Autumn in LA? Doesn't exist. | Memories of School Beginnings

It really is strange... I feel like it's autumn inside; I'm cozy and comfortable and feeling "ready for something," like I'm about to start a new school year, or home from a weekend at college and my mom has fresh bread and homemade soup on the stove.

But it's not any different outside. Still that southern California sunshine, warmth brushed with a gentle, constant sea breeze. And I'm very much far away from that place I used to call "home."

Perhaps it's because I still have some internal clock that has kicked in. I mean, I did spend 18 years of my life starting a new school year at this time of year. And you know, I always --always-- was excited for a new school year to begin.

Perhaps the most significant years of excitement for a new school year were when I entered high school as a 10th grader (sophomore), my first year of college and my last semester of college. Those were great changes in my life and I prepared for them a great deal.

~~~PART I. HIGH SCHOOL~~~

I spent the summer before my sophomore year of high school reading -- a ton -- and listening to musicals, particularly Fiddler on the Roof. I would stick the warbled tape movie soundtrack in a little scratched-up boom box in my bathroom and sing along with "Miracle of Miracles" and "Sunrise, Sunset" when I was in the shower. Super geeky, I know... But for some reason, I was really drawn to that musical. Imagine my joy when I found out from my neighbor that the fall musical at the high school was going to be Fiddler on the Roof. I was already prepared!

I began high school with an enthusiasm and confidence you couldn't buy. I will never forget singing at callbacks in the choir room. We were called up singly and in groups to sing "Matchmaker," but we also had copies of "Far From the Home I Love," the solo that Hodel sings (my favorite). When Mr. Jolley, the drama dept. director, said we were moving on, I was sitting on the front row and filled with nervous energy I said aloud, "Ohhh, we don't get to sing 'Far From The Home I Love'?" He smiled and uttered quietly, "Oh, you'll have plenty of opportunities to sing it, Anna."

At that point, I knew I was in! I also was tickled that he also knew who I was even though I had barely been in classes a few days! Sure enough, I was cast in the role of Hodel that year, and continued to eat up my drama classes like they were manna to a starving soul.

It's too bad that I let some cheap criticism discourage me and snuff out that flame of confidence and excitement for performing. I drifted from theater for years after high school, only to find it an unquenchable hunger to which I continually return to feed.

("Far From the Home I Love" 1995)

~~~PART II. FRESHMAN IN COLLEGE~~~

Because I was hired on the school newspaper prior to beginning my first year of college at Southern Utah University, I was able to move into my dorm 2 weeks before anyone else showed up and go to newspaper workshops every day. I filled my quiet alone time with lots of pondering, lots of classical and Celtic music, and I often gazed out the window of my 3rd story bedroom mesmerized by the trembling leaves on the aspen tree outside. I felt peace, contentment and strength.

A few weeks later after school started, I heard about Ballroom Dance Company auditions and decided to attend. Hundreds of students packed into the multi-purpose room of the student center. I recall watching attractive girls with well-defined calf muscles and blonde-highlighted hair (pulled tight into low buns, of course) strapping on their well-worn bronzed Latin heels. I had black character shoes. After about 30 minutes into the routine instructions, I realized how unprepared I was for it all and how I was just making a fool out of myself. I decided to leave. I lingered for a few minutes watching the young men sweep those beautiful girls across the floor, and assured myself I was going to learn this stuff and audition the next year. Which I did.

And the next year I made it. The Ballroom Dance Company provided some of my dearest memories of college...

~~~PART III. SUPER-SENIOR IN COLLEGE~~~

My last semester of college marked a considerable change in my life, from which I would never return. I had spent the summer in the same town attending summer school so moving into my last semester almost seemed anti-climatic... at first. I had spent semester after semester taking dance class after dance class since that first botched Ballroom Dance Company audition and found myself with a full schedule of the highest level of dance classes offered at Southern Utah University -- American Character Ballet, Modern 6, Tap 5, Jazz 5, etc. I had even been selected to perform in several pieces in the premier Dance Ensemble concert scheduled for the spring.

At auditions for the smaller student dance concert a few weeks into the fall semester, something felt terribly wrong. The piece I had choreographed fell flat, I was distracted through the whole day, and I performed terribly. Something was seriously off.

That summer I had been dating a young man, and at this point we were exclusive. He was 250 miles away, although very supportive of all my endeavors. I called him after those auditions, and he encouraged me to go to the temple that evening. Through that temple visit, a very powerful set of Church meetings the next day and a CES Fireside by (then) Elder Thomas S. Monson, I knew what I needed to do.

Similar to the counsel Elder Monson's priesthood leader gave him when he wasn't given a deserved promotion in the armed services but instead a calling as Stake President, the Spirit whispered to me, "You were never meant to dance like this. You are meant for different things..."

It was an extremely difficult decision to make, but I decided to end my studies at SUU that semester (already dozens of credits over graduation requirements), move to Salt Lake City and marry BMW Boy.

(Taken on BMW Boy's Birthday, also the same night as my last college dance concert 12/5/03)

~~~PART IV. BEGINNING YEAR 2 IN L.A.~~~

And I haven't ever danced like that since then. I did not go on to teach or be a professional performer as some of my colleagues did. After spending 6-8 hours in technique classes and rehearsals every day for years, plus years of private voice lessons and more than a decade-worth of stage productions, I find myself squeezing out a little creativity at a computer every day for 8-10 hours, singing in the car on my commute and imagining I'm blowing the socks off a production panel at an audition, and bouncing on my living room couch as I devour another episode of So You Think You Can Dance.

Ironic, isn't it.

No, this isn't a complaint, but merely nostalgia. And an expression of longing for something to begin again. It is "autumn" after all.