The Supreme Bolero: Goodbye, Michelle

There are those of us who believe figure skating is a perfect form of dance, and that Michelle Kwan represents the art at its peak of glory. We have watched her from her entry into the sport at twelve years old and have hoped to see her win the Gold at the 2006 Olympics in Torino, Italy, at age twenty-five. We grieve at her withdrawal from competition because of injury.

We have enjoyed thirteen years of her performances, and it is supposed each of us has a favorite. Which one is yours? Difficult to choose just one, and, having chosen one, have second thoughts and third thoughts - there are so many wonderful moments.

Mine is one appropriate to Valentine's Day - the long program danced to Ravel's Bolero. Her performance expressed the passion that accompanies love, an almost unbearable joy and radiance.

Thank you, Michelle. Your art lives forever in memory.

Found: A Love Song For February

Two lovers had diverse backgrounds. The man was born in Chatfield, Minnesota, the woman in Zurich, Switzerland. They met and married in Chicago, Illinois. That is all the background you will need in order to understand the following jewel of a poem written by Susan Marr Spalding. It is the first verse of two and speaks of love and fate.

Fate

Two shall be born the whole wide world apart;
And speak in different tongues, and have no thought
Each of the other's being, and no heed;
And these o'er unknown seas to unknown lands
Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death,
And all unconsciously shape every act
And bend each wandering step to this one end,--
That, one day, out of darkness, they shall meet
And read life's meaning in each other's eyes.

February 1: No Valentine?

It was supposed to be easy to find a few poems, written and filed though the years, celebrating love. Most writers have bulging files of material stored away. A time-consuming rereading and search proved the first line of one attempt to be true: "Great quantities of trivia are written..." Bring on the shredder! Let the greeting card companies say it best.

Of many failed poems in the folders, one small poem written after an exhilarating experience still speaks of what it is like to fall in love.

Marguerite Louise wrote

When we walk we float
over curbs, skirt open manholes,
teeter on brinks, oblivious:
nothing exists but us.

Through some phenomenon of mind
other people fade, become transparent,
disappear.

And yet I see you clearly
and I know that you see me.