I don’t remember how old I was when I first saw him but I remember where I was standing (in front of our television in our home in North Carolina). He glided across the stage in black pants, sequined socks and tennis shoes. His movements were so precise and elegant in my mind that I remember thinking it was unhuman. Then he took several walks backward (the “moonwalk”, I learned it was called) and flipped up onto those tennis shoes en pointe. That image has stayed with me since the first time I saw it and was detrimental is my wonder and amazement in the art of dance.
