Ballet--my grandniece Natali Groppa

 In this YouTube you will see my grandniece, Natali Groppa, auditioning for a ballet course in Switzerland. I will do a blog along this line, once we are home from camping at Cultus Lk. But in the meantime...enjoy Natali. What a beautiful young lady she has turned out to be! The last time I saw her was when Peter and I went for a visit in 2006. We were hardly inside when she asked if she could dance for us. How lovely was that! What a treat! What passion!!! She is my brother's granddaughter, who lives in Carlos Paz, Cordoba, Argentina.

Natalí Groppa - YouTube

"In life as in the dance: Grace glides on blistered feet. 

- Alice Abram

   "On your toes now!"

  Hilda

We are back, and..."Shall we Dance...?"  

•  Mia (Braun) Kaethler--three houses down from our place in Buenos Aires, Argentina--when she heard that we were moving to Canada (April, 1961), said to my Mom: “What a pity...She is such a good dancer,” knowing that in Canada I would not be dancing.
• I don’t think I was such a good dancer, but what I had in me was “rhythm.”  Whenever music came on I just had to move. My paternal great-grandfather, Johann Siemens, must have been blessed with that as well, because he was known to have danced his boots down to the soles--back in the Molotchna days. I heard about this in 2010 while visiting  my relatives in Germany. 
•   My father too enjoyed music. About five of years after he had died, my mother made the comment: “He could play any instrument that he picked up.” But, not my mother. I remember her singing...and now and then she would go off pitch. But that didn't stop her. Around the same time, I must have been ten years old, she made the comment: "In order for the violin to sound good, you have to make it 'cry.'”
• Strange how some comments stay with you for life...

• My father, Johann Janzen, back row, third from left. I think he must have been in grade 7 or 8. Photo was taken in the Molotchna.

•   Our dining room and sitting room were divided by partial walls, each side draped with medium weight, off white brocade curtains. Whenever lively music was being played on the radio, I would make a quick dash into the sitting room, release the curtains from their tassels, slide the curtains shut and  immediately throw them open and my dancing would begin. If I could find a flared skirt, that was even better. The problem was, that the brown flared skirt, the one and only one in the house, was on my sister. My mother’s lovely evening gowns were way too big on me. Being the pain that I was and being very persistent, because the music had begun and I was in a hurry, my mother, just to shut me up, would say: “Erica, na jef äa den doch!” (well, just give it to her already-Low Ger). Without further ado, she took off her skirt, leaving her in her white slip, needless to say none too happy, and I scampering into it and running back to “my stage” where I would twirl, twist and turn to my hearts content until the music ended. 
•   As you can tell, I too had a passion for dancing, but couldn’t take dance classes because, when I asked if that could be a possibility, my Mom's reply was: “Ministe daunce nich” (Mennonites don’t dance.” LG). How she ever came up with that answer I will never know, because dancing is what we did for entertainment at weddings, home parties, or in rented halls to bring in the New Year. Some of us would stay up till 4 o’clock in the morning! 
•   Not sure if it was a financial problem...I think she just didn’t want to bother with lessons and all that. Too much trouble...By now she was almost fifty years old and far too laid back...
•   One of our neighbours, whom we called “Porota” (kidney bean, Sp.),–-I have no idea what her real name is or where she got that name from–-was so sad that we were leaving, she went back home and gave me this photograph of her daughter Luci, in her Spanish dance costume. We were about the same age.

       Is this not a beautiful photograph? One of a kind, I am sure.

•   I once went along to one of Luci’s dance classes. I was fascinated by the dancers and mesmerized by the instructor. I thought she was sooo beautiful...She had so much pizazz, so sure of herself as she called out instructions and demonstrated while playing the “castañuelas” (castanets-Sp.) with her perfectly manicured red fingernails. 

       I bought these castañuelas in Barcelona, Spain, July 2000.

•   My Mom and I were lucky enough to be invited to one of Luci’s dance performances which was held outdoors, in a large walled in school yard. It was another lovely warm evening, and the place was packed. We must have arrived early enough to find pretty good seats close to the stage. Luci was beautiful again, this time in a tutu and “bailarina” slippers, which I later begged to put on as we were walking home on our street called Antonio Malaver (1835-1897). But to me, the most beautiful one of all, was a young girl, who’s costume was covered in pearls. I thought she was so stunning!
•   As for Luci, my friend, sad to say, when she turned 18, she left home for good and never spoke to her mother again until many years later--when she needed her. She had been under so much pressure from her mom to perform and achieve to get all those trophies, that she snapped under all that pressure and left home. Luci was never the same again. Years later she had a child but couldn’t even take care of it.
•   I saw Porota in 1975, and it was some time after that, when she moved in with Luci, to care for her and her grandchild. 
•   Now, back to moving to Canada when I was 11 years old...And as we drove off I looked out of the back seat window. I waved good bye to Juan, Erica, and Porota, until they were out of sight...There may have been a couple of other people, but all I remember are these three.
•   Once we arrived in Wembley, Alberta, where my uncle/step-father had a grain farm...I found a friend in Carol, she was everything to me...We were about the same age, but I was her cousin-aunt. She meant well and wanted to get me “saved” in the worst way. Her dream was to become a missionary when she grew up and save all the little heathens in Africa. It was after one of these episodes that I found my mom in the kitchen, stirring a pot of food, that I told her about Carol wanting me to get saved and all that and she very calmly asked: “And why don’t you want to?"
•  “Dan kaun ekj nijch mea daunse...!”(Then I can’t dance any more, LG).
•  She didn’t say anything. Just kept stirring...

Hilda