A e-mail to National Review's Jay Nordlinger shares an amusing cultural observation from an 4-year old boy:Dear Jay,
You talk about The Nutcracker in your column today. Well, I recorded the Bolshoi Ballet’s version this year to watch with my kids. My eleven-year-old daughter has always loved it, and I was excited for my four-year-old son to share in the fun. After a few minutes, he was already fidgeting. Sensing that I was losing the battle, I told him of the fight between the Nutcracker and the Rat King and fast-forwarded to the scene. He watched for about a minute, turned to me, and said, “That’s not fighting, that’s dancing,” and walked out. I guess I don’t have a future Baryshnikov.
That reminded me of my first visit to ballet -- and I wasn't 4 but well into my 40s. I was in Minsk and was invited by friends there to go see a performance of the Belorussian Bolshoi. I wanted to get out of it in the worst way but my American friend (who I was teaching with at a Bible college there, Ruben Dyck, then 82) said yes for the both of us.
I ended up liking it very much and have since attended several ballet performances when in Minsk.
But here in the States, I've never got round to seeing a ballet. I wonder why.
Perhaps I need the more exotic atmosphere of a cold Belarussian night. Perhaps I need the presence of kind-hearted friends enjoying a luxurious evening in a grand old theater with an outstanding orchestra. Perhaps I love the experience of treating my students to what is often an experience of a lifetime as we dress up and go out together.
And just possibly the regular surroundings of home break the spell, making me realize that, just like this perceptive 4-year old boy, I understand that ballet is "just dancing."
