The Gift of Giving
3/22/06
Tonight I took the mother of a friend to flamenco class. She is a tall, slender woman, in her 60's with bright blue eyes and a wonderful open smile. She's here, grandmothering her first and on meeting her a couple of weeks ago, I felt an instant connection. We had chatted, while her daughter gestated on the couch, about politics, vegan diets, men, childrearing, travel, dance, being a woman in modern society. In the light, airy apartment where my friend lives on a high floor looking out on this sometimes verdant city, I felt at home amidst the modern danish furniture and Lucien Freud-esque sketches. Vera, the mother is an art dealer from NYC and her daughter went to my high school, Friends Seminary, a few years ago it seems. I am closer in age probably to the elder and loved feeling sandwiched between these two feisty females. Vera was baking something whole-wheaty and caramel smelling when I arrived and served Roastaroma tea, which brought back such memories of the funky 70's, Whole Earth Catologue adn Diet for a Small Planet. On a plate she offered the 70% dark cacao chocolate I had brought with a small bowl of raisins, pecans and almonds. I fell in love with her on the spot. My favorite combo of treats, offered by a woman with what I could feel is an enormous heart. She sat and massaged her daughter's feet and I marveled at the intimacy and ease of their relationship, so unlike mine with my mother.
Somehow, rolfing and getting turned on to Flamenco came up and I told Vera she should look up the Ballet Hispanico in NYC; I thought she might enjoy the dance. When her daughter called today to report on the happy birth of her baby boy, I offered to take Vera to class tonight and she joined us. It was like taking an eager kid to their first kindergarten class. She was enchanted and I loved seeing how engaged she felt by the music and our own experience. We're a hodge-podge of shapes, ages and abilities, but addicted and dedicated to these rhythms that speak to different parts of us as we pound away with our feet and clack away on castanets. You either get flamenco, or you don't. And Vera got it.
I drive her back to her daughter's apartment and can tell she's got the bug. She shared she'd been feeling a need for change. A former flight attendant, mother and still wife, she has been taking care of people all her life and now wants something for herself. I urged her to find a class in NYC when she returns and she gave me the biggest hug in thanks for sharing a passion which someday could be her own. How often do we get the chance to share our loves and feel they have been truly received? And if the gift is in the giving, I got good tonight. Gracias.
Tonight I took the mother of a friend to flamenco class. She is a tall, slender woman, in her 60's with bright blue eyes and a wonderful open smile. She's here, grandmothering her first and on meeting her a couple of weeks ago, I felt an instant connection. We had chatted, while her daughter gestated on the couch, about politics, vegan diets, men, childrearing, travel, dance, being a woman in modern society. In the light, airy apartment where my friend lives on a high floor looking out on this sometimes verdant city, I felt at home amidst the modern danish furniture and Lucien Freud-esque sketches. Vera, the mother is an art dealer from NYC and her daughter went to my high school, Friends Seminary, a few years ago it seems. I am closer in age probably to the elder and loved feeling sandwiched between these two feisty females. Vera was baking something whole-wheaty and caramel smelling when I arrived and served Roastaroma tea, which brought back such memories of the funky 70's, Whole Earth Catologue adn Diet for a Small Planet. On a plate she offered the 70% dark cacao chocolate I had brought with a small bowl of raisins, pecans and almonds. I fell in love with her on the spot. My favorite combo of treats, offered by a woman with what I could feel is an enormous heart. She sat and massaged her daughter's feet and I marveled at the intimacy and ease of their relationship, so unlike mine with my mother.
Somehow, rolfing and getting turned on to Flamenco came up and I told Vera she should look up the Ballet Hispanico in NYC; I thought she might enjoy the dance. When her daughter called today to report on the happy birth of her baby boy, I offered to take Vera to class tonight and she joined us. It was like taking an eager kid to their first kindergarten class. She was enchanted and I loved seeing how engaged she felt by the music and our own experience. We're a hodge-podge of shapes, ages and abilities, but addicted and dedicated to these rhythms that speak to different parts of us as we pound away with our feet and clack away on castanets. You either get flamenco, or you don't. And Vera got it.
I drive her back to her daughter's apartment and can tell she's got the bug. She shared she'd been feeling a need for change. A former flight attendant, mother and still wife, she has been taking care of people all her life and now wants something for herself. I urged her to find a class in NYC when she returns and she gave me the biggest hug in thanks for sharing a passion which someday could be her own. How often do we get the chance to share our loves and feel they have been truly received? And if the gift is in the giving, I got good tonight. Gracias.
posted by Barbery at 9:20 PM
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