Dance, India, Music, New Hampshire, Real People »
My mother dances
April 4, 2012 | 12 Comments | Betsy Woodman
My mother, Ruth Woodman, had studied ballet in New York City before marrying my dad, Everett Woodman. By the time they reached Madras (now Chennai), India, she had two little girls and was about to give birth to a third, and the dance career had been put aside.
But, as luck would have it, our family happened to move in next door to a family of dancers. The three daughters—Padmini, Lalitha, and Ragini—were known as the Travancore Sisters and were also wildly popular as film actors.
The sisters took my mom under their wing and allowed her to study the classical Indian style of Bharatnatyam with their guru. She even performed once with them, the local newspapers expressing some astonishment that an American—and mother of three—could do so well on the dance stage.
Photo credit: Woodman family collection
Later, in New Delhi, she founded a ballet school, and gave performances to support various charitable causes.
Five decades and two hip replacements later, my mom, along with my dad, was in assisted living at Woodcrest Village, in New London, New Hampshire. When the time came for the facility’s annual variety show, the activities director, Donna Baker, suggested that my mom, then eighty-five years old, do a dance. I found some ballet music my mom had once liked, and Donna helped her rehearse.
My dad was not at all convinced that this performance was a good idea, and when I arrived that evening and found my mom close to tears, I wasn’t very sure myself. Her memory had been failing, and she had little recollection of what she had practiced. “Why am I wearing this costume?” she asked. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You’ll be fine,” Donna said. She led my mom, who was now trembling with fear, out onto the dance floor. My dad and I exchanged appalled glances. Would she fall? Would she break down altogether?
Within the first few bars of music, however, the most amazing thing happened. My mother was utterly transformed. She seemed to grow a couple of inches. She took a deep breath and did a gracious bow, looked out and engaged the audience with eye contact. Then, maintaining elegant ballet carriage, she improvised an exquisite little dance.
Photo credit: Betsy Woodman
Afterwards, she came and sat down with us, anxious and shaky. “Was that all right?” she asked.
Now my dad and I were the ones who were in tears–of pride.
Photo credit: Betsy Woodman
View All Events
What a great story, Betsy! Thank you for sharing it with us. I’m also sending a link to Bruce! 😉
Betsy, this is such a lovely memory of your mother — a tribute to who she was apart from mother/wife. Thanks for sharing this.
How wonderful that you are writing of these memories. So much is forgotten if not written. I don’t think I knew your mother was a dancer.
Oh, Betsy, your story made my mascara run!!! What a gift to all of us who knew and really loved your Mom, to see and read about this.
Betsy, I so regret never having seen your Mom dance. My parents saw her perform Indian dances and loved them. It truly speaks of the transforming power of dance and music that your Mom rose to the occasion when she performed at Woodcrest.
Stories are so important and this is such a lovely one. I remember both your parents with fondness. Thank you for sharing.
Betsy, I, too, was very moved with this story! Sorry that I didn’t know your mom. Music is indeed transformative; my dad, who’d suffered with Alzheimer’s the last few years of his life, had been a violinist in his younger years, both as a boy at Woodstock School and throughout his adult life. Also, he and Mom always loved ballroom dancing. The last time I saw Dad was over Christmas break 1998; our family had rented a common room in his residence which was decorated beautifully. When my sister put on some recorded dance music, lo and behold, Dad began dancing with me, and–HE was leading and in control! What a precious and joyful memory. Since then I’ve learned about the research that the parts of the brain which connect to music stay intact, even when other parts have been ravaged. So, how wonderful for your mother’s story, AND that you even have that great photo! love and blessings, marilee :o)
Beautiful, poignant story about Aunt Ruthie. Amazing how she maintained her poise until the end 🙂
Betsy, I have just found your little stories. They are beautiful, such sweet tidbits at just the right length and so nicely documented with pictures. I’ll be back.
Such a wonderful story! And your mom looks amazing in the pic with the dancing attire. Must have been a very gracious dancer.
Thanks for your nice comments, Sapna.
the local newspapers expressing some astonishment that an American—and mother of three—could do so well on the dance stage.
Was this in The Hindu? High praise indeed!