Friday, May 30, 2008
The World Turned Pink
Submitted to Passeger Journal for winter 09 publication
The world turned pink the year I turned 10; the year I was allowed to enter the shiny realm of pink ballet toe shoes. Mrs. Raphael’s basement classroom was lined with mirrors and wooden railings that served as ballet bars. That November day was cold; the sidewalks coated with a crust of ice. I floated to class on an invisible layer of pink air, joyfully carrying my striped ballet box containing my new treasures. It was finally my day to go On Pointe.
I was a bit chubby with “pinchable” cheeks and black ringlet curls but one of the stars of the dance class. Mrs. Raphael greeted me with a knowing smile. She helped me apply the lambs wool pads over my toes and to properly slip into the hard-toed shoes secured by cherished pink ribbons that wound up the lower calf.
The room must have been bustling with noise as my classmates arrived, but today; my world was reduced to Mrs. Raphael, my pink wrapped feet and getting onto Pointe. I remember facing the bar while my beloved teacher encouraged me to stand on pointe, first with the right foot and then the left. She directed me to “do a Demi Plie in second position”, and then onward to Arabesque and eventually, Pirouette. My heroines of Pointe, Maria Tallchief, and Dame Margo Fonteyn danced in my head as I danced on the classroom floor. Life was perfect, pink and my dreams were fulfilled.
The world turned pink the year I turned 10; the year I was allowed to enter the shiny realm of pink ballet toe shoes. Mrs. Raphael’s basement classroom was lined with mirrors and wooden railings that served as ballet bars. That November day was cold; the sidewalks coated with a crust of ice. I floated to class on an invisible layer of pink air, joyfully carrying my striped ballet box containing my new treasures. It was finally my day to go On Pointe.
I was a bit chubby with “pinchable” cheeks and black ringlet curls but one of the stars of the dance class. Mrs. Raphael greeted me with a knowing smile. She helped me apply the lambs wool pads over my toes and to properly slip into the hard-toed shoes secured by cherished pink ribbons that wound up the lower calf.
The room must have been bustling with noise as my classmates arrived, but today; my world was reduced to Mrs. Raphael, my pink wrapped feet and getting onto Pointe. I remember facing the bar while my beloved teacher encouraged me to stand on pointe, first with the right foot and then the left. She directed me to “do a Demi Plie in second position”, and then onward to Arabesque and eventually, Pirouette. My heroines of Pointe, Maria Tallchief, and Dame Margo Fonteyn danced in my head as I danced on the classroom floor. Life was perfect, pink and my dreams were fulfilled.
# posted by Ann Carol @ 3:37 PM 
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Hi, Ann Carol,
I am the daughter of Katherine Raphael, your ballet teacher. Perhaps you remember me. My mother died in 2002 at almost 90. She remained graceful throughout her life. My sister Judy and I are thrilled to read your nice tribute to our mother. Thank you!
Please contact me. It would be fun to reminisce about our shared Rochester days.
Ann Raphael Berndt
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I am the daughter of Katherine Raphael, your ballet teacher. Perhaps you remember me. My mother died in 2002 at almost 90. She remained graceful throughout her life. My sister Judy and I are thrilled to read your nice tribute to our mother. Thank you!
Please contact me. It would be fun to reminisce about our shared Rochester days.
Ann Raphael Berndt
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