I started taking ballet lessons. I lived in downtown Manhattan and I took my lessons on the upper East side of Manhattan. I got into the number 6 train on Canal Street and got out into a completely different world on 77 th Street. I walked the few blocks to 79th and 3rd and went into my classes and ate pizza on 76th and 3rd with my friend Luisa after class and before descending the stairs.
In our two family house, music lessons were the thing. My cousin, Arnie, who lived above us, learned to play the trumpet. My brother, Lenny, was the accordian maven. And I, with my chubby little hands, took piano lessons. I actually liked it very much. At 48, I can still read music and play. And I still have those chubby little hands.
Ballet lessons …. Every Saturday morning, my mother would take me to the “ballet studio” where we’d darn our little pink ballet outfits, and try our best to dance to the drone of the ballet teachers voice … “and one, and two, and pirouet”…I never could stand on my toes … After the lesson was over, a group of us would go to the nearest White Castle … ; )