Medals and Trophies

If you've read my dear wife's post, you'll know that recently we attended the Fred Astaire Medal Ball to see Quinn and Ralph (sister and brother-in-law respectively) do a showcase dance they've been working on for the past two years. Two years working through the emotional and physical (Ralph fractured a foot – not sure it was dance related) trials of getting a routine polished to the point it can be presented in front of an audience is a tribute to their dedication to dancing. I don't know if I'm that dedicated. Really, I don't like hard – it's hard. I want to give kudos to them for riding out the rough spots, mustering through, and pulling off the best show of the lot. Yes, I'm biased…so?

The Medal Ball gave me a chance to experience two new things: The Murat Shrine Arabian Room and an organized dance event where participating in the dance wasn't the main event. I'm all about new experiences; they open your mind and give you a new perspective. The Medal Ball definitely was no exception.

The Murat Shrine on Mass Ave was constructed in 1909; back about the same time the Indy 500 track was getting its first surfacing (gravel and tar) in preparation for an August opening. It's fashioned to look like a mosque, with faux prayer towers and striped masonry making the building a representation of all things exotic east (at least in the opinions of 1909's Shriner community). When I heard that the Medal Ball would be held in the Shrine I was thrilled. I'd always wanted to dance there and I had visions of ornate, gold-leaved opulence dripping from every wall and ceiling throughout the building. The reality was a lot less glamorous. We parked off North Street, walked across the lot to the main entrance, ascended a rather institutional looking set of stairs, and emerged in a cramped hallway just outside the Arabian Room where the event was to be held.

The Arabian Room is really very modern looking. A coffered ceiling with a night sky motif replete with fiber-optic twinkling stars is the outstanding feature of the space. The dance floor is parquet over (what felt like) a concrete slab and the walls are plain. The Medal Ball décor was very classy, a tasteful job, but the space was less than I expected. Maybe that's the down side of having a great love of historic spaces – whey they've suffered the indignity of what This Old House would call 're-muddling' I come away feeling a great and lingering sense of loss.

Beyond the space, the experience of a Medal Ball was a whole other thing. I've witnessed ballroom dance competitions on our local PBS station. They're interesting but edited with all the tender attention of a sausage making. Sections are hacked out of context and mashed together to fit into an hour time slot with no sense of continuity. This weekend I got a chance to see what happens at what I can only assume is a similar sort of event (even if it's not a competition). If you're going to be a part of a Medal Ball here's what you should expect: the evening will unfold as a series of testing out of medal levels, progressing from Bronze I through the highest level of student participating in testing out, then there will be showcases and demonstrations interspersed through the evening. If you're lucky there'll be a bit of open dancing between events.

Our interest, of course, was one particular showcase - Quinn and Ralph's. With luck their routine happened third in the rotation and (again in my totally biased opinion) was the high point of the evening. No other routine had people clapping to the music – so I'm taking that as my evidence.

It was an experience, seeing what goes into one of these events. In the past few months, Kelly and I have witnessed the steady ratcheting-up of stress. Our normally bubbly dance instructor grew more and more serious and the dance studio gradually went from calm to buzzing with nervous energy. Every lesson there were at least two couples practicing their routines and fretting over costumes, shoes, or that step they just couldn't nail. Several times one of the instructors told us we should do a routine next year – I don't know. It's an investment that shouldn't be undertaken lightly and I don't really know that I want to make my dance experience so serious. Dance to me is an escape and escaping into the pressure of an upcoming performance in front of a live audience when Kelly and I have already decided we're not into the 'medaling' experience…well, I don't know.