9. Mrs. Kohut

I was 5. My mom signed me up for ballet lessons because I was pigeon toed. I don’t know if this was any help to my pigeon-toed-ness, but it was fun to dress up in a black leotard and pink tights, and especially to buy pink ballet slippers!

I went once a week to the YMCA where Mrs. Kohut greeted us all enthusiastically. You could tell this is exactly where she wanted to be. Playing ballet music on the record player while a million 5-year-olds pliéd and relevéd.

I heard whispers from the mothers that Mrs. Kohut had been treated for cancer. That she quit her regular job, and came to do what she always wanted to: teach ballet to little girls.

And here I am, 55 years hence, and I still have Mrs. Kohut in my brain. Because she made us feel special, because she loved what she did. Because she wanted to be there more than anywhere else.

In the middle of a noisy gym, surrounded by dancing girls, in a small town in New Jersey, it felt a little bit magical.

And you know what? I still love to dance in that magical way of little girls. And especially during COVID.  I often find myself with headphones on, music cranked, and limbs flying. In the living room, or the side yard, or walking down the street.

That is my small homage to Mrs. Kohut.