A Cute Little Ballerina

Jun 17, 2018, 3:31 PM

Many years ago, my wife and I were in England and joined a tour which covered England, Scotland and Wales. Among those on the tour was a family from Australia, including a cute 14 year old daughter. The daughter and I became good friends and I learned she was a ballet dancer and while in England she was scheduled to audition for the Queen's Ballet soon after the end of the tour.

During the last day of the tour she came back and sat by me and asked for my postal and email address. I wished her much success and in a joking manner said to her. "if you ever come to New York to perform, I expect you let me know and invite me to be your guest". She looked at me and said, "if I make it to New York, it's a deal".

Soon after we arrived home, I had an email from her saying she did not make the Queen's Ballet but would continue her dancing career. We sent emails back and forth over the years and she kept me informed of her progress. Several years later, she came to New York to audition for the New York Ballet but was not accepted, however, she was invited to join the San Francisco Ballet.

Nine years later after we first met, now a beautiful 23 year old Ballerina, I received a call one day from her saying, "Mr. Joe21, the San Francisco Ballet will be performing in New York on (I don't remember the dates), I would like for you and Mrs. Joe21 to come and be my guests". WOW !!! That was a dream come true. And then I checked my calendar. I was scheduled to be in Boston on business during the entire time and there was no way I could go down one evening to see her perform. I called her and had to send my regrets. But that young lady meant it when she said, "it's a deal".

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Isn't it strange how we can remember some supposedly insignificant event from long ago in detail but can't remember what we would consider a significant event. I tend to believe we remember those things we concentrate on at the moment. For example. When I came home from Europe after WW2, I was stationed down near Marseille, France. I remember nothing about my going from Marseille to Le Havre to board the Santa Isabel. Same thing during the Korean War. I was at the 38th parallel when I received orders I was going home. I remember nothing about my trip from that point to where I boarded the Gen. Pope. After my wife's death, I was going through some of her things and discovered a telegram I had sent her letting her know I was barding a ship in Sasebo, Japan, to come home. I tend to believe my mental concentration was on going home, not how I got to the point of boarding a ship.

A Cute Little Ballerina

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