Fame well deserved came to a young African American choreographer one night in 1960 when he premiered a new work at the 92nd St Y. The choreographer was 29 year-old Alvin Ailey, and the piece was Revelations.
Inspired by what Ailey called blood memories of his rural Texas childhood, and by Negro spirituals, gospel, and the blues, Revelations is about tribulation, human tenacity, and the saving grace of music and dance.
That cold January night in New York, Ailey and his young troupe brought down the house and Revelations made modern dance history. Ailey continued to work as a ground-breaking choreographer, and also as humanitarian, social activist, and cultural ambassador.
In 2014 he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his contributions to American dance, arts education, and civil rights. Sadly the award was given posthumously, but Alvin Ailey lives on in his revolutionary work, and the dance company and school of dance he founded.
Ailey’s American Dance Theatre tours the country throughout the year, performing at New York’s City Center traditionally in December when Revelations is always part of the program. One year as I was about to enter the hall, a taxi pulled up and Oprah Winfrey stepped out, “Thanks for your book club, and enjoy the dance!”, I called out to her.
This past December we were at City Center once again to see Revelations for the eighth or ninth time. It still has the power to free my spirit and rock my soul – go see it and be moved.
I have to admit I’m a bit of a neat freak, and I’ve always prided myself on being well organized. Marie Kondo is my hero, and in fact home organizing actually became my second career. (See Second Career)
And what I preached to my organizing clients, I practiced. I would never, ever leave dirty dishes in the sink, I’d fold the laundry as soon as it was out of the dryer, I would ruthlessly purge my inbox, and unsubscribe from all the annoying stuff in my junk folder.
And every night before I went to bed, I’d make sure the dining chairs were pushed in, the throw pillows on the couch were fluffed up, and all the empty coffee mugs, banana peels, and candy wrappers made it back to the kitchen. And if we’d been eating popcorn while watching Turner Classics, I might even give the rug a little late night dust-busting.
But I was most compulsive about making the bed every morning before I left the house. Even back in my pre-retirement days when I had to punch a clock at 8 AM, and was inevitably rushing out the door at 7:30 with a thermos of tea for the car, I’d never fail to take the time to make the bed.
Those were habits of a lifetime and I would have sworn I’d never, ever break them. I’d have sworn such habits die hard. I’d have sworn they were imbedded in my DNA.
But this is no ordinary time, and this is not life as we knew it. And so, it seems, this is my new normal.
