On Wednesday night, April 13, a bomb scare at the Jewish Community Center interrupted my long-awaited teaching opportunity.  Stunned to see my crowning achievement 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 there in the parking lot.  At the time, I had no way of knowing that this was the first of four 'Stepping Stones' that guided me to the start of my dance career in January 1978.

Technically speaking, I suppose a case could be made that my dance career started on April 13 with the first Stepping Stone.  However, I prefer to think of the Bomb Scare Event more as the official end to the Lost Years.  From here on out, I knew where I wanted to go.  The Bomb Scare Event marked the start of a nine-month interim period leading up to January's Main Event similar to Spring Training in baseball or Off-Broadway.  My 'Home Stretch' as I referred to it was my chance to practice teaching before the pressure hit in January.

Thursday, April 14, marked the second of seven unusual events during my Home Stretch.  When I came to work in the morning, Elena spotted me.  Elena 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.  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."

I was tickled to see our dance ritual return.  Thank goodness Elena had forgiven me for leaving her standing at the door following our sensational night of dancing at the Rubaiyat.  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, I showed her my pattern.  Elena was impressed.

"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, so without me, you would still be a nobody.  Be sure to put me in your book when you become famous.  And don't forget to 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." 

And with that, Elena returned to 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, Elena's warmth indicated I had done the right thing 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.  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.  Yeah, like this happens every day, right?  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.  Once upon a time, I had a world of ambition inside of me.  Colorado State had killed most of that ambition and my inability to do much good in my Child Neglect job had turned the lights down low.  However, last night's success and Elena's support today 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 had just spotted my opening.  Time to make my move!  Possessed by an overwhelming desire to prepare an imaginary dance class, I spent two hours concocting a syllabus using patterns Becky, Rosalyn and Patsy had taught me.  Then I added my 'Year of the Cat' creation for good luck.  I was proud of myself.  I was looking at a three-page syllabus for a two month course complete with a detailed lesson plan for each class.

Just then my bubble popped.  Reality kicked in to rudely interrupt my reverie.  What was I thinking??  I was a one-time 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 the last 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 stuck my syllabus in my desk drawer and got back to work. 

Tuesday, April 19, 1977, HOME STRETCH fate knocks on my door

It was Tuesday evening, April 19.  I was in the middle of playing volleyball at the Jewish Community Center.  Six days had passed since my Bombshell class.  I glanced over and noticed a woman entering the gym.  How could I not notice?   I had been playing volleyball at the JCC for three years.  Rachel was the only one woman who had ever been in here.  Was it 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, Rosalyn is not my girlfriend.  However she is pretty important."

Rosalyn came over to the sideline and sat down on the bleachers.  I waved to let her know I had seen her.  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 greet her, 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 to accept 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 be willing to substitute for me this summer and teach my class?  That way I can accept my sabbatical with a clear conscience.  Please say yes.  I don't have the time to train someone else.  You are the only person I know who can fill in for me at the last minute."

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 probably just as excited to go to Washington as I was to accept her offer.  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.  Hmm.  Maybe that is why Rosalyn had been so quick to allow me to substitute.  She wanted to see how I did before making an offer.  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. 

"Thank you so much!"

Rosalyn smiled.  "You are more than welcome.  I will see you tomorrow night.  We can talk more then."

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".   Although Rosalyn had known about this Washington, D.C., opportunity for a while, she had not made her mind up.  However, she had rushed to the JCC tonight because her boss told her he wanted an answer.  In other words, it was a major coincidence that my big break took place at the same time as her big break. 

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.  I don't why, but there was a certainty present within me that these lucky breaks were happening for a reason.  I do not know if this was Precognition, but it felt that way.  As we shall see, this class became the second of four 'Stepping Stones' which guided me to the start of my dance career.

The Lost Years were over.  The Magic Carpet Ride was getting closer.

Wednesday, June 15, 1977, the disco years SUMMER CLASS AT THE JCC

The date was Wednesday, June 15.  I could barely contain my excitement as I drove to the Jewish Community Center to begin teaching my summer class.  My summer Disco Line Dance course consisted of 10 one-hour classes.  My 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 was unfazed as I taught 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.  My friend Patsy Swayze had suggested I turn my sense of humor loose, so I did.  Whenever there was too much silence, I enjoyed goofing around.  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.  One of the best teachers I ever had was Mr. Curran.  He had us in stitches so often that we got in the habit of listening carefully to everything he said for fear of missing something funny.  Besides, people get frustrated when they don't catch on quickly.  Laughter is the best remedy.  I teased people whenever something funny happened and 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."

"Maybe so, but I was perfect in my previous lifetime." 

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 an older lady tripped and hurt herself.  While I made sure she was okay, everyone was worried about her.  So I told a dance joke to ease the tension. 

"A dance instructor stepped on a lady's foot during class.  The foot got infected and they had to amputate.  But the doctor accidentally cut off the wrong foot.  When the lady threatened to sue the instructor for incompetence, he replied, "Don't bother, you won't have a leg to stand on."

I got in the habit of saying any dumb thing I could think of and it seemed to work.  It occurred to me this classroom banter had originated with Elena.  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.  And I made sure to fight back.  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 talk to pretty girls.  To my surprise, all that bickering had also prepared me to tease the people in my dance class.  Kind of strange how that worked out.  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? 

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 helped 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 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 students 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. 

Over the years, I had thought many times about becoming a teacher.  I saw how teachers had helped me, so now I wanted to return the favor someday.  However, I had always dismissed the fantasy.  What would I teach?  Would I be any good at it?  Plus I had no training and I stubbornly resisted the thought of going back to school to obtain credentials.  So I found it very strange that I had received training without knowing it, there would no need to go back to college, and, best of all, I was really good at this. 

Another strange thing is that in 50 years of teaching, I met at most a half-dozen students who were as bad as I me 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 weird that I had refused to quit once I realized I lacked natural ability.  Furthermore, how could I expect to succeed as a teacher?    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.  While I appreciated the compliment, 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 into a dance teacher was preposterous.  It made as much sense as a dyslexic English teacher or a hearing-impaired music teacher.  Be that as it may, my Dance Project had connected me with my one true skill, my teaching ability.  It was very curious how everything worked out so nicely.  Some might even say it was meant to be. 

Wednesday, august 17, 1977, the disco years graduation night

I decided it was important to take my students dancing on our final night.  Calling it "Graduation Night", our tenth and final class was scheduled for August 17.  I noticed with a frown that this date closely matched the two-year anniversary of the Katie Disaster.  Consequently she was very much on my mind.  To be honest, Katie was always on my mind.  I had never forgotten her.  Not once in the past two years had I met a single woman who possessed anywhere near the same spark as my gentle friend.  I considered walking away from Katie to be the worst mistake of my life.  The searing memory of my cowardice had haunted me ever since.  Nor was there any guarantee another Katie was waiting for me down the road.  It crossed my mind that women like Katie come along once in a lifetime. 

Fortunately, I had my dance class to distract me.  Teaching this JCC class was my passion.  On the first night of class, I had promised my students to take them dancing for Graduation Night.  By promoting the event over a ten-week period I was able to generate considerable interest.  We would visit the Rubaiyat, a popular Disco located three miles west of the JCC. 

One of my students asked where the 'Rubaiyat' got its name.  I explained the theme of the Rubáiyát is 'carpe diem', seize the day.  People should enjoy the present and make good use of the remaining time available in life.  Omar Khayyám, the writer, was said to be Fatalistic.  That was an intriguing thought because our upcoming JCC Graduation adventure had Fate written all over it.  Not only did our visit to the Rubaiyat parallel the two-year anniversary of my stunning collapse with Katie, it also prompted memories of how Jack's incompetence as a teacher and his predatory ways had scarred me for life.

My biggest problem during the Melody Lane Disaster had been remembering what I had learned in Jack's Ballroom class.  If Jack had taken the time to review his material prior to the event, I would have done much better.  Based on that painful experience, I made sure my tenth and final JCC class consisted of non-stop review.  Putting the full hour to good use, we had enough time to cover every line dance I had taught TWICE.  With the patterns fresh in their mind, surely my students could remember the moves long enough to repeat them at the Rubaiyat later on. 

After our class ended, we headed over to the nightclub.  To my surprise, Jack was more on my mind than Katie.  My bitterness towards Jack knew no limits.  Recalling how Jack had thrown me to the wolves, two years later I still carried a grudge.  Nor was I the only person Jack had set up to fail at Melody Lane.  He did not lift a finger to support our group of fledgling dancers.  Instead he spent the night hustling my lovely friend Katie.  Jack's negligence caused every one of his students to fail miserably.  With even the most basic support from Jack, I would have been spared the intense humiliation that caused me to leave early.  Who knows, if Jack had done his job right, Katie and I might be together today.  For this reason, I would never forgive this man I considered a villain as long as I lived.  Tonight was my chance at Redemption.  Because I had struggled so much at Melody Lane, I was determined to be an excellent host at the Rubaiyat.  I would not dream of treating my own students so callously.  

Back when I started my summer class, I had a decision to make.  Should I invite my students to join me on a weekend when the Rubaiyat would be more crowded and energetic?  Or should I ask them to join me immediately following our Wednesday class?  I decided to go straight after class while the material was fresh in their mind.  I worried attendance would be affected since it was a week night and people had jobs to go in the morning.  Fortunately, my ten weeks of promotion had made our adventure sound like the greatest thing since the invention of popcorn.  Twenty people participated, two-thirds of my original class.  I was pleased with the turnout, but my students looked pretty lost as they straggled into the Rubaiyat one by one.  I concluded most of them had never been to a dance club.  That would explain why they looked so intimidated.  I welcomed each person and guided them to tables I had claimed in an isolated corner of the room.  

During the initial stage of the evening, the students sat there with the pallor of someone going to a funeral.  No one danced.  No one talked.  No one asked anyone's name.  Dead silence.  Several students were so nervous they looked ready to bolt at any moment.  Sensing their jitters, I told everyone to be patient and wait for the rest of our group to arrive.  For lack of anything better to do, the students took my advice and ordered a drink for courage.  They spent their time silently staring out at the dance floor.  Watching the dance floor did not help matters at all.  The skill and confidence shown by the experienced dancers was so menacing my students fearfully stayed glued to their seats.  This caused a flash of déjà vu.  Their helplessness was reminiscent of Jack's Melody Lane group.  No one had the courage to dance at Melody Lane and no one had the courage to dance at Rubaiyat.  Remembering how lost I had been two years ago, I didn't blame anyone for being scared.  I knew exactly how they felt because I had walked in their shoes.

What they needed was a leader.  After all, if they possessed the guts to go out dancing on their own, then they wouldn't have needed to take my class, would they?  Clearly this band of Lost and Lonelies could use my help.  Fortunately they had nothing to worry about.  I had failed because I was stuck with Black Jack.  These people would succeed because they had me.  Big difference.  Okay, the gang is here now, so let's get the party started.   I called out "Four Corners!"  That was their favorite line dance because it was so easy to remember.  Shazaam!!  The words 'Four Corners' was instant Magic, a call to action.  The group popped up from their chairs and followed me eagerly to the floor like little ducklings.  I laughed.  Call me Mother Goose.  Seeing how this was a weeknight, the club wasn't very crowded.  Since the dance floor was only half full, our group had plenty of room to assemble.  With me acting as Fearless Leader, the group performed the Four Corners to perfection.  As I hoped, the review during class paid off big time.  My students aced their first test with flying colors.  I was proud of them and I was proud of myself.  I was especially pleased to note how their first taste of success did wonders for their confidence.  Watching them laugh and dance with enthusiasm, I was tickled pink. 

When the song was over, the students clapped to congratulate themselves.  The Four Corners had broken the ice.  Now that we were on the floor, I wanted them to stay on the floor.  This time I yelled out "Bus Stop!", a popular line dance they knew from class.  The Bus Stop sealed the deal.  From this point on, I could not drag them off the floor.  I led one line dance after another.   Over the next 30 minutes we covered every line dance we had learned in class.   The DJ helped by playing the big hits.  Vickie Sue Robinson belted out Turn the Beat Around.  Donna Summer cooed Love to Love Ya, Baby.  Gloria Gaynor sang I'm Your Honey Bee.  The hits rolled on.  Shake Your Booty, KC and the Sunshine Band.  Don't Leave Me This Way, Thelma Houston.  Disco Inferno. the Trammps.  I led a different line dance to every song.  Our group had so much energy, several Rubaiyat regulars decided to join us.  We had a blast.

When we finally took a break, one of the regulars said, "Thank you for doing these line dances.  I like to line dance, but we don't do many line dances here at the club.  Mostly it is just freestyle.  This was fun."

The man had told me something I did not know.  I had only been to a Disco once in two years, my night with Elena.  Consequently I had been unaware that Line Dancing was nowhere near as popular as I thought.  I had not taught any Freestyle to my JCC class , so that gave me an idea.  Speaking in a loud voice from the dance floor, I said, "Hey, y'all, get back out here.  I have a surprise for you."

Ten people came while the other half held back.  When the group assembled, I said, "We are going to do some Freestyle!"

The students looked very worried.  "But Rick, we don't know Freestyle!!"

"I know, I know.  Calm down.  Just get behind me and copy what I do."

This was a spontaneous idea, so I was curious how it would work out.  I remembered how Disco Dave used to teach his Freestyle class three years ago.  I used this experience to know how to pull this off.  With my back turned to the students, I began an impromptu session of 'Simon Says'.  I began with 'Side-Touch', the most basic move.  We did it for 30 seconds.  Then it was 'Step Together Step Tap', the most common line dance footwork.  I repeated the same dance step five or six times till they got it, then I switched to another move.  Eventually I added 'Step Ball Change', my downfall at the Dance Class from Hell.  I ruefully noted my students did far better than I did.  Then came 'About Face' and 'Jazz Square', two moves I had learned from Patsy Swayze.  After introducing ten moves, I repeated the cycle.  At this point, the missing ten students had joined us.  Behold the power of Mother Goose.  My leadership had enabled my faint of heart ducklings to enjoy a full night of dancing. 

However, there was a moment of embarrassment.  I noted with chagrin how my students picked up these moves a lot faster than I had when I started.  I recalled all those hours in the Magic Mirror trying to perfect these same moves.  I found it humiliating to see my students learn so much quicker than me.  Oh well, it is what it is.  Yes, I had learned to dance at a turtle's pace, but I got there eventually, that was the important thing.  I put my past struggles out of my mind and concentrated on the job at hand.  I stuck to the easiest steps and gave everyone a fighting chance to catch on. 

I laughed when I saw the same Rubaiyat regular join us for Simon Says.  When we were done, I asked him, "What are you doing out here?  You already know these moves!"

The man grinned.  "Yeah, but you have some really cute girls in your group.  You never know, maybe one of them will notice me."

Unfortunately, the other club regulars did not have the same positive attitude.  While I conducted my impromptu dance class on the floor, several regulars left the floor in protest.  Noting the hostility on their faces, they saw us as unworthy invaders.  I guess there are snobs anywhere you go.  I even saw a couple of jerks laugh at us.  Fortunately, my presence as Fearless Leader plus the size of our group made everyone feel safe enough to ignore stares and mild derision.  It crossed my mind that without my leadership, those looks of contempt might have chased my students back to their seats. 

After the first round of drinks helped calm the nerves, the second round erased any remaining shyness.  My students relaxed and gained confidence as the evening progressed.  After the 'Simon Says' Freestyle exercise ended, several of my students knew the steps well enough to stay out there and practice on their own.  Soon everyone was asking each other to dance and the students began to pair off.  It helped that the boy-girl ratio was nearly perfect.  Consequently no one sat down for long.  They were having too much fun dancing to waste this opportunity.  I retreated to the shadows and watched as my students danced up a storm. 

Sitting alone, I was full of pride.  My little itty bitty heart was beating pitter-patter with satisfaction.  Ask any kindergarten teacher how she feels after her kiddos master the ABCs.  I felt the same way.  My students had responded to my coaching and I loved every minute of it.

I noticed something else.  The birds and the bees had kicked in.  With their hot bodies in motion to the Disco beat, the students were definitely checking each other out.  I was amused to note the serious chemistry brewing out there.  This development was so unexpected that it made a deep impression on me.  Black Jack had shown when Ballroom dancing was performed properly, it had a magic effect on Katie.  I was pleased to note that Disco dancing was working a similar magic.  The dance floor had become a romantic playground for my students.

Alas, there would be no romance for me that night.  My date was the Ghost of Katie.  She sat next to me as I hid in the shadows.  Despite my sadness, I was pleased to have been given the honor of contributing my skill to the Graduation Night adventure.  It gave me immense satisfaction to tell the Ghost of Katie that I was a hell of lot of better at this than Black Jack.  I smiled when Katie agreed.

Rosalyn said I was a natural teacher.  Now I had discovered a second skill as a social director.  I had always wanted to be a social worker of some sort, but I certainly never guessed the Rubaiyat is where I would find my calling.  This evening would go down as one of the happiest moments of my career.  If I had my way, I would do this for the rest of my life.  This was a wish I really hoped would come true.  It had been three years since I was tossed from Graduate School.  What a relief to finally find something I was good at.  I did not believe I was here by accident.  I was convinced the Hidden Hand of God was involved.  

Suspicious

Serious

Suspicious

Serious