Post 42: I'm Dancing as Fast as I Can! 🩰

Hello, Friends!

I hope you had a great week! Thank you so much to everyone who preordered my memoir after the last newsletter! Apparently preorders greatly increase the odds of the book hitting the bestseller list… Who knew?! Just another little way to push this book to a wider audience! Anyway, I want to send a really quick note before Friday wraps up to let you know three things (two are time sensitive and one is just for fun):

1. I forgot how much I love dancing until I started taking Zumba classes last month! It’s something I have loved since a small child, as evidenced by the photo above. 💗 Below I posted an excerpt that was cut from the memoir during editing (the first draft was WAY too long and tough choices had to be made). It chronicles my love of dance and shows the value of creative, supportive adults in children’s lives.
   

2. There is another Substack Zoom coming up this Sunday afternoon! We are doing a book club this time around, and I would love for you to join us! If you are a paid subscriber, you will see the full Zoom link underneath the paywall, down below. For paid subscribers only; not a subscriber yet? Join at this link before Sunday!
   

   “WELCOMING THE UNWELCOME” by Pema Chodron

   Zoom Book Club is on Sunday, February 15th at 2pm CT / 3pm ET

   Read Chapters 1-3 ahead of time

3. I am excited to announce there is a Goodreads Giveaway for my memoir that runs from now until March 6th! Take advantage of this chance to win a free book by entering the contest here, and please tell your friends / share this link as well… The more of the merrier! ENTER THE GOODREADS GIVEAWAY BEFORE 6TH!

I’m Dancing as Fast as I Can by Gaelynn Lea

Around the same time I got my first electric wheelchair, my family was introduced to a remarkable woman named Jerry Hull. Jerry was a retired occupational therapist who volunteered as a respite nurse on the weekends. The Lion’s Club had referred her to us. She babysat me and my little brother Greg about once a month so my parents could go on a date.

Jerry seemed old to me when I met her, and she lived thirty more years after that! She had wiry gray hair that was molded close to her head, like a curly helmet. She was extremely fit for her age, priding herself on daily bike rides well into her nineties. Most often Jerry wore a light blue bicycle jersey and jeans – I don’t remember her dressing up for anything. She was too practical.

Despite her somewhat austere aesthetic, Jerry wasn’t a buzzkill. In fact, her blue eyes sparkled with delight whenever she took care of us. She absolutely loved kids – especially kids with disabilities. It was her unique gift. Once every few months she would gather us up like a litter of stray puppies, inviting six or eight kids with disabilities to spend the night at her place.

These evenings were the ultimate slumber parties, and they were also some of the only times outside of school when I saw other disabled kids. We’d play games and watch movies and talk until the wee hours of the morning, all while consuming tiny portions of delicious snack food. The portions were tiny because Jerry hated wasting food. I can still hear her voice uttering her most famous line: You can always have seconds or thirds – but first, eat what you take. Jerry delighted in discussing our dreams with us, and then finding ways to help us achieve them.

One day when I was around four years old, I told her I wanted to be a ballerina when I grew up. The next time she came over, Jerry brought me a small package. Inside was a little black t-shirt with hot pink letters on the front that read “I’m Dancing as Fast as I Can!” I loved that shirt and wore it until it was veritably threadbare.

“If you want to be a dancer,” she said, as I tried on the t-shirt, “Then you’ll have to take classes!”

Only then did Jerry reveal her true gift to me. For no other reason than love, Jerry had taken it upon herself to create a ballet class for disabled kids. She had basically just waltzed into our local ballet studio and told them that they had to start a brand new, adaptive dance class.

They obliged. It must have been too hard to say no to a little old lady, fierce with determination.

The class was taught by the lead ballerina in the ballet troupe. A few of her older ballet students volunteered so there were enough hands to help with positioning. Armed with a deep knowledge of dance and a big dose of imagination, she started with the basics and worked her way up.

At any given time, there were six to eight other kids in these ballet classes. All of us had different disabilities, so she would start by showing us a new move and then help us modify it for our individual bodies. Our dance moves were nowhere near uniform in appearance, but we did in fact learn all the positions and even ventured into “jumps” and barre work. As the months passed, our skills grew – by the end of the year, we had choreographed a mini-ballet for our inaugural recital. I starred as Little Red Riding Hood, and I reveled in this newfound spotlight.

I took adaptive ballet classes for the next five years, unaware of how remarkable it was to have this kind of opportunity when I was growing up. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized that adaptive dance classes simply did not exist for disabled kids like me, at least not in most U.S. cities in the late 1980’s. Yet somehow, my town did. I feel lucky to have grown up in Duluth.

I know many disabled people do not grow up feeling supported by their communities, but this wasn’t my childhood experience. The adults who impacted my life growing up in Duluth—especially the artists and musicians—were kind, creative, and inclusive.

While Duluth may have been a pioneer by offering ballet lessons for disabled kids in the late 1980’s, times have changed. Adaptive dance troupes are not such an anomaly these days. What’s more, today most children’s dance programming focuses on integration – disabled and nondisabled kids dancing together – rather than creating separate classes for students with disabilities. Nonetheless, the mission remains the same: to instill a love of all things dance!

I was incredibly lucky to have this supportive, nurturing class every week – a space that allowed me to explore my love of dance. In my case, this was all thanks to Jerry. This is why I believe all disabled kids deserve to know an adult who responds positively and proactively to their dreams.

That’s it for now friends! Paul and I are going to have dinner with my parents and play a nerdy detective game, haha. 🔎It is our Friday night tradition! What are you doing this weekend? Let me know by responding to this email! Take care, and keep in touch!

Love,

Gaelynn Lea