I've always snickered at people reminiscing "remember when..."
Typically these 2 words were the beginning of a long recollection of high school or college events. I have no fondness for my high school or college days. I felt forced to go to both. Looked at both as merely something to get out of the way to please my government and my mother.
But when I finally graduated, I was free, finally 100% free to do what I wanted with my life. And I soared.
I adopted a 10-wk kitten, all black, he was "this close" to be euthanized at the humane society. The staff lined up and cheered as he was carried from his cage to my lap. I named him Mikhail, called him Misha, and only spoke Russian to him.
I got myself a scholarship to a dance studio on the north side of Chicago. For the first time in my life....in 13 years of desperately wanting to study dance...I was free to study dance 9am-6pm Monday-Friday. All I had to do in exchange was sweep floors, wash mirrors, and be good. And write a paper here and there on dance legends. I learned about Katherine Dunham at that studio. And how she discovered a new genre of dance while working on her PhD in Anthropology at the University of Chicago. I decided if the dancing didnt' work out, I'd get my PhD in Anthropology from the University of Chicago. Maybe discover a new genre of dance. Maybe not.
I danced all day every day. Then on the weekends I danced more in rehearsals for shows. Late night drinks with fellow dancers. Home to my wee black kitten for fetch and mousies and Russian.
I got myself an apartment-- top floor of a 3-flat-- on Sheffield just north of Belmont. How convenient... My favorite hobby was dancing until 3am at the Avalon on Belmont. Just 2 doors East of Sheffield.
Rent was $230/month. I had a closet-less room in a 2 1/2 bedroom (I had the 1/2). I was able to move myself in 3 car trips.
Oh yea, this was after I landed an apprenticeship with a world class Graham company-- Joseph Holmes Dance Chicago. I still danced all day, rehearsed all day, swept floors, pulled pubic hairs out of shower drains, took out the garbage. Lived on bananas, peanut butter, yogurt, pasta. Cheap but filling for an athlete. Dream life for a dancer forbidden to dance until she finished college.
Then an audition for one of the best dance companies in the world- and the artistic director pointing me out the entire time. And him coming up to me a week later to gush about how beautiful a dancer I am. And how the only reason he didn't hire me was he needed to get a mature redhead and I was too young at 23. I immediately dyed my hair red and started booking dance jobs left/right.
Meeting Gwen Verdon. and Twyla Tharp. Playing with Lou's dog and impressing him with my knowledge of vet medicine.
And the owner of Avalon introduced me to the owner of The Vic. So I had myself an amazing bartending job where I made oodles of cash in 5 hr shifts. 1 block from home. Partied with legends of rock. Was set up with a famous comedian. Only to learn- as he asked me to go to Glee Club with him the following night- that he's gay. oopsie!
Members of Jesus and the Mary Chain making cocktails for me backstage at their Metro Show for which they gave me all-access passes. "You served us, so now we'll serve you!" How fun to watch beautiful Ken get to flirt with Hope Sandoval. He had such an adorable crush-
Dancing in a sun costume while my dear sweet friend, Ben, told the 6th graders in that south-side school all about the solar system. Laughing at the vast difference between the response of the rich white kids vs. the poor black kids. And how the poor black kids were definitely the more enjoyable audience.
Getting smashed at Market Days...Frank Orrall getting ready to spin on the corner of Halsted and Roscoe-- but the sky breaks open rain thrashes down upon us as we defy nature and continue to dance. And Frank defies electrocution and continues to spin. And everyone is wet and everyone is sweaty and everyone is drunk and everyone is giggling. and smiling. and happy. And it gets so dangerous with the lightening striking the small DJ stage, the music has to stop. But the dancing continues. and the bars are bursting. and the crowd is laughing. and wet. and sweaty. and smiling. and Halsted Street, from Belmont up to Addison thumps thumps until 4am as we continue to dance and sweat and drink and laugh and flirt and giggle.
And I sit here today in a generic coffee shop on Montana Avenue. 6 blocks from the Pacific Ocean. 2 blocks from home. A infinite distance from the laughing the dancing the sweating the smiling the giggling the drinking the flirting the spinning the music. The happy.
The eternal nights that last until we stumble to Nookies for a 6am breakfast before going home and to bed.
The cozy Saturday nights in January all bundled up with the kitties and some movies and the radiator banging heat into my wee historic landmark studio off Lake Michigan. The 11pm call from Heather "what are you doing?! I wanna get out! Meet me at Delilah's at midnight baby" I jump in the shower, put on my favorite dance clothes and grab a taxi in front of my building. 40 degrees below zero but I dont' need a coat. The Bailey's I put in my coffee while getting ready has deadened my skin's ability to read cold. Heather's sitting on a barstool dragging another puff from her Virginia Slim Ultra Slim Menthol Light. Rolling her eyes at the yuppies making fun of her tattoos and scars and combat boots. But we sit down and drink our martini's because the owner is a friend and it's sometimes more fun to be surrounded by yuppies tearing us down vs. hipsters supporting us.
And I scour the photos on Facebook. All the black and white images from Avalon, China Club, Shelter, Metro, Smart Bar...What happened to Augenblick? Henry? He's Liz Phair's favorite bartender...maybe she knows. I miss Henry and his late night after hours and his surprise order "the owner insists you drink these shots NOW!". I miss the snow. I miss struggling and fighting and laughing trying to get to the taxi in my wornout combat boots despite the 2 inch thick layer of ice and the winds so strong they literally blow me into the intersection.
And my heart hurts missing that happiness. And the success. and the hope. and the arrogance. and the spite. and the fire. and the rebellion. The hot coffee with baileys in a basement coffee shop on Dearborn. The soap-soaked skin in a club on Halsted. The random meetings with long lost friends both of us drunk at 2am and confessing we've loved each other since we were 13.
Don't bother mentioning high school or college. I'm so glad to put those behind me and forget them. But the 8 years between college and moving to LA. Those were the most glorious. Sometimes the most painful. But overall the most beautiful. It was the sunbeams that break through after a lifetime of rain. Rainbow years. I do wish I had a time machine to go back. Just for a week. Just so I can feel happiness.
To be reminded what it is to be happy.
