Last year, when Lily was in kindergarten, there would be mornings when the principal and school staff would crank up the tunes and get the kids motivated for school and learning. There was the Macarena and the Hootie Hoot dance, done for the school's mascot, a crazy looking owl who encouraged the kids to get moving and get in the school and learn something. And there was often Lily in tears or visibly trembling because I had somehow tried to move her little body into a wiggle or get her to feel the rhythm or the beat. She was mortified, frightened stiff by the thought of people seeing her dancing. Though she took ballet, she was rather shy about performing and certainly didn't want the "entire school" as her audience.
I spent my entire youth from four to seventeen in a dance studio. At some point in my life I would have told you that I'd hoped to be a dancer. I loved the freedom of movement, the spiritual and emotional freedom denied me in my home life, the letting go. Though I was shy to speak publicly (in the early years), I felt safe and comfortable with dance to communicate my connection to people, to everything really. I loved it and I was good at it, so that helped. When Lily began to show promise in dance, I assumed she'd want to put it all out there, so to speak, but she really saved it for the dance studio. I let it go as I didn't want to push my girl into anything that felt uncomfortable for her.
And then at the end of last school year came the drumming concert run by the music department. Lily stood center stage dancing to the rhythm of the maracas, the bongos, the congas, and a traditional drum kit. The girl had rhythm and timing and presence. I was beside myself. My girl shows her enthusiasm for things in different ways. Sometimes she does that bouncing off the walls-hitting the ceiling-talking a mile-a-minute craziness that grows grey hair instantaneously on my head and blows my brains out. That's usually reserved for parties, play dates, candy, ice cream. But other times she just quietly, knowingly feels something and lets it get into her soul. In those moments I can see the person she is and may become. I see what moves her and what she loves deeply.
When a friend and mother of one of Lily's former classmates asked if Lily would like to dance in the school's variety show while her son drummed, I said I'd ask her but was sure she was going to shout a resounding "Hell to the nah!" (in six year old terms, of course. Only Mommy uses swear words at home.) To my surprise, Lily not only wanted to participate, but she suggested other friends to join her and Funky Drummer and the Beats was born.
Lily is one of the Beats. She will be dancing with two girlfriends and a boy who is being dubbed "the Hype man," along to the drumming of their nearly seven year old friend, to De La Soul's track "The Magic Number" from Three Feet High and Rising, the seminal alternative hip hop record from the 80s that changed the game for me! I loved De La Soul. They were young guys (then, as I was a young gal), African-American, who had a style and sound that referenced so much, pop culture, black culture, love, harmony, peace, and connection. It was hip hop and it was fun. I became all "black medallions, no gold," saggy jeans, short natural, funky shoes and belts, vintage dresses, black rimmed glasses-styley. I went to the clubs to dance all night long and nothing made me feel more connected to my generation, to my people (and that meant eccentrics, artists, and musicheads and dancers as much as it meant Af-Ams), to my fresh-out-of-the-suburbs style.
The group convened in the drummer's basement for our first rehearsal. We were all excited and enthusiastic. And when I say we, I mean the kids and their parents or guardians. And when I say enthusiastic I mean, the parents were wary and weary but positive if not a little anxious to see how this would go, and the kids were bouncing off the ceiling and the walls. Every child needed about 75 attempts at the drums before they could get serious and by get serious I mean, look in one direction for more than 5 seconds. And when I say look in one direction I mean in the direction of the choreographer who, as you may now have guessed, is yours truly. D, the drummer's mama and S, the mother of one of the Beats, did all we could to corral this group. In the moment that I was astrally traveling to "anywhere but here" I was also so incredibly awed by the work of the world's educators. Are you kidding me? We had five (eight if you count siblings and in this instance they need to be counted) and were out of our minds. I was sweating before I did even one step. I snuck over to D's house one late afternoon and banged out the choreography with just D, Lily, the drummer, and myself so we'd have something to share for the next time we all got together.
Our second rehearsal had just the Beats with D and S there for support, encouragement, music tech, and management, and the nanny of one of the Beats who came along for moral support and a show of physical strength (more adults!). Our drummer, who practices every day, did not need to be with us and his absence forced the girls to get serious. And when I say serious I mean, they could not play the drums but they could, of course, continue to try to fly off the walls. We got a lot done that day and were able to put a YouTube video together to share with the other parents who would need to work out the routine and practice with their young dancers.
All the prep was for audition day, well, kind of, as all acts get in, but we were to put it on for the first time. D secured copies of the recording for all of us before we all met in front of the school for our scheduled 6:05 pm meeting. A good friend who lives across the street, spared my head more grey hairs by taking Virginie off my hands and letting her run wild with her kids so I could focus on the task at hand. We practiced in the hallway with all parents looking on. The Beats had the moves down. Our Hype man, cuter than anyone should be, was ready with some improvised moves of his own. Our drummer, skills honed, was ready to unleash. We made our way to the music room where the auditions were being held and were greeted with smiles, open hearts, kindness. The girls did not want me to lead them in the dance as they were pretty confident that they had it down on their own. The music started, the drumming began, and the Funky Drummer and the Beats tore it down. And when I say tore it down, I mean they were awesome! After all that sweating and back and forth emails and rehearsing and worrying, the kids were alright.
We'll rehearse once a week, work out our costumes and props, check in once more with a "callback" but we're in. Driving home last night, hallucinating about the glass of wine I was about to savor (read tear down), I thought of how great it was that this all came together. How happy I was to get to know these other women, their kids, our styles blending into the management team of this great group. We've got lots going on, but that's no reason not to add just one more. The kids are going to have a great time. The crowd will love them. And I am thankful that Lily is already willing to try and do new things. Both Lily and I have discovered new things about ourselves and sharing this experience with her is magic.
(c) Copyright 2012. Repatriated Mama: Back to the Suburban Grind.
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