didn’t want to know…he said he feared it would be Hitler and then he’d be tremendously disappointed!
Since this is getting long…I will devote my next post to my other hero.
