I accumulated lots of minutes on my little used cell phone so I called my old ballet buddy, Inese, in New York and we talked for an hour. She told me about getting together with another woman from class, Maroula, with whom she has been exchanging Christmas cards for years. She has aged badly, Inese reports, but, worse, she doesn’t remember me. On the other hand, she doesn’t remember our teacher, George, either! So I think Maroula may have that dread illness. I can understand that she would forget me (although I found her memorable but then I have a memory like a steel trap) but that she doesn’t remember George is troublesome.

When I was first studying ballet, Inese and I used to take a class with a friend of hers from Latvia, Beatrice. Beatrice was European trained, had danced professionally, was charming (and manipulative but ne’ mind all that) and used to give a pointe class. She called us her “little svans”.

Beatrice lives in Vermont with her husband, a man much younger. She’s got to be close to 90 now. Glen left her for a while and dallied with this or that dancer and eventually went back. Inese E mailed me today with Beatrice’s address and I will write her. I may sign myself “Your little svan.”

xx, Teal