JANUARY 2001

HOW ABOUT A CRUISE TRIP?

FLASHBACK TO 1983

THE EARLY DAYS OF SSQQ

The movie Big Chill told the touching story of college friends who reunite many years later at a much different stage in their lives.  The affection they felt for one another was reminiscent of the affection my group of friends shared during the formative years of SSQQ in the early Eighties. 

This was a very special time for my dance studio.  A group of students who met in our dance classes made a habit of going dancing together after class during the week and on weekends as well.  This started in 1982 during the Urban Cowboy-inspired Western Era here in Houston.  Over time they became bonded together like a close knit family.  I took immense pride in seeing the important role the studio had played in the lives of my friends.  I never saw a more inseparable group of people in my life.  Let me add that I was one of the Gang.  My social life revolved around this group of friends.  There was no teacher-student barrier whatsoever.  All for one and one for all. 

Our extended family numbered around 50 people.  Things were quite platonic for about six months.  However, as we got to know each other, "nature" would not be denied.  Once the platonic days were over, we became rather incestuous.  People would date within the group, then switch partners.  Feelings got hurt, tears were shed and things were certainly awkward at times.  But typically someone new came along to court the abandoned one.  Soon enough, everyone was happy again.  The incestuous period lasted for a year or so.

However, here in mid-1983, not everyone was content to play musical chairs.  Recently various members of our group had begun pairing up.  Several couples were so serious, we could see they were moving towards a larger commitment. 

Lately we noticed that certain members of our group seemed to be staying together longer than the usual time span.  Oddly enough, that made the rest of us nervous.  We cherished our status as singles happy to play the field.  'Commitment' was for old people, count us out.  But there was no denying it.  Some of our friends were so serious, we feared they were moving towards Never Never Land.  Who would be the first to take the plunge?  

I first met Tom Easley in 1982.  As I mentioned, Country-Western dancing was all the rage and Tom needed to learn the Texas Twostep.  Like me, Tom wrapped his entire social life around the studio.  I would see him two, three times a week.  Sometimes it was dance class, other times it was at a club where Tom would be hanging out with our group of friends.  Tom was a popular member of "The Gang".  He was also one of the leaders. 

One day Tom had an idea.  Why not rent a beach house down in Surfside and spend a weekend together?  Great idea.  Tom got such a good response, he ended up renting three adjacent beach houses for three days of sand, surf, and hijinks.  Although I did not go, I heard it was a big hit with 60 guests.

FLASHBACK TO SKI TRIPS OF THE EIGHTIES

LEADER OF THE PACK

Although I had natural ability as a teacher when I started my dance career, I had virtually no experience as a leader.  I grew up as an only child with few friends.  Although I appreciated the fine education I received at my private school, I was the scholarship kid surrounded by rich kids for nine years.  I was treated as an equal in class, but otherwise my classmates left me alone.  No one was mean to me, but they "knew" I was not one of them.  Growing up alone, I often felt like an outcast.  Due to limited social interaction during my nine-year stay, I lagged far behind my peer group in social skills.  However, I was willing to learn. 

My initial leadership moment came in August 1977.  The first class I ever taught was Disco line dancing.  As we neared the end of my summer class, I knew from personal experience how difficult it is for beginners to find the courage to go dancing at a club alone.  So I persuaded 30 students to go dancing with me to the Rubaiyat on the final night of class. 

To my surprise, once they got to the club, all they did was sit there and watch.  They were too scared to get on the floor.  So I announced a line dance and told them to follow me.  For half an hour I led one line dance after another.  That broke the ice.  By the end of the night, they didn't need me anymore.  The men were asking the girls to dance and people were falling in love.  That was my very first experience as "Leader of the Pack", a role I would come to play many times over the course of my career.

I learned a valuable lesson that night.  To be effective as a dance teacher, I had to find a way to encourage my students to practice.  The best way to make them practice was to go with them.  Worked like a charm.  A group spirit began to emerge as students would join me on these nightly adventures.  This is how I realized the social element was just as important as the dance side.  Why limit our activities to dancing?  I got in the habit of planning social activities for my students.  We went to movies after class, played Sunday volleyball at a park, got together at someone's house for birthdays, Charades and Trivial Pursuits. 

Creating a monthly social calendar in addition to my dance classes, I was right there in the middle as my students got to know one another.  As Leader of the Pack, I suppose I deserved the lion's share of the credit.  However, I could not have a created a place as wonderful as SSQQ without the help of people like Tom Easley.  Tom helped in several ways.  I was not a natural leader, but Tom was, so I began to copy him.  Earlier I mentioned how Tom rented three beach houses at Surfside for the weekend.  Tom's beach weekend was a good example of an event that helped our dance community come together. 

The success of Tom's beach event caused me to think on a larger scale.  I liked to ski.  And I liked my friends at the studio.  Why not organize a ski trip for the whole gang?  Starting in 1983, for six years running I organized an annual ski trip.  The experience I gained from organizing these trips helped immensely.  Despite my slow start in life, my dance career taught me how to lead.

BACK TO THE PRESENT: FEBRUARY 2001

LAKE TAHOE SKI TRIP

When dance classes resumed in January 2001, word of my separation swiftly made its way through the grapevine.  In mid-January my friend Tom gave me a call.  He got right to the point. 

"Hey, Rick, I need a favor.  I want to go skiing at Lake Tahoe with the gang, but I need a roommate on short notice.  I heard a rumor you might be available."

"What about Margaret?"

"Margaret doesn't want to go this year.  Why don't you come with me instead?"

Although I was very suspicious of Tom's motives, it did not take long to say yes.  As they say, don't look a gift horse in the mouth.  Tom's invitation to go skiing was a real blessing.  Alan Fox had been right about one thing.  I very much needed to get out of town and nurse my wounds.  I might add there was a practical element.  My departure would give Judy a chance to move to her new apartment without me around.  More than likely she was dealing with some blues of her own.

Tom and I met at the airport in February.  I had not seen him for several years.  With painful memories of Tom's hideous Halloween costume locked in my mind, Tom was so clean-cut I barely recognized him.  Amazing what a good woman can do for a man.  I gave Margaret high marks for turning Tom from a fashion rebel into a handsome guy.

I had a sneaky feeling Tom had taken pity on me, so I asked him about it.  I was surprised when Tom stuck to his story that Margaret did not feel like going skiing this year.  Knowing how much Margaret liked to ski, I was skeptical.  However, despite considerable prodding on my part, Tom insisted he was not doing this as a favor, but rather he simply needed a roommate. 

As the other skiers assembled, I was amazed at all the familiar faces.  In particular, I was struck by all the people who had met their spouses at SSQQ.  Tom and Margaret, Charlie and Beverly, Gary and Linda, Doug and Sharon, Irving and Sharon, Ted and Margie.  It was the reunion of the legendary SSQQ Wedding Factory.  It was also the reunion of eight people who had been part of the Big Chill Era from 20 years ago.  The roll call did not stop there.  Many of the people on the trip had met at the studio during the Nineties.  Counting heads, I realized over half the people in this group of 40 had taken lessons and met at SSQQ.  I felt happy to be back with the Gang again.  However, this was also a bittersweet moment.  Other than Tom, I had rarely seen any of these people during my marriage to Judy. 

Considering I was the founding father of the annual ski trips, why was I a stranger now?  Because I had not seen these people in years.  Once a person learns to dance, they move on to other things.  Unless they dropped by the studio for a special event such as the Halloween Party, our paths never crossed.  Furthermore, I had not skied with the Gang since 1988 due to a particular bad break-up with a girlfriend during the trip.  Thanks to tainted memories at the time, I did not want the responsibility anymore, so I handed it off. 

Fortunately, the ski group continued their February tradition throughout the Nineties and into the Millennium.  Thanks to good times and shared adventures, over the years this tight-knit group formed deep and lasting friendships.  In addition to their annual ski trip, they saw each other during the year at birthday parties and holiday events. 

Whether Tom's invitation was deliberate or not, he was determined to take my mind off my problems.  The subject of my divorce never came up during the trip.  However, that did not stop Tom from taking advantage of my bedraggled state of mind.  He wasted no time paying me back for all the times I had teased him over his odd taste in clothing during the Good Old Days.  Due to my divorce-related depression, I was not looking so good.  On the first night of the Lake Tahoe ski trip, Tom had the nerve to insult my pitiful, hang-dog appearance in front of our friends.   

"I invited Rick on the ski trip for a specific reason.  I wanted to be sure I looked better than someone else in the group."  

Ouch!  This Tahoe trip was not the first time Tom played nursemaid following a divorce.  He had been my roommate on a ski trip to Steamboat Springs shortly after my first wife Pat left me in 1986.  Two wives, two divorces, two ski trips with Tom as my hand-holding roommate. 

Although I am a fairly good skier, I got off to a rough start at Tahoe.  I had only skied once during my ten year marriage to Judy, so I fell several times.  Fortunately I was alone, so I suffered in private.  By chance, I ran into Tom and several other friends at the mountain-top lodge.  I was pleased when they invited me to join them for the second half of the day.  

Tom did not let up with insults.  Every time I fell skiing, Tom was certain to crack a joke that would leave the group in stitches.  To my surprise, Tom's reverse therapy made me start to smile.  Despite my intense regret, I was feeling better now that I was around friends again.   Slowly but surely, the good memories began making a breakthrough. 

To my relief, as the rust wore off, I was able to keep up with the experienced skiers.  Our group consisted of Tom, Ted, Margie, Michelle, Jim and myself.  Considering we had all been part of the Big Chill Era, the stories returned and so did the laughter.  We had so much fun talking about old times, we decided to stick together for the rest of the week.  It was great to reminisce with my friends about the Good Old Days.  I thought of that wonderful Russian folk song, Those Were the Days.

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever & a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young
and sure to have our way

During the Big Chill Era, we were too young to know these were the best times of our lives.  However, here on the ski trip we knew it now and we cherished the memories.  The six of us were so happy to be reunited it was ridiculous.

It gave me goosebumps to observe how happy my friends were to reunite at Lake Tahoe.  It reminded me of all the good will the studio had created over the years.  That realization initiated a major thaw in my bad attitude.  As I cheered up, I began to think of ways to instill a similar spirit in the studio's current generation.

A HISTORY OF CONTRIBUTION

During our trip to Tahoe, I noticed that Tom was at the center of many stories from the Big Chill Era.  Tom's Look-Alike Party.  Tom's Annual Beach House adventure.  Ski trips, Halloween Parties, the Going Away Party for Phyllis.  These shared moments were just the tip of the iceberg.  There were so many special moments, it was easy to see how my friends became permanently glued together for life.

It crossed my mind how much Tom had contributed to development of the spirit of warmth that permeated the studio.  For example, water volleyball was Tom's idea.  However, Tom was not alone.  Each person in my ski group had made contributions.  The annual ski trips had been my idea.  The Look-Alike Party was Ted and Margie's idea.  The Pyramid tradition at the Halloween Party was Jim's idea.  The Going Away Party was Michelle's idea.  One thing everyone agreed on was how great the studio was.  Someone pointed out SSQQ was listed first on Google as the 'Number One Dance Studio' in America.  I blushed as my friends offered me their compliments. 

Did I deserve the credit?  Yes, I suppose so.  After all, the studio was my life's work.  The success of the studio was a testament to a good work ethic, being professional, and quite a bit of luck.  Speaking of lucky, I attributed my charmed life to God.  However, the success of the studio went further than that.  I thought about something a friend named Larry Carlton once told me.  SSQQ had a reputation for throwing the best Halloween Party in town.  I typically got the credit.  But what about all the unsung heroes who made the party special? 

One day in 1995 I mentioned to Larry that my wife Judy had created a life-size Dracula for the Haunted House.  What a shame our cardboard coffin was so lame.  One week later Larry and several other men carried a giant wood coffin into the studio.  Turns out Larry taught 'Shop' at a local high school which included auto mechanics, electrical skills, and... carpentry.  His students had made this coffin specifically for our Halloween Party.  Did I ask Larry to do this?  No.  I had no idea what he did for a living.  When I thanked Larry for his awesome gift, he smiled. 

"I did this because I feel a sense of ownership.  I am not the only person who feels this way.  I recognize SSQQ is a special place that has captured the heart of many.  We all go out of our way to contribute.  SSQQ is great because your students want to help you keep it great."

I felt incredibly gratified by Larry's observation.  He sensed that I cared about SSQQ in a way that far transcended running a business.  To me, SSQQ was more like a mission.  It was touching to know that many of my students felt the same way.  Although I never said it out loud, I felt like the studio was blessed.  Why did I feel that way?  Let's use Larry's gift as an example.  Larry is the only person I ever told about my disappointment in the cardboard coffin.  It was quite a coincidence that Larry not only possessed the skill to help, he also felt a keen desire to dedicate hours of his time without being asked.  To me, it was like I had made a Wish and someone had asked Larry to grant it. 

Another example would be Tom.  Here I was at Rock Bottom.  Out of nowhere my friend Tom, a man I had not spoken to in several years, called to invite me on the ski trip.  Here again it was like I made a Wish for help and someone arranged for Tom to grant it.  Do you see my point?  A Realistic-oriented person will say that Tom's invitation was luck.  I say it was Fate.  When things like this happen time after time, after a while it becomes easier to admit the spiritual answer makes more sense than constantly relying on 'luck' and 'accident' as our explanation. 

THE ACCIDENTAL DANCE TEACHER

In a previous chapter, I said I would be discussing Fate soon.  Okay, you are still reading, so I assume you have an open mind on the subject.  I would now like to explain how I acquired my belief in Fate.

Why have I gone into so much detail regarding the Tahoe ski trip?  Because I believe it was a Fated Event on my path to Marla.  Because it brought about a major transformation within me.  Being with Tom and the others had a strange effect.  As I skied with my friends from yesteryear, I recalled how I helped build this network back in the Eighties.  In particular I focused on the married couples.  Every time I looked at them, I was reminded that my studio was responsible for bringing these couples together.  That realization had a profound impact, and not necessarily a happy one.  In a manner similar to Ebenezer Scrooge, I was haunted daily with the memory of how special things had once been at the studio, but were no longer present.  I became painfully aware of how badly I was out of touch with the 2001 version of the studio.  This realization hurt terribly, especially since I had no one to blame but myself for turning into an ill-tempered grouch much of the time.

Seeing these people made me feel like I had been shirking my responsibility for a long time.  It was not just my students I had let down, it was a promise to God I had made 26 years ago.  Let me explain.  I acquired my belief in God thanks to an event I consider to be a miracle.  Immersed in thoughts of suicide during a crisis in high school, a woman who had never met me took me aside and more or less talked me down from the ledge.  Her name was Maria Ballantyne.  The incident was so touching, I was convinced God had sent her to help me.  I have written about this in the Hidden Hand of God.

I was so certain Mrs. Ballantyne's unexpected intervention was a gift from God, I believed I had witnessed a case of Divine Intervention.  However, I was not sure about Fate.  That belief kicked in six years later.  I had just been thrown out of graduate school.  I had been planning to become a clinical psychologist.  No, I did not do anything terrible.  My grades were good and I showed infinite respect to my professors. 

However, the head of the department was convinced I had the wrong personality to be a therapist.  Without coming out and saying it bluntly, my social skills were much too inadequate.  I was far too insensitive to be of any use.  Unfortunately, due to my arrested development dating back to my difficult childhood, the man was probably right.  Adding to my woes, a girlfriend named Vanessa betrayed me in an especially cruel way. 

Feeling like a loser in love and career, I staggered back to Houston.  Age 24, I found myself resting yet again at Rock Bottom, a familiar spot.  Immersed in overwhelming depression, I prayed for help.  Soon after, I came across a weird book with a strange title, The Mistress Book.  To my surprise, the book was dedicated to a woman named Vanessa with the tag line "Who's sorry now?"   Any man with a grudge towards women named Vanessa was surely a friend of mine.  Taking this as an omen, I bought the book.  

The book suggested dance lessons might solve my problem.  Since I already knew I had little talent when it came to dance, I was very skeptical.  However, a series of strange coincidences convinced me that taking dance lessons was God's Will, so I surrendered. 

My first dance lesson was abysmal.  I was so upset when I got to my car, I actually blamed God for twisting my arm to do something I clearly had no skill for.  Why would God set me up for failure?  That made no sense!  It also hurt.  Isn't God supposed to help those who help themselves?  Here in the midst of my Epic Losing Streak, I had never felt so abandoned.  Seriously, had God forgotten about my dismissal from Graduate School?  Had God forgotten about the Curse of Vanessa?  I understood that life has its ups and downs, but wasn't it my turn to catch a break??  It was humiliating to realize how much I had counted on dance lessons to snap out of it only to fail so horribly.  The pain was so intense, right there in the parking lot, I broke down and cried my eyes out. 

That crying spell was actually a blessing because it calmed me down.  To my surprise, I felt a strong desire to continue dance lessons after all.  Considering how bad I was, I don't know what got into me.  Actually I do know the answer.  So many things had gone wrong in my first dance lesson, it bordered on the absurd.  Was this a test of some sort?  It struck me that my failure today was not completely my fault, but rather some reverse psychology ploy to take these lessons very seriously.  It worked.  Basically I still felt these lessons were important to God, that this is what He wanted me to do. 

So guess what?  Sitting there in the car, I made a solemn promise to God that I would take lessons as long as necessary until I was a good dancer.  I figured two or three months tops.  Wrong.  Considering my slow progress plus a lack of any practical reason to continue, it took a serious leap of faith to stay with dance lessons for over three years.  So why didn't I quit?  Because I had promised God I would stay with this.  I am completely serious. 

To my astonishment, the moment I became a reasonably good dancer, a part-time job as a line dance teacher materialized out of thin air.  I did not ask for the job; it was handed to me.  I was in over my head.  I knew very little about the technical aspects of dance and I was not much better as a dancer than my own students.  However, I was funny and I discovered I had a knack for teaching.  After years of feeling like a failure, I was pleased to finally find something I was good at.  So I stayed with the job, humble as it was.

Two months after I started, a crisis developed when Saturday Night Fever arrived.  My boss ordered me to teach partner dancing, something I knew nothing about.  Making matters worse, I was given two weeks to learn or he would teach it himself.  I was in serious trouble.  My boss did not like me and refused to help.  To my dismay, I could not find anyone to teach me.  Making matters worse, no one in the clubs knew either.  They could do Freestyle and line dancing, but partner dancing was non-existent.  Uh oh.  I was in big trouble.

What was the problem?  I was learning the hard way that Partner Dancing was a lost art.  Interest in partner dancing had disappeared twenty years ago when the Twist came along.  Assuming this was the end, I was incredibly disappointed.  But I had to try something.  With the deadline just days away, I went back to the Disco.  A complete stranger took pity on me and explained that Disco partner dancing is a modified form of Swing dancing.  This last-minute rescue was the clue I needed.  I learned just enough to fake my way through several months where I barely knew what I was doing. 

Opportunity is often concealed by misfortune.  By turning my handicap into an asset, I have a strong hunch I was the first person in Houston to offer a partner dance class.  I am not saying I was any good at it.  Hardly.  In fact, I had been promoted way past my level of competence.  But it did not matter because I was the only teacher in town.  This gave me just enough time to learn on the fly, trial and error.  There I was standing at the crossroad of this massive social phenomenon.  I was literally the only game in town at a time when learning to partner dance had suddenly become the hottest ticket in Houston. 

My streak of good fortune did not stop there.  I made several serious mistakes that should have cost me my job.  Due to my woeful inexperience, on several occasions I taught partner dance moves incorrectly.  These mistakes led to women getting hurt.  My boss did not like me to begin with.  If he had found out, game over.  But somehow the women forgave my incompetence and my mistakes remained concealed from the boss.

Every time I was on the brink of abject failure, a lucky break helped me meet the challenge and live to teach another day.  Despite my mistakes, despite my lack of dance ability, despite my woeful inexperience, despite all my gambles, my fledgling dance program continued to grow and grow.  I could not help but notice how weird this was.  A man with limited dance ability, weak social skills and virtually no prior training had just become the leading Disco teacher in the city.  If this was made into a movie, people would walk out of the theater thinking it was comedy.  And who would blame them?  It was preposterous to think some guy who never entered a contest and refused to perform was dominating better-trained professionals with natural dance ability. 

Seriously, I had no business being this successful.  Finally I couldn't take it anymore.  I was convinced the only reason I succeeded had to be Divine Intervention.  In my heart I knew I lacked the talent to accomplish this on my own.  And yet here I was, taking this Magic Carpet Ride in spite of my many shortcomings.  Thinking back to the Mistress Book, I felt like God had moved two mountains to put here.  Even better, I loved what I was doing.  For that reason, I asked God to let me continue teaching dance for the rest of my life.  Did I get an answer?  Yes and no.  There were no bugles at the time.  However, at this point I think it is safe to say my wish was granted.  In the process, I became convinced this was my Destiny.

Did I ever tell anyone about the uncanny streak of good fortune and coincidence that got me started?  No.  Who would believe me?  For fear of ridicule, I never told a soul. 

THE SUPERNATURAL DRY SPELL

Fate: The development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. 
 

The unexpected appearance of Mrs. Ballantyne in the midst of the worst crisis of my life is what inspired my lifelong interest in Fate.  At the time, I was unable to think of a single Realistic Reason to explain her highly coincidental appearance at my grocery store.  Plagued by uncertainty, I began to read every book I could find on Mysticism.  No, not Black Magic or Witches or Evil Spells, not that kind of Mysticism.  I was more interested in seeing what people thought about the meaning of Coincidences.  I found what I was looking for in a book called Memories, Dreams and Reflections.  The book was written by Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, a man who was just as interested in studying Coincidence as I was. 

"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.

Dr. Jung had a suggestion.  Keep a List of every unusual experience.  As the List grew larger, at some point Dr. Jung predicted we would be stunned by the utter improbability of it all.  And that is exactly what happened to me.  Personally, I thought Mrs. Ballantyne's coincidence was one in a million.  That was almost good enough right there.  But it was the cumulative effect that convinced me.  Assigning a modest 'one in ten' to every coincidence, the odds that every weird thing that happened to me was an 'Accident' were so remote that I soon saw what Dr. Jung meant by an 'Astronomical Figure'. 

Age 20, the List stood at 25 events.  Age 23, the List stood at 34 events.  Then things began to accelerate.  Age 24, the List stood at 43.  Age 27, the List stood at 58.  Then came the start of the Magic Carpet Ride.  Age 28, the List shot up to 73.  Age 29, the List stood at 88.  I was astonished.  30 coincidences in the space of two years!!  The word 'Preposterous' crossed my mind.  No one deserved to be this lucky, but here I was, a young man with limited dance talent and limited experience who had just become the best-known Disco teacher in the city.  With each new coincidence, any doubt I had regarding the existence of God dwindled away.  Somewhere during this incredible two-year span, I simply gave up worrying about it.  In the process of tracking all the strange things that happened to me, I reached a very serious conclusion...  there really is something called Fate. 

I thought about something Bing Crosby once said. 

"Honestly, I think I've stretched a talent which is so thin it's almost transparent over a quite unbelievable term of years."

I recalled that Kirk Douglas had said something very similar. 

"For me, the one thing in my life I always knew was that I wanted to be an actor.  That in itself is an asset.  I think half of success in life comes from finding out what you want to do, and then going ahead and doing it.  Of course, you need fierce determination, and you need to love your work.  But let's be honest:  You need a hell of a lot of luck.  I had that by the bushels."   

Well aware that I could have made both statements about myself, I concluded I must be leading a charmed life.  What else could it be?   If my lucky breaks had been limited to one or two, I could have overlooked my perpetual good fortune as one of those things.  But as the List kept growing, so did my belief that my dance career was being guided by a Higher Power. 

Something very special took place in 1980.  Age 30, I had just finished two years as a dance teacher.  At the time I subleased space at a dance studio known as Stevens of Hollywood.  The owner, Lance Stevens, seriously disliked me.  Was his animosity justified?  No.  I showed the man infinite respect despite his hostility.  I might add I made him a lot of money.  Do you want to know what I think was his problem?  Mr. Stevens knew from the start that I was unqualified for the job.  He wanted to replace me, but for some strange reason could not find anyone.  To his astonishment I continued to succeed in spite of my limitations.  So put yourself in his shoes.  This was a man who did not believe in the Supernatural.  And yet he was forced to watch in disbelief as I dodged one bullet after another.  Meanwhile my program grew ever larger.  Unable to reconcile my uncanny success with my obvious lack of dance ability, I think my existence defied his sense of Reality.  Someone as pathetic as me had no business succeeding to this extent.  Finally, Mr. Stevens couldn't take it anymore.  Using the flimsiest of excuses, he evicted me.

I was given less than two weeks to find a dance studio large enough to accommodate 600 students a week.  Forget it.  Dance programs as large as mine cannot find adequate space in this short of time.  By coincidence... there's that word again... my current dance teacher had just moved to a new location a month ago.  Unfortunately Glen had gambled and lost.  Hoping for an infusion of new ballet and jazz students, if anything Glen had lost students in the move.  His new studio was much too large and he was having serious trouble paying his exorbitant rent.  As it stood, I was the convenient answer to his problem, he was the convenient answer to my problem.  It was a huge lucky break for both of us, almost like it was (dare I say it?) meant to be.  Thanks to being in the 'Right Place at the Right Time', my dance program never skipped a beat.  This new studio would be my home until the day I retired 30 years later.  During that time, SSQQ became the largest independent dance studio in the country.  Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it? 

Something odd happened after the big move.  Now that my program had found a secure location, the pace of the Supernatural Events slowed down.  Age 34, the List stood at 102.  That is when the Supernatural Dry Spell kicked in.  Indeed, the moment my List of 'Suspected' Supernatural Events crossed the 100 threshold, the Supernatural Events came to a complete stop in 1984 .  Oddly enough, I never noticed.  Although I typically added two or three events per year to my List, they occurred so randomly that their disappearance was not obvious.  It took me ten years to figure it out.

So how did I catch on?  In 1994, I brought my daughter Sam, age 3, to a water volleyball party at Tom Easley's house.  Unfortunately I forgot to bring a water vest and Sam did not know how to swim.  Irritated at my negligence, I made a solemn vow.  I absolutely positively swore that no matter what I would NOT take my eyes off Sam when she was in the water.  And I kept that vow.  Sam did okay with a float, so during breaks in the action I let her paddle around while I watched like a hawk within arm's reach.  Right before the next game started, Sam and I put our arms on the edge of the pool to rest for a moment.  Sam was on my LEFT six inches away.  Tom swam over to speak to me.  At the exact moment I turned to look at Tom on my RIGHT, Sam let go of the ledge and sank straight to the bottom of the pool.  Did I see it?  No.  I had my back turned.  Did I hear it or feel it?  No.  Did Tom see it?  No.  Fortunately, our friend Carol sitting nearby did see it happen.  She reacted instantly and dove in.  Although Sam was not hurt, I was in shock.  The one moment I took my eye off Sam the entire day, she had done the unthinkable and let go of the ledge.  That was Coincidence number one.  Equally bizarre was Sam's decision to let go.  She was old enough to recognize how dangerous this was.  That was Coincidence number two.  Coincidence three is that both my mistake and her mistake occurred simultaneously.  For these reasons I was on instant Supernatural Alert. 

I concluded there is a difference between Rick's Will and God's Will.  The irony here was that I had staked my honor on keeping Sam safe, yet failed due to a distraction plus Sam's inexplicable decision to let go of the pool's edge.  To this day I have no idea why she let go.  That said, Sam was not hurt.  So it was not her Fate to suffer.  That is why I decided this event was staged to teach me a lesson.  No matter how hard I try, I cannot outwit Fate. 

“With God, all things are possible.” -- Matthew 19:26

Hmm.  If God wants Sam at the bottom of the pool, it will happen.  Never had this scary concept been more clear.  When I got home that night I quickly added this incident to my Supernatural List.  That is when my jaw dropped.  It had been TEN YEARS since I made my last entry.

Isaac Asimov once said, "Having no unusual coincidence is far more unusual than any coincidence could possibly be."  Here again, I could have said the exact same thing.  Good grief, my life had been normal for ten years and I never even noticed.  Not only that, it would be SEVEN MORE YEARS before the next Supernatural Event (I have Marla to thank for that, but let's not get ahead of our story).

During my 17-year Supernatural Dry Spell, Sam's strange accident was the only event worthy of making my List.  Curious, I traced back to what was going on in 1984.  That was the year I suddenly realized my struggle to succeed against tough odds was over.  The studio's reputation was so positive at this point, I recalled thinking the future success of the studio was guaranteed. 

What was the Turning Point?  Word of mouth.  Once Doug and Ava became the first to marry in late 1983, 1984 saw a flurry of ensuing marriages.  Love was in the air and the studio's rumor mill went crazy.  So many students had found love at Cupid's Playground, they turned around and told their friends, their co-workers, neighbors, relatives, you name it.  Want to find a Boyfriend?  Go to SSQQ.  Want to find a Girlfriend?  Go to SSQQ.  Once the studio acquired its reputation as the easiest place in the city to find love, my worries were over.  In 32 years, I never had a single reason to advertise.

Yes, I attributed this to Fate.  I never lifted a finger to create the studio's fine reputation.  It just 'happened'.  When I told my friends about my observation, several of them praised me.  They said my talent and hard work was responsible.  Unfortunately, their praise made me feel very uncomfortable.  As I have said, I did not believe I possessed the talent to create something this special on my own.  Lance Stevens thought I was the luckiest bastard on earth.  Maybe so, but I secretly attributed my success to Divine Intervention. 

Although I was convinced credit for this wonderful place belonged to the Lord, did I tell anyone?  No.  Sensitive topics such as Fate and Divine Intervention belong in a church, not in a polite conversation.  Even if someone is willing to listen, these topics are extremely difficult to explain.  It would require a BOOK to list all the reasons why I had reached my conclusions.  Plus there was no guarantee people would believe me.  Besides, I was too busy running the studio to write a book.  Nevertheless, in the privacy of my own thoughts, I was certain the studio was my Destiny. 

Why had I received all this good fortune?  I believed I had been entrusted with a duty to take good care of the studio.  I felt this studio was my sacred responsibility, something similar to Winston Churchill's 'Walking with Destiny', but certainly on a far less dramatic scale.  I also decided God had stopped sending me lucky breaks because I did not need them anymore.  Having learned my lessons, at this point I was more than capable of running the studio on my own.  So for 17 years my life was just as normal as the next guy.  Then one day I met Marla. 

Serious

TRANSFORMATION

Here was the problem with my Supernatural Dry Spell.  No longer dependent on divine help to succeed, over a period of 17 years I lost sight of my relationship with God.  Of course the studio was still important, but somehow it had turned into a job, no longer quite so sacred.  Here on the Tahoe ski trip, I felt ashamed of myself.  I had lost sight of my spiritual commitment to nurture the special sense of warmth that once permeated the studio.  I felt immense sorrow. 

During the Golden Era of the studio, my friends called me 'Leader of the Pack'.  What was wrong with me?  Where had that person gone to?  Although I was happy to be reunited with my friends, at the same time I felt keen regret.  Throughout my career, I had always been a better leader when I was single, aka the Seesaw Effect.  Being single had given me the freedom to organize activities.  However, married life during the Nineties had changed that.  I would rather spend weekends with my wife and daughter than go dancing with the Singles crowd.  As a result, the close ties I helped create in the Eighties were allowed to wither in the Nineties.  I had no one to blame but myself.  Thank goodness my friends had kept this fine ski tradition alive without me.  As I skied with people who had met through SSQQ, the camaraderie I witnessed was just like old times. 

The strength I drew from this group was a shot in the arm because it reminded me of what I had once accomplished.  That was the moment I snapped back to my senses.  I had just discovered the secret purpose of this trip.  Seeing my old friends had ignited a powerful desire to do it all over again.  If I could snap out of my depression and get my head screwed on right, I knew I could recapture this energy.  On the plane trip home I made a solemn promise to try again with my current generation of SSQQ students.  It was time for the Leader of the Pack to make a comeback. 

On the plane ride home, I gave it some thought.  It was too late to try a ski trip.  But what about Alan Fox and his cruise trip suggestion?