Guest Column: Millions of Maris

Published 12:30 am Saturday, August 8, 2020

Dear Mari,

Watching your dance recital on Zoom the other night, I saw your joy as you performed the dances you’d been practicing for months.

You couldn’t hear the applause of the other grandparents scattered around the country, and my impression is that you really didn’t need to. The joy was coming from within you, along with the satisfaction of accomplishing something meaningful to yourself. You made standing on your toes while dancing in place look easy. As if.

I remember when you started ballet lessons 10 years ago. You loved being with the other students, wearing a leotard and ballet shoes and being in the mirrored dance studio.

You worked hard to learn the five basic ballet positions for the feet and then the eight positions for the body. And each year, it got easier and harder at the same time.

You mastered steps and positions that had been really difficult. Then it was on to the next level, with sequined costumes, partnering with other dancers and choreography to match the mood and tempo of the music.

You’ve shown me how much you want to learn ballet. You practice even when it isn’t fun, when you’re tired, when you can’t figure out the steps. You go to lessons, now virtual, even when you’d rather play Minecraft with your brothers. You take the hours needed to prep a new pair of pointe shoes — what my generation called toe shoes. You know that if you don’t do it right, you can’t dance correctly, and even worse, you could injure yourself.

I’m thrilled you’ve already learned firsthand what many people discover only when they are much older: that the best, most important things in life offer choices and responsibility, with possibilities for joy and achievement. Because you care so much about dance, you’re eager to give it energy and attention so you can be your best and do your best — and make the dancing look easy.

It seems to me that ballet is like democracy. A dancer must master those essential basic positions for feet and the rest of the body. They are the foundation for doing everything else in ballet. If you can’t do those basic positions, you can’t do ballet.

Like ballet, democracy is stunningly magnificent when it goes well — when people make the choices and do the work that keep it thriving.

The first essential step is to be a voter. Every election, no exceptions.

Voting inspires more skills — like telling elected representatives what you want, staying informed about the news, supporting issues and candidates you care about, writing letters to the editor, protesting, volunteering and even running for office.

Voting means you claim your stake in the outcome and you want your opinion heard. Voting means you know that your voice and your choice matter.

Dancers work with people they might not like but who share their passion for dance. They create a corps de ballet — dancers working together to create something beautiful, something that a dancer can’t do alone.

That’s the surprise of democracy, too. Millions of voters determine the character of a town or state or country. Sometimes the result is beautiful.

Many of us thought democracy maintained itself. We were perilously wrong. We’ve learned that it’s fragile and breakable, that it’s easy to do it badly and that people get hurt when we are careless with it. In fact, democracy needs a whole lot of care from a whole lot of Americans to make it achieve what it’s capable of doing.

We’ve seen what happens in America and other countries when people aren’t allowed to speak freely, gather to protest, criticize the government, or vote.

We’ve grown complacent and allowed some elected leaders to skip the basics in our mistaken belief that democracy is inevitable and indestructible. Democracy lives only when most citizens commit to its survival.

If we want to have a democracy, we have to keep doing all the things required to keep it, starting with being an informed voter.

When we were together last year, you coached me as we practiced the five basic positions for the feet. I was rusty and not particularly graceful, but was thrilled that I remembered those positions from my childhood lessons.

It’s that way with democracy, too. I love that I get to keep doing democracy, regardless of age or agility. I can still vote. I can still make my voice heard.

In just four years, you’ll be old enough to be a voter. I’m glad you already pay attention to the news and follow issues that matter to you. I’m glad you think about what kind of community and country you want to live in. I look forward to watching you do democracy.

You were one dancer on the stage. Imagine millions of Maris giving American democracy the same energy and enthusiasm you gave to your dance recital.

Imagine every American voting. Imagine every American eagerly working to make democracy thrive. Oh my, what a magnificent sight that will be!

Love always,

Grandma Laurie