June 2023
Here are
the first two chapters from Magic Carpet Ride: The Disco Years.
Rick Archer
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MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
the disco
years
CHAPTER ONE:
RUBAIYAT
Written by Rick
Archer
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INTRODUCTION TO THE MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
THE
DISCO YEARS
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Rick
Archer's Note:
I have written five memoirs to explain how
I acquired my unshakeable belief in Fate.
I have been the beneficiary of well over 100
remarkable experiences, many of which defy
explanation given our scientific view of
Reality. While there is no way to make
an ironclad case for the existence of God,
my List of Suspected Supernatural Events makes it
difficult
for even the most ardent skeptic to find
plausible explanations.
My first book, A Simple Act of
Kindness, covers the events of my
difficult childhood.
My fifth book, Gypsy Prophecy,
explains how the 2001 meeting aboard a
cruise ship with my future wife Marla was
foretold by an undeniable case of
Precognition.
My middle book, Magic Carpet Ride,
is covers a ten-year span,
1974-1983. It was so long that I
divided into three: The Lost Years,
The Disco Years,
The Western Years.
The Lost Years
covers the three year period following my
1974 dismissal from Graduate School.
Considering myself an abject failure, I had
no idea what career to pursue next.
Furthermore, I was so broken from my
miserable year at Colorado State, I lacked
any ambition to start something new until I
was certain what I wanted. For three
years I worked as a social worker
investigating child neglect. Although
this job was very depressing, it allowed
me to wander around as I tried to overcome the debilitating emotional
problems that had caused my dismissal.
At the end of this three year period, my
strange obsession with
dance lessons led to a very unusual job
opportunity.
This job opportunity is where we pick up our
story in The Disco Years. This
book
covers the start of
my accidental dance
career. I never set out to become a dance instructor.
It was a giant surprise to me in 1977 when a
series of three consecutive dance positions
came open without asking for a single
one. The next thing I knew, I was in
the right place at the right time when
Saturday Night Fever debuted in 1978.
On
the day
Saturday Night Fever hit Houston,
I was a rookie unknown, an amateur with
little training who was overwhelmed by this
sudden
deluge of students. Why so many
students given my total absence of
reputation? It turned out I was the only Disco teacher in the city.
Given my lack of dance skills and social
skills, Vegas odds gave me a 1% chance to
succeed in a field for which I was poorly
suited. Yet succeed I did.
By the end of my first year, I had created the
largest dance program in the city.
Although I was very pleased to do so well,
in the privacy of my mind I was
convinced what I had accomplished was far
beyond my talent level. Indeed,
The Disco Years will reveal how a
series of strange lucky breaks allowed me to
overcome one obstacle after another that
were seemingly beyond my ability. In
my heart, I firmly believed someone up there
must like me because I had no business
getting this far. But who I was
supposed to tell? I had no idea why I
was so lucky. Nor did I have any idea
where these doors were leading me. So
I kept my beliefs to myself and forged on.
A very curious aspect of my stories is the
Epic Losing Streak. It gives me no
pleasure to reveal I was the proverbial flop
with chicks. A quick glance at my
track record supports this claim. I
never had a date in high school. After
a disastrous one-month relationship, I never dated again
in college. My one
shining moment came at age 24 with a
nine-month relationship. However, once
I hit graduate school, things fell apart.
Over the next four years, I had three
one-month relationships, nothing longer.
So there you have it: In 28 years, one
9-month relationship, 4 one-month
relationships.
What is odd about the Epic Losing Streak is
that my difficulties with women were responsible for placing
me on the threshold of
a 40-year dance career. Think about
how strange that sounds. This is not
your typical 'Dance Stud' success story. Not even hardly.
Ordinarily
one would expect a tale about some spunky street kid who could
dance up a storm and win the big dance contest.
Naturally one imagines a good-looking guy like Patrick
Swayze or John Travolta
with lots of girl friends and plenty of envious buddies along
for the ride. Guess again. That ain't me, babe. In a
curious twist, I was the exact opposite of Patrick Swayze,
closer to Quasimodo than Adonis. And how do I know this? Patrick's mother Patsy
was my friend (and teacher) for two years. Patsy was candid
enough to tell me the truth... I lacked the natural ability
to become a success in the world of
performing dancers.
Stick to sales or computer programming.
Nevertheless, against all odds I owned the largest social
dance program in Houston. But
then it all came unraveled. At the end
of 1979, I was down to about 30 students
from a high of 500. What went wrong?
Well, that is a very interesting story.
I will give you a hint: Urban Cowboy,
the subject of Book Three, The Western
Years,
Due to the death of the Disco Era in
Houston, I was in serious trouble.
Not only did I despise Country-Western
music, my single visit to a country-western club
revealed a
very distressing fact. Country-Western
dance
was so easy to learn that no one needed
lessons. I am telling the truth.
The Texas Twostep was so simple it took me
less than five minutes to learn.
People take dance lessons when it is too difficult to
learn on their own. How exactly was I
going to extend my career as a dance teacher
if there was nothing to teach? So what
did I do? I used my experience as a
Disco teacher to make Western dancing much
more
complicated. Now that people needed lessons in
order to enjoy the Urban Cowboy-inspired
Western Era, my career was saved.
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RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF
SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS
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Carl Jung, the
famous Swiss psychotherapist, was quoted as saying, "When
coincidences pile up in this way, one cannot help being
impressed. The greater the number of terms in such a
series, or the more unusual its character, the more
improbable it becomes."
When I was 18,
over a one year period I experienced four of the most
remarkable coincidences, one of which I considered a
religious experience. To be honest, I was never quite
the same. What in the world is going on with my life?
I began reading books about mysticism. In Carl Jung's
autobiography, he suggested keeping a List of every strange
thing that happens as way to understand there is more to
this world than meets the eye. I took his advice.
By the time I reached age 50, my List crossed the "100
Threshold".
Since Event #59
takes place in Chapter Seven of this book, I will use it to
demonstrate what my List looks like:
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MAGIC CARPET RIDE: THE DISCO YEARS |
059 |
Serious |
Lucky Break
Coincidence
Synchronicity |
1978 |
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Crossroad Synchronicity:
Leap of Faith from 3 years earlier
becomes validated.
Rick is shocked to discover he is in the Right Place at the Right Time when SNF
arrives.
Courses a la Carte
Spotlight Effect
makes Rick the best-known Disco teacher in Houston.
The Surprise Factor makes Rick the
One in a Million Dance Teacher.
The Mediocrity Effect and Lost Years Preparation makes Rick unusually effective
right from the start. |
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REGARDING THE
USE OF
HINDSIGHT
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Life can only be understood backwards; but it
must be lived forwards.
-- Soren Kierkegaard
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A feature that separates my books from what
people expect in the usual memoir is my
heavy reliance on Hindsight. As an
example, the Crossroad Synchronicity
can only be understood through the use of
Hindsight.
How is it possible for an unknown rookie
dance teacher working at an obscure studio
to become the only Disco teacher in
America's fourth largest city? Why
were droves of students coming to me, a
complete nobody?
Quite frankly,
I had no explanation at the time.
Little did I know a stupid clerical error created the
Spotlight Effect which launched my Magic
Carpet Ride. Once I finally discovered the missing
piece of the puzzle, the
startling events of January 1978 finally
made sense. Now we see why Soren Kierkegaard says Life can only be understood
backwards. But here's the problem.
It took me four months to figure it out.
Let's say the Reader would like to know
the answer to the mystery of the Spotlight
Effect. Should I make the Reader wait for
ten chapters or would it be better to share
the answer immediately? My guess is
that most people would prefer
knowing the answer now while the details are
fresh. This is why I repeatedly place
Narrative
and Hindsight in back to back chapters.
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In 1898, Morgan
Robertson wrote a book titled The Wreck of the Titan.
The details of this book were so similar to the actual 1912
sinking of the Titanic it looked like Robertson had ripped
the story from newspaper headlines. Yes, you have read
this correctly. Robertson book appeared 14 years
BEFORE the tragedy. However, Robertson
had fits getting his book published. Why? Every
rejection letter said the same thing: No one will
ever believe this story.
When I started
writing Magic Carpet Ride, I used the usual
linear style with no Hindsight added. "Well, first
this thing happened which was really strange. It led to
something else that was odd that led to something else that
was odd, etc." I asked a buddy to read a chapter. His
response?
"Rick,
forget it. No one's ever going to believe this."
Stunned at
first, I began to see his point. My life was too weird
to make for pleasant reading. That was the moment I
realized my book should not be about me, it should be about
Fate. Rather than expect my readers to grasp the
supernatural overtones by reading between the lines, my new
focus spelled it out in bold letters... "This is why
I think what happened was a supernatural event."
The
Impact of a strange event is
rarely obvious at the exact moment it occurs. For
example, the Crossroad Synchronicity made
absolutely no sense to me when it took place. By the
time I finally grasped the Big Picture, my understanding
took place ten chapters later. Realizing there is no
way for a Reader to remember the details well enough for an
explanation ten chapters later to be clear, I realized
Hindsight must closely follow Narrative to be informative.
This decision
solved a major problem.
The Reader would no longer be forced to wait
countless chapters before I finally reached the point where
I figured out what was going on behind my back. By
that time, the Reader would have forgotten the details from
the original story.
Unfortunately,
there is a drawback to this technique. Hindsight robs
my books of much suspense, a situation I dearly regret.
As we shall see, the Reader will often know what will happen
next well in advance. For example, in The Lost
Years I explained how I took dance lessons for three
years without any
idea I was secretly preparing for a future dance career.
Although I was blind to what was going on behind my back, the
use of Hindsight revealed the secret well ahead of time.
So why make such
heavy use of Hindsight and ruin the surprise? What is the
purpose?
Because I decided these books are not about me, these books are
meant to reveal how I came to believe in the existence of
Fate. For example, in The Disco Years I
will explain how I came to believe my Accidental dance career was
no accident at all, but rather the fulfillment of Destiny.
The best way to make this point clear is tell what happened
from two perspectives... my
understanding of the event as it took place as
well as how I came to view the event
further down the road.
Why do I think a
knowledge of Fate is important? In my opinion,
the existence of Fate implies
the existence of God. To me, that knowledge has the
ability to completely change a person's outlook on the
meaning of life. The moment I accepted that the Will
of God plays a guiding role in my life, I became a much
happier person. A belief in Fate made it easier to accept the
bad with the good.
But first I had
to prove the existence of Fate to myself. As I
mentioned earlier, I found the
ideas of Carl Jung to be very
compelling.
Dr. Jung asked how is it possible for
psychics to predict the future based on our prevailing view
of Reality. I
decided to pay close attention to what Jung had
to say. In particular, I noticed his emphasis
on Coincidence.
"The problem of Synchronicity has puzzled me for
a long time, ever since my middle twenties when
I was investigating the phenomena of the
collective unconscious. I kept on coming
across connections which I simply could not
explain as chance groupings. What I found
were 'Coincidences' which were connected so
meaningfully that their chance concurrence would
represent a degree of improbability that would
have to be expressed by an astronomical figure."
On a personal note, my List includes
four experiences where I sensed something was about
to happen well in advance of the event itself.
One of those events involved a prediction of how I
would meet my future wife. As my List of
Suspected Supernatural Events grew,
I became
convinced the
paranormal phenomenon known as
Precognition is legitimate. Science is deeply unhappy
about Precognition. Our current laws of physics cannot
explain how someone can know about an event before it
occurs. And yet there is a great deal of anecdotal
evidence to suggest Precognition exists.
The reason
Precognition is important is that it suggests certain events
in our life are scheduled to happen and that our Higher Self
occasionally gives our conscious mind a glimpse of the
future. While I understand the concepts of
Precognition and Predestination makes most people very uncomfortable, it does
not bother me. The way I see it, the existence of Fate
implies the existence of God. In turn, the existence of God
implies an Order and Benevolence to the Universe that I find
comforting. No matter how bad things are here in the
Material World, it is nice to know a Higher Power is in
control. Hopefully I have
aroused your curiosity. I say that because The
Disco Years begins with a story that implies Precognition.
That concludes the Introduction; let's get started.
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April 6, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
dreaming about
my future |
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Elena, my office
secretary, loved to go dancing in the Disco clubs.
However, since I did not know her very well, I had no idea.
One day I heard a good dance song playing on her radio when
I went in to hand Elena some case notes for typing.
Without
thinking, I did a simple side-touch, side-touch dance step
to the tune. Elena squealed with delight. "Ricky
Ricardo, I had no idea you knew how to dance!" This
was the moment we discovered our mutual interest in Disco. The moment
Elena found out I took dance
lessons, she insisted I keep her posted on every new move I
learned.
On Wednesday,
April 6, Elena asked me about a particularly
tricky dance move so she could teach it to her boyfriend. Pleased by my explanation, out of
the blue Elena suggested that I should be a dance teacher.
It was just an off-hand remark, but I took it as a good
omen. I had spent the past six months working
up the courage to ask Rosalyn Lively, my line dance teacher,
to let me briefly teach a line dance
pattern that I had cooked up. However, I was so
certain Rosalyn would say no, my fear of rejection had
stopped me.
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Elena's kind
remark was just what I needed to
give me the courage to ask Rosalyn
for permission. So I approached Rosalyn that same
night after class for permission to substitute. To my
surprise, not only did Rosalyn say yes, she said I could
teach next week's class for the entire hour.
On Wednesday night, April
13, a bomb scare at the Jewish Community Center interrupted
my class the very moment I was about to play my first song.
Instantly the room emptied. Stunned to see my moment of glory evaporate in
such a cruel way, I was in for yet another surprise.
Once I reached the parking lot, my students asked me to
continue teaching right there in the JCC parking lot.
Dancing in the moonlight proved to be a lot more fun that I
could have ever imagined. The students all had grins
on their faces and Rosalyn praised my work. I was on
Cloud Nine that night as I drove home. Things had gone
much better than I had any right to expect.
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The next morning
at work, Elena spotted me.
She knew how important last night had been, so she
immediately asked how my dance class had turned out. I
said it went really well. I told her about the bomb
threat and how I didn't let it stop me. Then I added
that I thought the students liked my class.
Elena grinned. "You've got to be kidding,
mister.
You? They liked you? I've seen you dance. You are such a big clod that I don't believe it. I bet
they just felt sorry for you. Here, I have an
idea. Show me what you taught last night and I will tell you
whether it was any good or not."
Elena
came out from behind her desk and we both peeked
around the corner like co-conspirators. Once we
were sure our supervisor had not arrived yet, I showed her my pattern.
"That's a pretty
cool pattern, Rick. Who taught it to you?"
"Hey, I made this one up
myself!"
Elena laughed.
"Get out. Sure you did. I don't believe you.
We've been through this before.
You will say anything to impress me."
I picked up a ruler and
threatened to spank her. "You better believe me or you'll be
sorry!"
Elena put her hands up
in defense and laughed again.
"You don't want to hurt me!
That would be bad luck because I am your inspiration! I was the
one who told you to become a dance instructor.
Without me, you would still be a nobody. I'll expect some more moves next week. Don't let me down,
vato."
And with
that, Elena retreated to the safety of her desk while I
headed to my office with a huge grin on my face.
Her laughter meant the world to me. By forgiving
me for letting her down back in February, Elena's warmth indicated that I had done the right thing
that night in a very tricky situation. Now that we were
friends again, Elena had given me a huge boost of
confidence. For all her teasing, Elena believed in me.
During these past three Lost Years since being tossed
from Graduate School, my confidence had been pretty low. Now
after last night's success, maybe I wasn't such a loser after all. I felt like I had turned a corner in my life.
Out of
nowhere, a strange frenzy possessed me. I
decided right then and there to create a syllabus just
in case a dance class of my own knocked on my door one of
these days. I understood this was a likely
waste of time, but once the idea popped into my head, it
became a form of Automatic Writing. Imbued with a
sense of urgency, creating
this syllabus was something I had to do!
This was a special
moment, a definite reawakening of my long-lost sense of achievement. Once
upon a time, I had a world of ambition inside of me.
Unfortunately my failures in graduate school had killed most of that ambition.
More recently my
inability to accomplish much in my Child Neglect job had turned the lights even
dimmer. However, last night's success plus Elena's
support had brought my ambition roaring back to life. Right
now I wanted to be a dance teacher so badly it hurt!! Like a
jockey in a horse race, I suppose I had just spotted my opening.
Time to make my move! On the spot, I was possessed by an
overwhelming desire to prepare for an imaginary dance class. I
spent the next two hours concocting a syllabus using patterns Becky,
Rosalyn and Patsy had taught me. I feverishly typed out a three-page syllabus for a
two month course complete with detailed lesson plans for each class.
When I finished, I
looked at my creation with great pride. But my bubble
popped when Reality rudely interrupted my reverie. What was I
thinking?? I was a one-time-only substitute teacher. I
had taught an insignificant class in a parking lot with no promises
of a next time. Nevertheless, my passion was already racing
ahead. I had just spent two hours
creating a syllabus for a class that did not exist.
Why was I putting the cart in front of the horse?
The answer was simple... Dreaming about teaching a dance
class made me happy! But what were the
chances? Pretty remote. With a
huge sense of regret, I put my syllabus
in my desk drawer and got back to work.
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Tuesday, April 19, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
fate knocks on
my door
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It was Tuesday
evening, April 19.
I was in the
middle of playing a volleyball
game at the
Jewish Community Center.
Six days had passed since my Bomb Scare class. I
glanced over and noticed a
woman had just entered the gym. How could I not
notice? I had been playing volleyball here
for three years. So far, only one woman had ever been in here. Was this
my imagination or was that Rosalyn? Yes, it was.
My heart started
to beat fast.
What is Rosalyn doing here?
I was so disconcerted by
Rosalyn's appearance that I let the volleyball go right
over my head without reacting. Seeing the
bewildered expression on my face, my older friend Buddy laughed.
Buddy guessed the approaching woman was the reason.
"Okay,
Rick, how
much trouble are you in? Do
you need me to give you an excuse?"
I laughed. "No,
Buddy, that's not my girlfriend. However Rosalyn is pretty important."
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Rosalyn came
over to the sideline and sat down on the bleachers. I waved to let
her know I had seen her. I think Rosalyn
understood I was in the middle of a game, so she watched me play with a bemused smile.
Several minutes passed. What
in the world is
she doing
here? Then
I froze. As crazy
as it seemed, suddenly I KNEW I was about to
receive the answer to my prayers.
I couldn't
stand it, so I stopped playing and asked a man sitting
out the game to step in for me. Whatever
Rosalyn had to say, I had to know now.
As I walked
over to her seat, Rosalyn
smiled, a good omen to be sure.
"Hi Rick, I
had an idea I would find
you here. You told me you practically live at the JCC,
so I took a chance. I was very impressed with
your class
last week. I've been mulling over an offer to take a summer
sabbatical in Washington, DC, and my supervisor has already approved it.
So far I have hesitated taking the opportunity because I have a commitment to teach
my Line Dance class at the JCC this summer. Your performance last week
may have solved my problem. Would you like to
substitute for me this summer and teach
my class?
That way I can accept my sabbatical with a clear conscience."
My spine
tingled with eerie excitement. This was exactly
what I had hoped for!
"Yes, of
course, Rosalyn! I would love to teach that class.
Thank you so much for thinking of me!"
Rosalyn had made a special trip to the JCC just to ask me.
She could
have waited till tomorrow night's class to ask, but she was just as
excited to go to
Washington as I was to accept her offer. Rosalyn had just
granted me my heartfelt wish, but it crossed my mind
that she saw me as the answer to her own heartfelt wish.
Until I stepped forward last week, Rosalyn did not have
an acceptable backup. I could not tell who was more
excited, me or her. Probably me. I was
ecstatic. Rosalyn grinned at my obvious enthusiasm.
"I am so glad you offered to substitute last week.
That really solves a problem for me. Besides, I can't
imagine
anyone more qualified to pinch-hit. You probably know my
patterns better than I do."
What a
wonderful thing for Rosalyn to say. I was about to
give her a mammoth hug, but Rosalyn flinched in
horror. Who could blame her? I was
dripping wet. After we both laughed at her close
call, I leaned over and kissed her politely on
the cheek instead.
Rosalyn
said, "I will see you tomorrow night. We can
talk more then."
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As I
watched Rosalyn walk away, I was too stunned for
words. My Dream had just come true. I have no
idea how I knew, but "I Knew".
Here's the funny thing. I later discovered
Rosalyn had just found out about her Washington,
D.C., opportunity this morning. That is why
she had rushed to the JCC tonight because her boss
wanted an answer. In other words, it was a
serious coincidence that my big break took place at
the same time as her big break to solve each other's
problem. How strange was that?
Furthermore, regarding the syllabus I had created last week, did my soul know something my
conscious mind didn't? It sure felt that way.
Without any idea this summer opportunity was a
possibility, I had spent two hours last week writing
a syllabus for a dance class that did not exist.
Why would I do this? Because the dream of
teaching had been so tangible in my mind.
Precognitive? That is what I believe.
Ordinarily the answer to a prayer does not materialize
overnight, but in my case it did. When Fate is
involved, anything is possible.
The
Lost
Years were over. The Magic Carpet
Ride was about to begin.
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Wednesday, April 20, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
SPREADING THE NEWS
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The
morning after Rosalyn told me the good news, I told
Elena what happened at volleyball last night. First I got a big smile, then came the usual
teasing.
"Ricky
Ricardo, this
was my idea. I told you to become a dance instructor,
so you owe
this all to me! Be sure to put me in your book when you become
famous. And be sure you say something nice about me.
Tell everyone my beauty reminds you of Helen of Troy."
I laughed. "I don't know about the 'famous' part,
Elena. That might be
stretching things a bit. However, if I ever write a book, you
will definitely be in it. Consider it done."
That same evening I
drove by Patsy Swayze's studio hoping to catch her.
She was very excited for me. Patsy gave me a hug, then stepped back
to look me over with the biggest grin.
"Rick, I think you'll do great.
You have an unusual ability to make me laugh. You were very
shy when I first met you, but once you get going, you are quite a
character. If I have one piece of advice, you should give free rein to your sense of
humor."
What an odd thing to
say. How did she know that about me? But it was true.
When I taught my Bomb Scare class the previous week in the parking
lot, I had no trouble
coming up with quips and observations that kept my parking lot group
amused. They especially liked it when I teased them. They laughed so hard one would think they were
moonstruck.
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From Patsy's office, I drove to
the Jewish Community Center.
An hour before Rosalyn's
Wednesday class started, I visited Allen and Polly Clark. I
had been close to Allen and Polly and their three kids since I was
11.
They were better parents to me than... well, you know what I mean. Since their house sat right next to the JCC, this was the perfect
chance to tell them what had happened. I told them about
last week's Bomb Scare class and last night's request from Rosalyn to
teach her summer class. Allen and Polly were very happy for
me. Three years ago, my dismissal from graduate school had
taken place at the end of May 1974. Devastated, upon my return
to Houston I asked if I could stay with them for a while and try to
regroup.
Polly replied, "Oh my
gosh, of course you can stay with us. But with three kids we
don't have a guest room. Would you mind sleeping on the living
room couch?"
Of course I didn't mind.
I would have slept in their laundry room if that was the only spot
available. And so I crashed on their couch for an entire
month. That was exactly the sanctuary I needed. At the
start of July I found a job and moved out the next day. Polly pointed out it had been June 1974 when I had slept
on Couch Catatonia for an entire month and that my line dance class would start
in June 1977. I nodded. I had come full circle. These past
three years had been the Lost Years, a really tough time for me. Back in those days
of gloom and doom, who could have imagined something this
exciting would happen? Who knows, maybe my luck had turned.
The following day was my
weekly visit to see Gaye Brown-Burke, my therapist and mentor. When I told her about the
developments, she
positively beamed with pride.
Gaye said I had been so cheerful lately she barely recognized me any more.
"Are you sure
you aren't Rick's long-lost twin? Where has that moody,
sarcastic, self-absorbed boy gone to?"
I smiled, but said
nothing, adding a sheepish shrug instead. At this point, Gaye became serious.
"Rick, you are certainly not the only
person in this world who ever suffered through a miserable
childhood. However, a tough childhood is not an excuse to give up.
For the past year and a half, I have watched you fight your way through all
kinds of fears. You get knocked down, you feel sorry for
yourself, but you always get back up. I admire your will to conquer these fears.
You have made incredible progress."
Gaye paused a moment,
then added something else with a wry smile. "Incidentally, you still have a ways to
go."
I grinned. "Don't
you ever cut me any slack?"
"No, but I have
a reason to chew you out. I believe
in you. Once I get you straightened out, you might
actually accomplish something in this world."
I did not reply, but
nodded with a faint smile. Gaye's words left a deep impression on me.
I very much would like to accomplish something. This
summer dance class seemed like a good place to start.
|
Wednesday, June 15, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
Rick's teaching
career begins
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|
The date was Wednesday,
June 15. As I drove to the
Jewish Community Center to begin teaching my summer class, I
could barely contain my excitement. My summer Disco Line Dance course consisted of 10 one-hour classes. I was pleased to see the
class had 30 students, an excellent enrollment.
After introducing myself, I got right to work. I taught my first
class as if I had been teaching
all my life. Thanks to my
experience
a couple months earlier when I substituted for Rosalyn, this time I wasn't fazed by teaching with
my back turned to the class. Rather than keep my back turned
the whole time, I simply turned around and addressed the class
directly whenever I felt like being sociable. I took satisfaction in
my teaching ability. My analytical mind had been a curse when
it came to learning to dance, but it was a gift when
teaching dance. I broke down the steps in a way that made
it easy for beginners to grasp. I had a much different
teaching style
than Becky and Rosalyn. Both women were all business. Not
me. As Patsy suggested, I turned my sense of humor
loose.
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Whenever there was too
much silence, I enjoyed goofing around with the class. For
example, I would invariably ask if anyone had a
question. If no one answered, I
would ask, "Was the last dance pattern too hard or too easy?"
If no one answered, I
would ask, "Does anyone think the Houston
Oilers will win the World Series?"
Invariably someone would
take the bait. "You must be confused, Rick. The Oilers
are a football team."
"Yeah, I know. I
just wanted to see if anyone actually listens to me."
And people would crack
up.
I made all sorts of silly quips to keep
things light. I did it because I wanted my
students to get in the habit of speaking up. The more they
participated in their class, the higher the energy. I teased people
whenever something
funny happened. They teased me right back when I messed up.
One time I started a line dance in the wrong direction and they
jumped all over me.
"Why are you all being
so hard on me? That was my first mistake in ten years of
teaching dance."
"You told us this
was the first class you have ever taught."
"Yeah, but I was
including the final 9 years from my previous lifetime.
Disrespectful students like you were the death of me."
Back and forth it went.
One reason I was successful was my experience around the older
Jewish men from the volleyball league. Although I am not
Jewish myself, I definitely liked their style. Jewish humor
includes the fine art of insult. I made sure to pick on every
mistake, but always in a fun way.
"Jeffrey, you don't know
your left foot from your right. Next week I want you to wear
different colored shoes so I can tell you which color shoe to move next."
"What if I am
color-blind?"
"In that case, take
your left shoe off and start with your bare foot when I tell you."
"But that would
be embarrassing."
"Tough, learning to
dance isn't for sissies. Quit your whining."
"Why are you
always so mean to us?"
"Because all you guys
ever do is complain. Why do you think the regular teacher left
for the summer? She couldn't take it anymore."
One night it occurred to me this
classroom banter had originated with Elena. Due to morning
meetings our supervisor often showed up an hour late. Elena
would grab me and demand that I show her any new moves I had learned
lately. Elena loved to give me a hard time. That was her
style. We would argue and
tease when no one was looking. Good grief, I had thought I was
using my time with Elena as a way to overcome my shyness. I
was trying to learn how to talk to pretty girls, but all that teasing Elena and I
had shared had inadvertently prepared me to tease the people
in my dance
class as well. Kind of strange how that worked out. A
Silver Lining perhaps. It fascinated me
that I
could talk about anything under the sun with my dance students, yet I
turned into a clam around a woman close to my age. Furthermore
it made no sense to me
that I was painfully awkward around strangers one-on-one, but in dance class I
could entertain a roomful of strangers all night long. I
marveled at my ability to make these people laugh with my goofy
comments. Where did this hidden side of my personality come from?
One night I came to
class with a heavily bandaged finger. I had nicked it badly
while cutting bread with a kitchen
knife. Someone asked what was wrong with my finger, so I used
an old Rodney Dangerfield line. Deliberately bending my index
finger to make it appear half-size, I said, "I guess you guys never
noticed one of my fingers is short. It's kind of
embarrassing."
As usual, someone took
the bait. "That's terrible. What happened to your
finger?"
"When I was young, I was
kidnapped. Dad demanded more proof, so they sent part of my
finger to my father."
Back and forth.
My students gave me a hard time, I gave them a hard time. Fortunately
I had the upper hand because I had a class full of klutzes. My own struggles
had made me appreciate that dancing does not come easily to everyone.
Now that I had made it
this far, my difficulty turned into an advantage because it
made me a very patient
teacher. Whenever I saw someone struggle, I would readily offer the kind of sympathy a
more
gifted dancer might not be able to summon. I was very good at
offering encouragement. I reassured every struggling dancer
there was nothing wrong with them. "If I can do it, so
can you." Over the years I would share this
message with countless thousands who doubted their ability
to learn to dance. I
promised them that "try, try again" would pay off eventually.
And I was right. If they persisted, they always got it.
In all those years I only met two or three other students who were as bad as I was
when I started. They were so bad, each one had the sense to quit after the first or
second lesson. I drew two conclusions. One, by comparing
myself to my students, I confirmed my original mediocrity. Two, it was really weird
that I had refused to quit.
It was very ironic that I had
no natural ability to dance. What was I even doing here?
The success I had teaching my summer class provided the answer. I
did not need to be Baryshnikov or Nureyev to teach a
Beginning-level line dance course. All I needed was to be a
better dancer than my students. After three years
of taking line dance classes, that much I could do. In fact, Rosalyn said I was probably the best-prepared substitute dance teacher
in history. I appreciated the compliment, but I could not help
but wonder why it took me so long to get to this point. Three
years is long time. The
whole idea of a mediocre dancer like me turning around and
becoming a dance teacher was preposterous. It made as much sense
as a dyslexic teaching English or a hearing-impaired person teaching
Music. Be that as it may, my Dance Project had connected me with my one true skill, my
teaching ability. I had first discovered my teaching ability back at Colorado
State, but dismissed it as useless because there was no subject I
was qualified to teach.
During my year in
graduate school, I had a professor named Dr. Fujimoto who criticized
my shortcomings endlessly. Not a day passed when he didn't
remind me of my thin skin, my defensiveness, my inability to listen,
my tendency to talk too much, my insensitivity to the feelings of
others, and so on and so on. In short, he concluded a miserable
human being like myself had no business becoming a therapist.
After Fujimoto dismissed me, I was so bitter I refused to go back to
college. I assumed I was certain to run into another
professor like him. Given my problems dealing with authority
figures like Fujimoto, why put my neck back in that same noose again?
Only one problem. My only skill was my teaching ability.
To do that, I would need a degree in some new field. Hence my
difficulty finding another career to replace my dream of being a
therapist.
Mind you, when I first
started taking dance lessons three years ago, I was such a poor
dancer I never dreamed I might teach a class someday. Here we were three years later and I had just discovered
a subject I could teach that would not require a return to college. It was very
curious how everything worked out so nicely. Some might
even say it was meant to be.
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MAGIC CARPET RIDE:
the disco
years
CHAPTER TWO:
STEPPING STONES
Written by Rick
Archer
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Rick
Archer's Note:
If there is one
thing I am sure of, Hardship comes to us all at
some point.
There is an Arabic saying
that asserts Life is divided into two days.
Both days will be a Test.
When Life is for
you, do not be proud or reckless. When Life is
against you, be patient.
Good judgment and
Wisdom are born of Hardship.
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|
I love that
quote. To me, this explains why EVERYONE, even
the most talented people, always seem to undergo
extreme hardship at some point. Looking back,
it is easy to divide my life
into Two Days. Hardship was my middle name
during the
Lost Years. Not that I would ever wish to
experience those problems again, but I would have to say
my travails made me a much better
person. While I was down, I did my best to
learn from my mistakes. For example, my Pied Piper success
at the Rubaiyat Graduation Night was
born of failure at Melody Lane during
the Lost Years.
This pattern
would be repeated many times during my career. As another example, I believed I had
been set up for failure by Henry over at
Phoney Baloney and Jack at Sundry
School. Neither instructor had
bothered to teach me how to Lead. In addition,
Jack's failure to offer any sort of review doomed me
to suffer a painful loss of face in
Katie's eyes. I would remember these bitter
experiences when it came time to create my own class
format. I vowed to treat my own students far
better than I had been treated.
To this day I
still shake my head at how pathetic I was during the
Lost Years. In particular, I am forever
embarrassed over how much my fear of rejection held
me back. Fortunately, thanks to wisdom gained through hardship, I was able to handle the affairs of my
new dance
career with consummate skill during my Brightest Day.
It was uncanny how my
Darkest Day Hardship
had given me the exact training necessary to be effective
when it came time to pursue my
mission in life. If you ask me, these
Hardships were all part of the plan. But now
for the funny thing. Here at the start of the
Disco Years, I have just entered my Brightest Day.
As you will see, now that my luck has turned, for
the next year I could do no wrong while doors of
opportunity opened
time after time without asking.
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RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF
SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS
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THE MAGIC CARPET RIDE: THE DISCO YEARS |
055 |
Suspicious |
Coincidence |
1977 |
|
The painful lessons learned at Melody Lane two years earlier help Rick
turn into a Pied Piper at Rubaiyat |
|
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THE MAGIC CARPET RIDE: THE LOST YEARS |
047 |
Suspicious |
Messenger
Cosmic Blindness |
1975 |
|
Rick's inability to think of a way to ask Katie for a date cost him
dearly. At Melody Lane Graduation Night, Jack taught Rick how NOT to run a dance studio
while Katie indirectly reminded Rick to get a career. |
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SEPTEMBER, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
ROSALYN HANDS ME A PARTING GIFT
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Following my
successful August visit to the Rubaiyat, I was on pins
and needles wondering if
Rosalyn would let me keep the JCC class in September.
I prayed she had lost interest and would let me continue. Alas, such was not to be. One day early in
September I got the call I was dreading. It was Rosalyn. To my intense dismay, Rosalyn
announced she had just returned to Houston and would
resume teaching her class
in the Fall. Darn
it!
When
Rosalyn asked, "So how did
my class go
this summer?"
Taking careful note
of the word 'my class', my heart plummeted. However I did not let
the disappointment show in my voice. I bravely explained
things had gone well. I told Rosalyn how grateful I was that she had given
me this opportunity, then said I would see her when
class resumed next week. After I hung up the phone, I fell
to pieces.
Having experienced such intense satisfaction, I did not want to stop teaching. This
felt like the end of my dream. I
was really down, so I spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself. I could not accept
my Fate. It hurt like crazy to be given such a wonderful opportunity only to
have it taken away.
Two
days passed. Elena buzzed to say I had a phone call.
Still locked in depression over losing my Disco job, I was in no mood
to talk unless I had to. I asked Elena to find
out who it was.
"It is
Naomi from the Jewish Community Center. Do you want me to take a message?"
The JCC? Really? My
heart leapt for joy. What could this be about?
"Okay,
Elena, I will take the call."
To my enormous
relief,
Naomi said she was looking for a Disco teacher. However,
Naomi was not from the Braeswood JCC where I had taught last summer.
Naomi explained she represented a new branch of the
JCC which had recently opened out in the Memorial area.
As we spoke, Naomi
explained that someone at
the Braeswood JCC
had passed along
my name to her. Naomi added that the
referral had included a nice compliment about me. Apparently
someone in the office heard I had
done a good job last summer.
That recommendation was good enough for Naomi.
Naomi said, "Would you
consider teaching for us this fall?"
"Yes, I would like
to help, but first I have a question. I
have been a member
of the Braeswood JCC for the past three years.
Not once have I ever heard
of a Memorial location. Why is that?"
"The
Memorial JCC is practically brand new. I have to warn you
that we don't have much time to get publicity out on
this class. I don't think your class will be be very large.
Is
that okay? We will still pay you the same amount you
received last summer."
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I scoffed. Of
course it was okay. I was in no mood to play hard to get.
Nor did I care what the pay was. I simply
said, "When do I start?"
When Naomi said the
course was on Wednesday, I was elated. This gave me a
face-saving reason to disengage from helping Rosalyn with her
Wednesday class. Now that I had been the teacher, I was not
interested in returning to my boring assistant role. I called
Rosalyn. She was so warm over the phone that I
immediately felt guilty for wanting to avoid her class. When I told her
about the Memorial JCC, Rosalyn replied, "Oh good, you got the
job. They asked me to do it, but I told them I already taught
on Wednesday nights. That is when I suggested you."
Oh good grief.
Here I was mad at Rosalyn for reclaiming her class and
she was looking out for me the whole time. My guilt
immediately ratcheted another level higher. Hiding my mixed
feelings as best I could, I said, "Rosalyn, I may not see you
for a while, but I am very grateful to you for helping me get
started. Teaching dance is something I really love
to do. Thank you so much!"
Rosalyn replied,
"You are most welcome. I am glad this worked out so well. I
can tell how much this means to you."
After I hung up, I
shook my head in wonder. I
owed Rosalyn quite a debt for her amazing contribution to my
life. I
have always felt a deep sense of gratitude for Rosalyn's act of
kindness. I am sorry to say this would be the last time I
ever spoke to the woman who opened the door to my career.
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WEDNESDAY,
SEPTEMBER 28, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
memorial jcc
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Two weeks later I
began my Memorial JCC class.
The date was
Wednesday, September 28. Naomi was right
about the small class.
I was greeted by
5 women, all of whom were nearly
twice
my age. I didn't care.
5 people
tonight, 30 people last summer, it
made no difference. I wanted to teach dance and I
was hungry for any experience I could get.
Unfortunately,
this class was not
as easy to teach as I had expected. Although four of the ladies liked my class, there was
a
grouch named Esther who complained the entire time. Esther
was very difficult to please. Nothing I said or
did made her happy. In front of the other four
ladies, Esther made it clear
this class was not what she expected. Noticing how her negativity
affected everyone, I worried
that no one would come back next week.
At
the end of the night Esther and one other woman came up to talk to me.
I frowned as she approached. This old battleaxe had ruined
my class. What did she want?
Esther
said she
wanted to learn how to partner
dance to Disco music.
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"I am sorry,
ma'am, but
I don't know
how
to partner dance."
Esther
immediately insulted me. "Why not? Aren't you a
Disco teacher? How can you call yourself a
dance teacher when you don't even know how to dance?"
I seethed at
Esther's
slap. The Porcupine inside me came within an inch of telling that woman exactly where she could go. I was
tempted to hand the woman the JCC catalogue and ask if she knew
how to read. The class description
said
'Disco Line Dances'. However somewhere in the back of my mind I thought of
Dr. Fujimoto, the man who threw me out of graduate school for my
tendency to get defensive and retort without thinking first.
With a grim smile, I noted how my Darkest Day at Colorado State had steeled me
to deal with this difficult woman. I took a deep breath and counted to ten.
Once I calmed down, I responded, "It is true that I do not know how to partner dance.
However
I am curious about partner dancing as well. I
promise to look around and see if I can find a place to
pick up some training."
That satisfied
Esther.
She
and her friend
left with a smile. Meanwhile I breathed a sigh of relief.
I had come very close to losing my temper.
This level of self-control was highly uncharacteristic of me, so
I quietly noted
that perhaps it was a sign of emerging maturity. With the
help of
Gaye Brown-Burke, my therapist and friend, I was determined to overcome my legion of weaknesses.
Unfortunately I was a slow learner. Next month, I would turn 28. At
this rate, I figured about the time I reached 60 I would grow up.
|
Thursday, SEPTEMBER 29, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
the whip AT STEVENS OF HOLLYWOOD
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I had no idea what Disco
partner dancing looked like. I had
been Disco dancing three times since Manimal attacked me at the
Farmhouse
two and a half years ago. Not once had I observed anyone partner
dancing. I wasn't even sure it existed. However, I
recalled how Elena had once shown me three simple partner dance moves.
I also
remembered seeing that weird dance called the Whip.
Back in January 1976
I had signed up for a Disco line dance class
at Stevens of Hollywood. At the end of
class,
Lance Stevens,
the owner,
had entered the room to put on a
Whip
dance demonstration with his
wife Cliann.
I would later learn the Whip was the Texas equivalent of a
better-known dance called West
Coast Swing.
It had been 21 months since I had seen the Whip
demonstration. Since the Whip
was the only thing
I knew that might resemble Disco partner
dancing, I
phoned Stevens of Hollywood. Lance Stevens
answered the phone. Stevens said he had a Whip class on
Tuesday night I could
take, but it
had started two weeks ago. He added that Tuesday would be the
third lesson. Stevens said the Whip was a tough dance and
very few people succeeded starting this late. There was no encouragement in his voice. In fact, Stevens made it sound
like it wasn't worth his trouble to bother with me.
"If you want to
come, that's up to you. Just be
forewarned that I will not slow my class down to accommodate
you."
I said I
would be there. The way I saw it, this was the only game in town.
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Tuesday, October 4, 1977,
Age 27,
the disco years
Dorothy Piazzos
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"How can you
call yourself a dance teacher when you don't even know how
to dance?"
Esther's insult
about my ignorance
had struck a chord. When it came to Disco dancing, I had no clue how to partner dance.
Since I was always looking for a way to improve my dancing,
Esther had aroused my curiosity. I recalled my visit to
Stevens of Hollywood back in January
1976. That was the night I met Roberta, the woman I
considered to be the worst dance teacher I had ever met.
Oddly enough, I owed a debt of gratitude to her.
Roberta had asked me to come up to the front and teach a
line dance she had seen me demonstrating earlier to another
student.
To my distinct
pleasure, I had done a very good job explaining how the
pattern worked during my brief cameo. When the class
was over, the desire to teach a line dance class of my own
was firmly planted in my mind. As I entered of
Stevens of Hollywood
that night, this memory was fresh in my mind.
After all, this studio was where the dream had started. The
date was Tuesday, October 4, 1977.
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Stevens of Hollywood was located
on the edge of the Montrose area near the corner of Shepherd
and Westheimer.
Since I was
starting class in the third week, when I arrived Stevens knew
it was me who had phoned.
Since I was the only person under 40, that was another giveaway. Stevens
looked me over, then shrugged.
"Okay, I warned you, but
since you're here, you might as well give it a try. However,
like I said, I don't
intend to hold my class
up waiting for you to catch up."
I noticed the edge in his
voice. What value was there in discouraging me?
I had a bad feeling about Lance Stevens. He was very gruff and
impatient. Not an easy guy to like.
Stevens said I
was early. He told me to sit and watch the people warm
up. Class would start in ten minutes.
|
I looked around. Compared to the
voluminous Dance City/Melody Lane building where I had
learned to Freestyle back in 1974, Stevens of Hollywood was not a large
dance studio. I estimate the main dance floor was 1500 square
feet plus there were three smaller side rooms. The place
was somewhat run-down and had a subdued air to it. When I
showed up for the Whip class that night, the class had 20 people.
Before class
started, Stevens had a
surprise for me. He came over to me, then barked at a lady
standing nearby talking to someone.
"Dorothy, come over here.
I need you."
When
Dorothy arrived, a sour look crossed Stevens' face. He
almost seemed mad at me. His hostility made no sense.
Strange man.
Stevens spoke
gruffly to
Dorothy.
"Here's the young man I
told you about. Show him what he needs to know."
Then Stevens turned
to me. "Listen to Dorothy and maybe you will catch
on."
With that, Stevens turned his back and walked
away.
Gee, what a pleasant
introduction. Why was this man so harsh? Stevens reminded me of Dr. Fujimoto, my highly
critical graduate school professor. Just
what I needed... another Fujimoto. I definitely did not
like Stevens.
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Fortunately,
Dorothy was nothing like Stevens. Dorothy was a very pleasant,
attractive woman. She was an elegant
white-haired lady, well-dressed with a lovely scarf, perfectly groomed.
This lady could have easily belonged to the River Oaks Seven,
my tormentors from yesteryear,
except for one thing. Dorothy was very warm and
welcoming.
She introduced
herself as
Dorothy Piazzos, then asked my name.
Dorothy smiled and said she would try to catch me up. I
liked her immediately. Dorothy was 50 something. Dorothy was short,
curvy and very pretty. Dorothy explained she
had taken the
Whip class before. She knew the dance well enough to help
if I got stuck, adding she was here as a
volunteer. I gathered Stevens had
told Dorothy earlier that I might be coming. Stevens
wanted her to give me some personal coaching so my
inexperience would not interfere with the progress of his group
class.
I didn't have a
problem with that. In fact, I enjoyed Dorothy's company.
As we chatted, I learned she owned
Pappagallos, a shoe store in the
ritzy Galleria shopping mall just down the street. Dorothy said she
loved to dance and was here to help any way she could.
Just as she finished her introduction, class started.
We already know that learning to dance
never came easily to me.
However, to my surprise, I wasn't
all that bad in my first night of
Whip class. What? No
ordeal? I was quite relieved. Due to my year of jazz
dancing with Patsy Swayze, the footwork gave me no trouble.
Dorothy's patience made
quite a difference as well.
|
In a manner similar to
the
legendary Katie, Dorothy gently corrected my mistakes and kept
me from tensing up with any disapproval.
Best of all, I liked the music.
Stevens played Rhythm and Blues, a type of music very
similar to Motown. My Disco-trained ear was unfamiliar with the
Blues, but I liked it
right off the bat. Stevens played one song I recognized...
Cleo's Mood by Junior Walker. It had a
strong beat and I craved those nasty saxophone riffs.
The Blues music made me want to learn this dance. The
Whip was pretty cool.
However, there was
an early problem. About ten minutes
into the lesson, Dorothy pulled me aside.
"Rick, I
don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you are really hurting me! You are
squeezing so hard I am worried your thumb is going to
bore a hole through my hand."
I was mortified!
I had no idea I was hurting Dorothy. After apologizing profusely, I confessed to
Dorothy I had not been aware of my mistake. Apparently I
was so nervous I did not know my own strength. "Dorothy,
please forgive me! I am so sorry!! But my problem is that
I don't know when I am hurting you. Would you do me
a favor?"
"I'll try.
What do you have in mind?"
"The next time I squeeze, will
you
shake your hand to make me aware?"
Dorothy smiled.
"That's a good idea. Of course."
Ten seconds later Dorothy
began to shake her hand. I was appalled. Good grief! Obviously I was
a lot more tense than I realized. Fortunately,
the shaking trick worked. As the evening progressed, every
now and then Dorothy would quietly shake my hand. That
helped me
become more aware of keeping my hands relaxed. Dorothy was very patient
with me, so I was able to break this bad
habit before the night was through. I could not help
wishing Lance Stevens was as patient as Dorothy. Every time he
looked at me, he frowned. What is it with this guy?
I did not know why, but I think Stevens disliked me from the
start.
Dorothy appreciated
that I cared enough to enlist her help in solving the problem. My
hand-squeezing problem
was an odd start to the evening, but it actually helped us
become friends. As for me,
ordinarily I did not handle criticism well. However, not once did
I bristle at Dorothy's constant fussing. That is because I felt an instant
rapport with this nice lady. Here she was going out of her way to help
me and I had nearly severed her hand. But did she bite my
head off? No. Instead she was quite forgiving. I liked
Dorothy for it. In fact, I told her so. "Dorothy, you are
being really nice to me. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate
your patience."
Dorothy smiled and
squeezed my hand affectionately. I immediately flinched and said, "Ow!"
Seeing me rubbing my
hands together, Dorothy was
horrified. "Oh, no, did I hurt you?"
"No, Dorothy, I'm just
teasing you. I still feel guilty for hurting you earlier."
Dorothy put on a
mock frown, then punched me in the side of arm.
"OW!!"
"Did that hurt?"
"Yes! For
a small lady, you pack quite a wallop!"
"Good.
Serves you right for scaring me like that." Dorothy was
grinning as she said it.
Towards the end of
the class, Dorothy
got a funny look on her face.
"Rick, you sure are picking this
material up fast.
You said you missed the first two weeks, but you are completely caught up. Are
you sure you have never taken a Whip class before?"
I smiled and thanked
her for the compliment. "This footwork isn't that hard.
Did you know I teach a Disco class?
My previous dance
experience helps me pick up the footwork."
Dorothy did a double-take.
"Do you really teach a Disco class?"
"Yes, ma'am, I teach
Disco over at the Memorial Jewish Community Center."
For some reason Dorothy got quiet and seemed to study me
more carefully.
I was curious why my
words had such an odd effect, but said nothing. Dorothy excused
herself to go to the restroom with a promise to return shortly.
While Dorothy was gone, Lance
Stevens came over
"I
hear you
teach a Disco
class."
His comment took me completely off guard.
Stevens was so gruff
with his approach, I hesitated. Which answer was more
likely to escape his wrath? I decided to tell the truth,
so I
said yes. Stevens
stared at me for a moment, gave an
odd hummph, then walked away.
Good grief, what was that all
about?
After Stevens left, Dorothy
returned. She must have seen the perplexed look on my face
because she gave me a guilty
look.
"I'm sorry about
that.
I don't know why Lance is always so rude. When
you weren't looking, Lance asked me how you were doing.
I told him you were pretty good because you are a Disco instructor."
I grinned.
"Well, Dorothy,
I probably could have figured
out who ratted me out without your confession, but thanks for
telling me anyway."
We both laughed.
I enjoyed Dorothy's company a lot. What a shame Dorothy
wasn't my age because she was really nice. Five minutes
later, Lance Stevens came over again.
This time he asked me if I knew the 'Worm',
the hot new move of the day. By coincidence, Elena had recently taught me the Worm, so
I responded positively. "Yes, sir, I
know how to do the Worm."
"Then show
it to me."
At his request,
I demonstrated the Worm.
I wiggled up and down and felt
ridiculous. Stevens rolled his eyes with
disdain and replied that's how he did it too. Yeah,
right, like I believe this old grouch has ever done the Worm in
his life. Then
with his usual hummph, Stevens walked away.
Strange guy. I wondered why
Stevens
was always so grumpy. My previous four dance teachers...
David, Becky, Patsy, Rosalyn... had all been friendly.
Stevens was the exact opposite. This man didn't have a friendly
bone in his body. In fact, Stevens seemed to have as big a chip on
his shoulder as I did. What was this guy's problem?
I also thought his
exchange over the Worm was kind of odd.
However, he was definitely checking me out for some
reason. Very
curious. Sure enough, at the end of class, Stevens came
back around for the third time. I groaned because I thought I was about to
get chewed out some more. Turns out I was right.
Stevens watched me
dance for a second, then commented, "Your footwork is okay, but
can you get rid of the bounce?"
Irritated, I said
nothing. However I nodded to indicate I got the message.
To my surprise, Stevens was here
for another reason.
"Listen, my Disco teacher just quit.
You want to take her
place?"
I was stunned.
Heck, this guy doesn't even like me and now he's offering me
a job? Before Stevens could change his mind, I
said, "Sure. Of course I will.
I love teaching dance."
"Good. The class
has about 15 people.
Can you come back Thursday night at 7?"
Well, there goes
Thursday night volleyball at the JCC, but I nodded yes. This felt
like a good opportunity. Due to the awkwardness of
the moment, I was about to go, but then I realized
Stevens
wasn't done yet. He felt
compelled to offer a lecture.
"I would
teach
the class myself, but
I detest Disco
music.
I would
rather pay someone
to teach the class than be forced to listen to
that Disco crap.
I grew up with Big Band Music.
That was the finest
music ever recorded. And now we have this abomination
called Disco Music. I think it's awful. Civilization
has taken a giant step backwards."
If Lance
Stevens was to be believed, America was in peril.
I smiled as a vision
of Barbarians using a Disco soundtrack to invade New York City
passed through my mind.
I loved Disco music,
but I had the sense to keep my mouth snapped tight. Shades
of Fujimoto, had
already learned the less said around this man, the better.
When
Stevens finished his rant, he gave me a hard look.
"Are you
reliable? Are you going
to be here?"
"Yes, sir, of
course. I am very reliable."
Stevens
still wasn't done. He stood there and took another long look at me without saying anything. Then without a smile,
he glanced at Dorothy, gave his usual hummph, then pivoted and walked away. The
entire exchange
had lasted
all of three minutes. Dorothy watched
the whole thing transpire. After Stevens left, she giggled and gave me a big
hug. I had a strong hunch Dorothy had played a key role in
this unusual situation. However, despite my questioning, Dorothy refused to reveal
anything. Nevertheless, there was no doubt in my mind that
Stevens had hired me based on her evaluation. She was looking out for
me. Pure and simple,
Dorothy's Simple Act of Kindness had gotten me this
opportunity. I was glad to have this new job, but
I had my doubts about Lance Stevens.
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MAGIC CARPET
RIDE:
A
GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY
|
On my drive home
that night, I should have been
overjoyed, but instead I frowned. Lance Stevens reminded
me of Fujimoto far too much for comfort. Who
wants to work for this guy? However, I really wanted this job. It had been
over three years since they sent me packing
from Colorado State. Had I finally developed the skill
to play the game? I certainly hoped so. If I wanted
to keep this job, then I had best remember to keep my mouth shut around this bitter man.
|
It was
odd the way
Lance Stevens had handled this situation. He had just handed a dance class to a young man who was a
total stranger. Lance Stevens did not like me.
Nor did he have a good opinion of my dancing.
I knew this because Stevens had criticized my Whip
dancing non-stop tonight. I was also troubled
over the way I had been hired. There was no interview.
Stevens did not ask about my previous experience, he
did not ask for a demonstration of my line dance
material, nor did he ask for a resume or
recommendations. Stevens did not ask where I taught
previously or for how long. He did not ask
what I did for a living. In other words,
Stevens didn't want to know a damn thing about me.
I figured my sole qualification for the job was
being
in
the right place at the right time.
Stevens disliked Disco music so much, he hired the
first
kid off the street just so he did not have to go to the
trouble of
looking for anyone.
Furthermore, based on the hostile way he offered me
the job, I could tell Stevens could have cared less
if I said yes. That is why I got the
impression that hiring me was not his idea in the
first place. Dorothy's word was
behind his decision, I was sure of it. However,
Dorothy refused to admit her involvement.
Nor would she tell me why this job was available.
The whole episode was a bit too mysterious for my
taste.
Nevertheless, despite what went on behind the scenes,
I had a new job. In addition, I had the
distinct feeling this was an important moment.
Something very much out of the ordinary was taking
place in my life. In the short span of five months, this
Stevens position was the third teaching job in a row
that had been handed to me.
Typically people apply for jobs. Not me. I never had to lift a finger for any of the three.
They felt 'linked', a synchronicity.
I referred to them as the 'Three Stepping Stones'.
I had no
idea at the time, but this was my Big Break. Dorothy's kindness had
opened the Door to my Destiny. I barely knew what I was doing, but at
least I had the sense to cross the threshold.
The Magic Carpet was warming up in the
background.
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