Suspending My Deconstruction for the Season

Good Evening -

We went last night to see Colorado Ballet's performance of the Nutcracker - something that is fast becoming a holiday tradition for us.

The first year we were together, we went back to PA in December to sort through my partner's mom's stuff (she had passed in August). During our trip, my partner surprised me with tickets to the Nutcracker at the Philadelphia Academy of Music. Oh, it was romantic and beautiful and a wonderful evening to balance some of the sadness of the trip.

Last year, our second Christmas together, my partner got us tickets to see the Nutcracker at the Tucson Music Hall. Again, magic and romance abounding.

And, now, this year, it was Colorado Ballet performing it at the Ellie Caulkins Opera House. Pure joy and so much love for this woman.

And what got my fantastic partner started on this annual Nutcracker stint? She's a great listener.

She listened when I told her stories about how my family went every Christmas for years while my younger sister danced in Colorado Ballet's Nutcracker, first as a pixie and then as a mouse (her knees said "basta" before she could get on point and move past those roles).

This was always a big event for my low-income, chaotic family and, while I'm sure if I think hard, I can remember drama leading up to and drama immediately following our attendance at one of my sister's performances, what I remember clearest is that in between there was love and pride.

I don't think we attended any more after she stopped ballet. Quick math in my head has the three oldest of us in high school by that point - or maybe even college for the oldest, and the holiday season changed, as they do.

Seeing this ballet became so much a sign of holiday joy for me, but I never got back to another performance until my partner initiated this most fantastic tradition for us. (Well, I did attend one my first December in Sierra Vista, AZ, but the only place in town that had a stage was the high school auditorium, so that's where the traveling dancers performed the ballet. Needless to say, there was no orchestra, so they danced to piped in music. I don't really count this one...and am forever clear that I always need to live in a place that values the arts enough to have public performance spaces.).

This year was extra magical because it was cold and snowy, so I got to wear black velvet and tights and feel the chill on my rosy cheeks. We spent most of the time before the show and during intermission sitting on a bench in the foyer watching little ones prance around in their holiday best.

Little ones in tights, patten leather shoes, and bright flouncy dresses or mini tuxes always make my heart giggle. I love how they flip between being very serious and careful in their special outfit and going crazy and throwing the tulle over their heads while dancing in circles. Adorable. Some days I think that I absolutely must get me one of those someday.

The actual story of the ballet is the reference for this blog title. I love the dancing and the music and the performance, so have to suspend my deconstructionist ways and most of my sense of the world to ignore the plot and enjoy the dancing. It's the standard dashing military hero prince and just pubescent young woman who is in peril until the prince comes plot line and not any sort of belief system to which I subscribe.

If I watched the performance with my usual lenses, I would throw the dancers off with my loud, derisive snorting. What's wrong with her? And then the prince did what? Really? Come on.

But I check my feminist at the door, leave her to deconstruct the other attendees outside, and focus on the parts of the show I love. The dancing is superb. The costumes are gorgeous. I want a stiff, sparkly tutu, a fancy tiara, and someone who catches me when I jump and carries me on and off stage. Who doesn't, really?

I love the international dancers in the second act. The skill and grace takes my breath every year. I love Mother Ginger (this year I know a gay man was behind her look and act because she wore a big, sparkly costume ring on one hand and was doing saucy dance moves while her little charges showed their dance skill on the stage in front of her). I love the fake snow and the layered sets. I love how dancers pop out of gift boxes. I love the music.

And I love my partner for listening to my stories and acting on them in a way that is beautiful. She's a dream she is.

And she's getting ready to dream - and so shall I. To bed, to bed.

Here's to dreams of sugarplums and tutus and tulle and sparkly sets. Here's to the maiden and the hero (or maiden and heroine, or lad and hero, or whatever) working together to peacefully end whatever conflict they are experiencing with the rats, such that no rodents are killed in the production. Here's to partners who listen and here's to holiday traditions.