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.

2 comments:

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.