I was born eight days late – the daughter of a dance teacher, minus functioning hip-sockets.  Not exactly a natural talent. More a pillow-splint and corrective shoes sort of gal, who tripped over her own feet when running.  With hard-work and a decade of dance training (cue Rocky  soundtrack), I revealed myself to be .… still not great.  But I loved dance! All of it -  the music, the challenge, the stage, and a creative world where a pigeon-toed, legally blind kid (yep, I h

The first time I heard this song, I was ten years old, crouched at the top of our staircase, watching the Johnny Carson Show . It was way past my bedtime but I was (and still am) an insomniac. Falling asleep was never my strong suit, but eavesdropping on late-night television? Natural talent. The song is from the 1975 musical "A Chorus Line." In the scene, a dancer suffers a career-ending injury, and the remaining dancers are asked: What would you do if you were told

Legally blind, dodgeballs smashed into my face before I ever saw them coming. Pigeon-toed, I tripped over my own feet and wore corrective shoes until I was twelve. I was… not cool. But in the dance studio, my blind, tiny, bendy frame became an asset. I could repeat a movement until I looked almost coordinated. It worked. And then—puberty. An uninvited guest who showed up with bras, pads, tampons, hips, and a chest that jiggled when I moved (rude). My tights indent revealed a

I remember how proud I felt the day my young swimmer advanced from Scallop to Guppie . As I watched her strong, self-assured doggy paddle, I imagined Olympic gold. Possibly a parade. The next few months were intoxicating. She rocketed through the preschool ranks—Cuttlefish, Mackerel—and eventually reached the pinnacle of aquatic achievement: Lumpsucker . We were living the dream! And then… things stalled. Grade school arrived, and suddenly there were no more adorable titl