When I was a wee lass, he lived on Sesame Street. He would dance and the Muppets would bob their heads and I'd be amazed because his feet were so fast. He was the epitome of cool, with his baggy jackets/shirts and his backwards hat and tube socks. Not to mention, he's African American, which is generally a lot cooler than being white. I would know. He was also good at reading.
So when I saw this poster on campus a few weeks ago:
I knew splurging on a ticket was not an option, as in I had to get one or else my life would forever be incomplete.
I'm no dancer, even though I took classes on and off when I was a kid. I had never actually been to a dance show like Bare Soundz, except for that one time when my dad took me to Riverdance,* so I wasn't sure what to expect. Let's just say it blew my mind. People who are really good at what they do have a truly magical captivating power, and Mr. Glover is the best at what he does. Since I don't know a whole lot about tap, I'm not going to try and analyze the performance, but something that stood out to me in the program is that Mr. Glover emphasizes tap as a music, or a kind of percussion. He wants his audiences to listen. So that's what I did, and it was amazing.
Then it ended, after 90 awe-inspiring minutes. When I exited the theater, I noticed a lot of people queueing up in velvet-rope lanes leading to a table with Sharpies and waterbottles atop. There was going to be a meet and greet, people. I was not about to pass that up. Although it took 40 minutes for Mr. Glover and his Hooferz to emerge (showered, bless their hearts) and another 20 for me to get to the front of the line, I would've paid $30 over again for the opportunity to shake his hand. Which I did.
When I got to him, I said: "I have to tell you, you were one of my favorite parts of Sesame Street. Which is why I came tonight." And he hung his head and laughed! And said, "It's a pleasure." And he was still holding my hand. I know he does this a million times every week, but I couldn't help but hope that at that moment he remembered doing the things that I avidly watched him do in my pj's on the couch fifteen years ago, surrounded by Muppets, and in that one moment we had the same memory.
Everyone starts somewhere. And everyone goes somewhere everyday, and everyone will end up at the end someday, and we'll look back on where we started, and those places we went, and we'll smile to think of how small the world is. I guess I'm just trying to say that meeting Savion Glover was more than I thought it would be, and I'm never going to forget it.
*If meeting Mr. Glover was one of the top 5 most magical moments of my life thus far, going to Riverdance is also on that list. Being a Riverdancer was all I dreamed about when I was Sesame Street aged, and that night in the Kodak Theater is another one I'll never forget. Is it obvious that PBS was the only channel I watched from ages 0-12?
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