Days of future past

December is full of wonderful anniversaries my life:
My parents' wedding, 70 years ago; my brother Sid and wife Roz, first date 45 years; my first ballet class, 28 years; Stinky and I, first date 22 years, Sarah's daughter, my grandniece, born 10 years; going back for my Early Childhood Ed degree, 8 years. How old do I feel?
What better way to celebrate than go back to my former school to see a performance presented by the theatre company of my former dance studio?
Aviso, this part may be boring to the general public:
"Holiday delights" was 3 pieces; Gospel suite ( modern, great music, good Becah and Emilie, who have really improved) Clara's dream ( "Candy" variations from Nutcracker- viva Brenda and Mandy, and candycanes, Laura was Sugar Plum, has not outgrown flaws) and Fantastic toys (which really was, and very funny, thanks to Marla and Lucie) I saw Leah , who I can't believe is an adult, with her 2 year old and 4 month old, Gladys, who has aged and Bert who oddly, has not, Joey, who was a fab King in "toys", talented tiny Mila, who I saw and who is with a company, Brenda, my former flamenco teacher does most of the choreography now, and it's very clever, but where are the big jumps? There is no adult class, I guess all the kids who worked up have moved on, and it's always been hard to find adults who want to work that hard just for fun. The end of another era!

There was much screaming and hugging backstage. Damn, I forgot how bony they are! I'm seeing Marla next week for lunch and I will give her Mom's mink stole and Aunt Anna's racoon jacket for use in future ballets. A fitting use for them, I think.
It was wonderful to be out and see a performance ( One of the most exciting experiences in life is that moment when the lights go down in a live theatre) and seeing everyone was wonderful, but was bittersweet too. And, I repeat unnecessarily, I feel soooo old. Alte, vieja, ahjuz .(arabic)
There's another, unhappy anniversary. Tomorrow will be 22 years, the day after my 1st date with Steve, that Rudy shot himself. He died on the 24th.
He was half of a mismatched twinset who were both my best friends at one time or another from the time I was six. His mother named them Gertrude and Rudolph, but for some reason she aways called Rudy Butchie. Built like a twig, you never saw less of a Butchie in your life. I lost touch with Trudi, who had lost touch with the world, but Rudy was like a brother to me, and all of our crowd.
He taught me about electricity, Star Trek, and how to play guitar, he built a computer from a Radio Shack Kit 30 years ago. He was an extraordinary person and had not a mean bone in his body, evil maybe, but not mean. In all these 22 years our crowd has shrunk and dispersed across the country but I know all of us will be thinking about our sweet, smart, talented, crazed Rudy.
Happy Birthday and Anniversary to you! If you got 'em, celebrate 'em!