Saturday, March 17, 2007

Passing Twinkle

"We pass through moments in other people's lives."

This is one of my favorite lines in a book, from Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

About this time last year, I went to pay the mortgage at the bank that owns our house. It is conveniently located a block from the dance studio. I was all pumped up from my lesson that day, which happens sometimes, when we're working on a routine and it's gone well, or when we've nailed a new step and have been able to integrate into a little combination of steps. Or when we've just been able to open up and bust some moves, grinning all the way. This may have been a day when all of those things happened, as I'd just come from the Saturday dance party following a lesson.

People in Hayward are much friendlier than those with whom I stood in lines in Oakland. They chat with each other, and they don't look at me strangely when I say something to them like, "I've never had that cake, what's it like?" or "I really like your earrings." I said that to the lady who was standing in front of me in the long and slow teller line, and we started chatting. I don't remember exactly what she said, but it was along the lines her not having a very good week and she was feeling kind of low.

I said, because I love to dance, that when I feel that way, dancing always picks me right up. The inevitable questions followed: "What kind of dancing do you do?" and "Where do you dance?" So of course I told her all about the studio, and I guess my enthusiasm caught hold of her too because she said that she was going to go right over there and check it out.

I did actually see her a few times there but I never got to talk to her, because it was always when we were having a lesson and so was she. Then she disappeared. Then I saw her again at the grand opening when the studio moved to larger digs a couple doors south of the original studio. I knew that Daisey and Chris had sent announcement postcards to everyone who'd taken lessons there (we got one) and a lot of people I hadn't seen in awhile showed up (and then vanished again).

Well, today during the practice party I saw her again. This time she came up to me and asked, "Do you remember me?" I replied, "Yes, you're the lady from the bank!" She clasped my hands and thanked me for bringing her into the studio, and that maybe one day she would even compete.


Bink said...

Great story. Can you believe I've never read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? Thanks for reminding me of a book I've always meant to read - something to look for on my next trip to the library.

Tea said...

I love how even this smallest thing we do can have a huge impact on someone else.