A Step In The Right Direction

Dance has been my life.  My first memory is looking through the side of my playpen while my Mother taught tap lessons in our living room.  She kept a piece of old paneling behind our couch, pulled it out to the middle of our living room, cued up the 78 rpm records on the player, and taught time steps and off to buffalos.

I grew up taking every style of dance you can imagine.  My mother’s little living room dance class grew into one of the largest and most successful dance studios in Northern New York.  We traveled to cities and other states for workshops and conventions and competitions.

When I went off to college, I planned for my dancing to cease.  But, no.  I was President of the college dance company and found myself running off to the dance studio every chance I got.  I graduated in 1985 with an English Literature degree and a vow to NOT be a dancer.

After a few years in the “real world”, my mom called to say that the Army base, Fort Drum, was expanding back home.  Would I be interested in coming back and opening a studio?

Yes.  I would… for “ a little while”.

I got married, started a family.  My studio bloomed.  My mother’s studio continued to grow.  Looking back, I guess we were just dancing through life.

In early 2000, my mother began complaining of severe migraines.  She had suffered with headaches all her life, but these were different.  In February 2001, while she was babysitting my daughter, I got a call at my studio.  The ambulance was en route to her house.  She had carefully placed my 3 year old daughter on her bed, closed the door, and went to the opposite side of the house where she had a full blown seizure.

Within days, our world crumbled.  My beautiful, young mother had gioblastoma multi-form.  A rare and incurable brain tumor.

She battled for eight months.  In that time, I tried running her studios, my studios, taking care of my daughter, and I went through a divorce.  I was always tired, always sad, and feeling lost.

When my mother passed away in December of 2001, I didn’t know what to do or how to move forward.

Our dance studios were nationally competitive.  Trophies lined the walls and shelves.  Plaques were everywhere.  It was all hollow and empty and meaningless without her.  

In 2005, I decided to rework the studio concept.  My dance outreach company was born.  Our motto… Dance for others, Dance for self, Dance for life rings out on stage before every benefit show.  The dancers involved have raised over $40,000.00 for local people and groups in need.  To watch young dancers blossom before me, to see their faces when they raise $3,000.00 for a family with two blind sons or help a cancer patient warms my heart.

My dancers have become amazing teachers, performers, parents and have continued to take our spirit of giving and outreach with them and into the larger community of our world.  

My clogging company always dances in honor of my mother, who loved country clogging.  Their shirts say, “Dancing for Donna since 2001”... and I shed a tear every year at our final performance when I see them out on stage.

Starting an outreach company was more than a step in the right direction, it saved my soul.  It lightens my load.  It gives my art and my profession a purpose beyond any words.

In my mind, I can see my mom dancing along with us.  Her smile lights the entire stage.