Socks in a Bag

From the age of 6 until about 11, I danced in the Sheila Tully School of Irish Dance.  (Apparently there is a website now.) We had the laced up leather soft shoes, the ornate celtic designs on dresses, and the night before a feis--the name for the dance competitions--we slept with curlers in our hair. Ouch. (Apparently, the girls wear wigs now.) I cannot find any pictures from this time in my life. A true tragedy.

Vintage two-toned Umbro Shorts

I remember all of our "practices" in the basement of my Catholic school. We practiced in our Umbro gym shorts, over-sized t-shirts, athletic white socks, and criss-cross-laced-dance shoes. I remember Sheila Tully--Herself--making that distinctly satisfying 'click-click' of a tape into the cassette player and pressing the play button, the distorted accordion sounds would blare, our promenading and hops in rhythmic unison...Doting mothers would stand in the hall chatting while their daughters worked on jigs, two hand reels, hornpipes, and if you were an older girl, the hard shoe dances, too.

Once, when we were lined up in formation with one toe pointed out, Sheila Tully, herself, walked down the line and stopped in front of my toes, "No socks today?" I shook my head no and my face went flush. My mother was not doting in the background during Irish dance class to see this embarrassment and she was certainly not keeping track of my socks. If I wanted to dance with socks, I would have to be the one putting the socks in my bag.

So here I am now, 20 years later, putting socks in a bag. This time I am not going to an Irish feis. I'm heading to Rio to perform in Carnival! My mother is not here to help me pack my socks either. Instead, I am packing for a trip because of everything she taught me. She taught me to do things for myself and to go after what I want. It's her absence, once again, that has shaped her influence on me. A year before my mom passed away, I remember her telling me that she wanted to go to some community dance event at a summer festival. She always wished she danced more. She didn't care if she was the only one over 60. I never had a chance to take her there. But I am taking her spirit with me on this specific journey to Brazil, with enough sunblock for the both of us.

When I told my Aunt Mary about this amazing trip down to Rio de Janeiro to dance with Samba schools, she told me, "You know, your mother always lived through you and all of your adventures. She would have done all the things you are doing if she could."

Last week, I was volunteering at a concert at the Old Town School of Folk Music, the miraculous organization that is helping send a group of us down to Rio. At that concert, I heard this song and it described the feeling of my mom and leaving on this trip. "My mother, she once told me, you you gotta be as bright as you can...my suitcase, it once told me, you gotta be as light as you can."