William Has Died

I had my audition last Sunday at Alvin Ailey for admission to the Cultural Traditions program at the School at Jacob's Pillow this summer. It went well, but I am now agonizing over the requirements of the application. The directors of Jacob's Pillow require applicants to mail, by March 17, the following:

• A resume which chronicles my "career" as a "dance artist". This is a perplexing requirement for me, since I have no such career -- I'm a marketing director at a big silly corporation, and I just dance for fun;
• A written statement of my goals/aspirations as a "dance artist";
• Two references from teachers/artists who can speak about my "work" as a "dance artist";
• Supporting documentation: programs, reviews, and articles about my "work".

Eek. I've been taking classes in afro-cuban dance, ballet, jazz, modern, and capoeira for the past 13 or so years. And I actually was in a dance company in Miami (Iroko Afro-Cuban Dance Theatre) and performed quite a lot in my late 20s. But I never DOCUMENTED anything I did. I never thought I'd have to, like, prove to anyone that I did what I did, because I was always doing it just for me. Sure, I danced with Albita and Gloria Estefan on stage, and at various museums and cultural centers and well known dance schools like New World, and on TV, but I don't remember times and dates and such. It's all just a blur of stuff to me.

So I dug up an old number I had for my dance teacher at Iroko in Miami, Elena Garcia. Thank GOD she answered the phone. We caught up, and she emailed me some details that will help me fill out what I did and where I was when. Thank the Lord.

But she told me something that I found very disturbing. One of the men who used to be a regular drummer with our dance troupe, William, just died recently. The cause was kidney failure.

William was a great musician. It was he who really taught me about the relationship between a dancer and a drummer. He did not do this consciously, and neither did I learn this consciously from him -- it just became apparent, in this organic manner, from our work. I never really truly knew William. I cannot even tell you his last name. I tried taking drumming class with him for awhile, to no avail. I'm a dancer, not a drummer. I receive what the drummers give me, and project it out through my body. That's all I know. And I felt that connection particularly strongly with William. He told me once I was his favorite dancer. He was my favorite drummer. He taught me so much that I'm just realizing now. It's funny how things just reveal themselves to you eventually. Someone might teach you something at some moment in time, but that teaching might reveal itself to you through one or more circumstances over many years, perhaps over a lifetime.

I realize I miss William, and I wish he hadn't died. I wish his kidneys hadn't failed, and that I could call him now and talk to him. Or dance for him, just one last time.

It's disturbing how people just disappear from your life, and from Earth, I guess. I should have kept in touch. I didn't.