First RW was playing this little waltz, “the Lost Waltz” MG with 8 skirts on and the bathing suit top did a dance back & forth in the living room—run, run, run, then at the B part, beckoning me over so she could do a handstand and a flip.
After she did this dance a couple of times, she bowed, we clapped, then she ran over to the attic steps, held an imaginary microphone up to her mouth, and said, “Okay, now we’ll answer some questions.”
So we raised our hands. But she wouldn’t call on us; she called on some imaginary kids in the back, and then repeated their questions: “How did we make our costumes? Well, we took some skirts, and we sewed them together, and for the bunny ears we just got some ears and we sewed silk and fur on them. It took us a long time to make all the costumes and practice.”
Then she called on me: “You, in the blue dress.” I asked how she’d decided what parts of the dance went with what music. She called to the pianist (RW) to play part of it again, and then ran back and forth for a while, explaining how the running went with one part of the music and the jumping went with another part, and how it was little birds running and flapping: “The girls run, and the boys lift them.” Then she broke character and said to us, as an aside, “You know that there are boys and girls in this performance.”
RW asked something without raising her hand, and MG gave her a withering look and asked pointedly, “Did I call on you?” And ignored RW’s raised hand for a long time, calling on invisible children behind her instead.
I asked if she’d been taking dance classes for a long time, and she said, “Since I was one. And then when I was two, and three, and four, and up to today. Today’s my birthday and I’m eighteen.”
I asked if everyone in the dance group made up their own parts or if someone told them what to do. “We all decided together,” she said. “So it would be fair.”
Finally she consented to call on RW again, who asked if the group only danced ballet. “We do all kinds of dances and things,” she explained, “Not just ballet. We do circus, and gymnastics, and jazz dance, and tap, and Spanish dance, and French dance, and Vancouver dance. All different kinds. We’re called the Lonelys.”
An imaginary kid asked, “How’d you get your name?”
MG, glad they asked, answered “We thought, like, what would be a good name for a dance group? Maybe the Beatles? But then we thought, no, beetles are just a little bug, ugh. And besides, there’s already a singing group called the Beatles! So then we thought, maybe the Barenaked Ladies. But there’s a band called that, too. So then we thought, hey, how about the Lonelys! Yeah, that’s a good name! The Lonelys!”
We said, “Wow, we’ll have to come see you perform again!”
“Oh, we’re not going to be back for a long time. We’re going to Vancouver now. And then we’ll be in…what’s that place near Vancouver? [Victoria?] Yeah, we’ll be in Victoria after that. And then we’re going to…what’s that place near Victoria? [Nanaimo?] Oh, yeah! Nanaimo! And, what’s that place near Nanaimo? “ [Campbell River? RW suggested. MG looked at her dubiously.]
“Molson?” I asked. “Yeah, Molson,” looking vaguely relieved, perhaps to be getting off Vancouver Island at last. “We’re going all the way around the world. And then we’ll come back here.”
Then it was getting close to bedtime, so we suggested that she close the Q&A. She said if anyone else had questions, they could come talk to her up front afterwards.