LIFE LESSONS
The Bucket List Pat Cirrincione
I remember it clearly. My “Bucket List,” created in my midthirties, was a list of what I wished to accomplish before I died. Was I ready to share this list, and my escapades, with the rest of you? After much prayer, thoughtful mind wrestling and more prayer, well why not. I couldn’t be the only one out there wondering if they should share a “bucket list,” and what if, just if, it could be a gift to another person? This seemed unbelievable, but then, a lot of unbelievable has happened since the Lord came into my life. As I mentioned, the list began in my mid-thirties…. the desire to do things I’d always wanted to do as a child growing up, but in a family of six that lived paycheck to paycheck, my dreams weren’t going to be fulfilled. There wasn’t money for music lessons, let alone dance, voice or drama classes. These were considered a frivolity when money was needed for food, clothing and bills. Instead, I lost myself in books and movies. I became Jo March from Little Women, Anne (with an E) of Green Gables and studied dance by watching Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly dance in their movies. I dreamt dreams of grandeur while helping the family get by, which wasn’t a hardship as I loved them all so much. Still, a girl can have her dreams of becoming the next prima ballerina. Hence, the “bucket list.” It consisted of taking ballet, tap and jazz classes, flute and piano lessons, voice and finding God (yes, in that order, again, what did I know). It began with taking ballet classes at a ballet studio that forced my first position turnout, (a big no-no when it came to adults like myself, because it could ruin your knees). Yet it was so exhilarating to be in pink tights and a black ballet leotard and pink ballet slippers, holding on to the ballet barre as I learned the five-ballet foot and arm positions. I was in heaven but wanted more than pliés and arm positions. I found another studio that trained its dancers to become real live ballerinas. My new ballet instructor told me not to expect much at my age as she handed me a band for my knee and asked why I was forcing a turnout. I was also told that I would never be able to accomplish the splits or earn my point shoes. Did that deter me? Always one to rise to the occasion of a challenge, I disciplined myself to work at home every day on the splits until I was able to do them and earned my point shoes. The hard work led to a small part in The Nutcracker! Imagine
that! Baryshnikov had everything on me! Four years later I was not only doing pointe classes but taking tap and jazz classes as well. I was in dance heaven! Eventually the director asked me to teach three- and four-year-olds the joy of ballet and to fill in teaching the new older adults like I had once been. Then it happened. I came down with dancer’s feet, with bunions that would surprise me with their pain as I was walking and make me hold on to a wall for support. Off I went to a podiatrist, who had begun his career in New York working with ballet dancers from the ballet companies located there. Yes, I needed surgery, and yes, if I kept dancing there could be a reoccurrence. Hence, my dancing career came to a screeching halt, but oh, what a thrill it had been! Meeting dancers from all over the world, doing workouts at LeBarre, and even getting invited to New York for a weekend to practice with New York City Ballet, which I never got to go to because of my surgery. After four years of hard work and enjoyment, it was over. Now what? Not one to be deterred, I decided that it was time for flute, piano and voice lessons! I began weekly piano lessons from the same woman who came to the house to teach our sons. She was very sweet but made me aware that I would need to practice a lot! My fingers required a nimbleness they no longer possessed. However, I stayed at it every day for about a year, and to this day, I can play a fairly decent Chopsticks. Flute was another story. My sister, who is very good at anything she does, was blowing into that instrument and emitting beautiful sounds from her second week on. Me, not so much. After three weeks, I still could not get one sound out of my flute, and the instructor even suggested that maybe I should just give
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