There’s too much hate in the news, so I’m just going to share that which is true. What you chose to do with it . . . . is entirely up to you.
Being self-taught and learning from advice, can at times be of great value . . . and in this case more fun.
Internally and structurally, I am the spitting image of my Korean mother and as I get older my understanding of why becomes much clearer . . . .
Still having her in my life and being a historic figure makes her only grow nearer and more dearer.
Looking back she told me, as she really was a vivacious woman . . . . and by the way, that trait never quite dissipates.
She told me once as she held my hand, “If you ever get the chance . . . .
A man who really knows how to dance . . . . can lead you so well, your body can tell . . . .
And the two of you will glide across the floor.”
Then she told me for some reason when it came to dancing, she only knew the man’s part, and gave me an awkward example of how he would lead.
(Everything we did, until this day . . . . always led and leads to laughter!)
Years later . . . . I got that one chance to have that one dance.
It’s called the “waltz”.
It was a Christmas party, and the ladies at our table were admiring this married couple gliding gracefully across the floor like nobody’s business.
The couple parted and wouldn’t you know it . . . . he headed straight for me!
He was tall, and I’m actually kind of tall given my interesting cultural blend . . . . so I reluctantly took him up on his offer.
I’m so happy I did!
The dance was everything my awesome Korean mother said it would be, and felt like it was as reported giddily . . . . it appeared equally graceful to be seen.
(I really hope that made visual sense!)
If you watch Fred Astaire (of course they’re professionals here), he watches and leads his lady . . . . carefully.
Okay, now imagine me thinking, “I’m all self-conscious, a klutz I’m going to step on his feet” . . . . and more.
Not at all.
Our arms were extended, he gently pushed with one hand, and pulled me with the other (I can still hear the words of my mother). . . .
It were as if for a moment life had no restricts . . . . and I was dancing the “Last Waltz” at a Christmas ball.
Some things . . . . you just cannot forget.
Like wonderful memories and Christmas in August.