We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
This beauty was parked next to us in the Lincoln Center parking lot tonight. We went in with friends to see the Nederlands Dance Co. on one of their very rare visits to the US, at the David A. Koch Theater. All 3 performances were sold out, unsurprisingly, but we got lucky.
On the drive home, Mrs. BD delivered a fine exposition, on our demand, of what the intentions were of their new choreographer team (splaining that it was less about rhythm and more like talking in movement). Their 20-person troupe is remarkably skilled. Then the topic of Sophie Guillam somehow came up, so after that she waxed eloquent about Sophie Guillam's performance in Sleeping Beauty with the Royal Ballet, which she had taken a BD daughter to see in NYC a few years ago. Our daughter had said to her Mom in the lobby - "Mom - Look! There's a real Princess." Her Mom said "No, sweetie, somebody just dressed up for the opening," and then turned and looked and saw it was Princess Margaret dressed in princess clothes to the nines, jewels, tiara, and a long green gown with a couple of attendants and guards.
Daughter had just thrown a sun dress over her wet bathing suit, rushing from swim team practice, never having combed her wet hair. She certainly felt underdressed. It seems that was an immortal performance because Guillam could do things with Sleeping Beauty that nobody else alive could do. Guillam later switched to modern dance because she became bored with her mastery of Ballet technique and wanted new expressive challenges.
We had a nice seafood supper first at the Atlantic Grill down the street from Lincoln Center.
NYC is always a blast for us, a jolt of vitality, a change of pace.
Speaking of American Indians and ballet, legend Maria Tallchief died yesterday at age 88. Mrs. BD can clue you in on the details, but Tallchief spent from 1948 to 1965 at the New York City Ballet choreographed by George Balanchine, who became her husband for a few years.
I remember her there as the Sugar Plum Fairy in "The Nutcracker" ballet of the 1950's, but she later became the artistic director of the Lyric Opera Ballet in Chicago and lived in the same building as one of my friends. Rudolf Nureyev used to visit her and I once, while struggling to carry boxes to my friends apartment, impatiently asked a person drowning in furs to please hold the elevator's cage door for me. When a voice beneath the sables growled back at me, I looked around a carton to see the Russian glaring at me as I struggled into the small space. I didn't think he spoke much English, so I pardoned myself in French and we rode very slowly in the ancient elevator to the fourth floor where I dispatched the boxes and my being with an "merci" and "a bientot". He didn't crack a smile, but growled again.
I actually did see him later -- the next evening at a restaurant and
a few days later at a tailor. He couldn't quite place where we had met, but stared at me as if he was in a bad dream. (Sorry, I don't know how to attach the appropriate accent marks).