Just a reminder ~ Tune in to "America's Got Talent" tonight at 9 p.m. EST. And please vote for my cherubs ~ The West Springfield Dance Team ~ as they compete in "AGT's" semifinals.
To coin a time-worn cliche, every vote counts. Vote early ~ and often ~ at nbc.com.
For years they were the girls in the spandex and sequins who shook their collective booty during halftime at high school football and basketball games. Four years ago, they became something else.
Now they're winners, multiplied by one million dollars.
The West Springfield Dance Team, 16 kids representing my high school in suburban DC, made it out of the Wild Card Round on "America's Got Talent" Wednesday night. They're going to the semifinals next week, with a chance at one million bucks and a spot as Las Vegas headliners, because, I reckon, they won America's hearts.
Kudos go to these spunky gals and guys, who are willing to work four hours every afternoon after school to perfect their craft. And props, as well, to the coaches/choreographers, Tara Perez and Jason King, who have transformed this troupe from a gaggle of dancer-wannabes into a seriously scary ensemble.
Three team members were in my classes this year. They do "The Matrix," with full trenchcoat regalia, to a "T." That routine won them the NDA National Championship two years in a row. Although "AGT" judge Sharon Osbourne dubs them winners for their "drama," their style is basically from the hip-hop end of the dance spectrum. These kids work hard to be out there, pushing the envelope, and they were rewarded Wednesday for their efforts.
The snap above, shot during a basketball halftime performance, shows just part of the team, but points up both their drama and their skill. I'm amazed, and proud, all at once. All hail to the West Springfield Dance Team.
I have only one question: If "America's Got Talent" coincides with the start of school, just where will you be, kiddos?
I spent four days in New York City last week. And I consumed all 96 hours or so marveling at how native New Yorkers get through every single day in their hometown.
Except for a 2-month stint as an intern between my junior and senior years of college, I've always been a tourist in New York. Since we live in DC, it's easy to hop a train or even get Big Blue out on the Jersey Turnpike for a quick trip to the Big Apple.
Typically, my chicas and I will visit for a long weekend. We take in a couple of Broadway shows, eat some outstanding food (Paris, you can have your patisseries; Rome, you can have your trattorias ~ New York's cuisine is an around-the-world smorgasbord) and then scoot on back to our Nation's Capital.
Last week, I hoofed it up the Turnpike to pick up Ella Numera Dos from her own two-month NYC summer internship. And I had a few flashbacks from so many years ago.
In New York, when it rains, it pours. Literally. I arrived in a rainstorm, which quickly turned into a driving monsoon. I was determined to see the sights despite the weather, so I headed out to a local pizzeria. Note to self: A hotel blowdryer does not do much toward getting a sopping wet denim jacket into tip-top shape. And Nikes take a good two full days to return to normal after a summer storm in the city. One week later, they continue to stink from their water-logged excursion.
Another fact to consider when visiting in the summertime: Even though the Big Apple technically is located in the Northeast, it's pretty much a steambath in the summer months. The combination of crowds, traffic and general all-around city funk doesn't help. And the subway stations aren't air-conditioned. Don't think AC had been invented at the turn of the last century, when many of the stops on the 1, 2 and 3 Lines were installed.
New York teems. No news there. Times Square is not the place one wants to be in mid-afternoon, even on a weekday. We gamely waded into the throng, walking upstream along Broadway between 41st and 49th. Even though we were technically walking north, we were forced every 10 feet or so to navigate east, then stagger west, and a couple of times zig-zag south, in order to make it to our destination on time.
But New York is also the real deal. From the Verizon employees voicing their discontent while walking a raucous picket line, to the father and his two young girls literally dancing in the street to tunes blasting from a boombox in a corner newsstand, New Yorkers live with a demonstrative sense of self. The miasma associated with co-existing cheek to jowl with about 8 million other folks gives the natives a brash sense of entitlement and an edgy enthusiasm that's contagious.
The reviews are still out on Ella Numera Dos' tenure in NYC. The snap above, though, which she shot from the Brooklyn Promenade at sunset on July 4, illustrates what makes the city tick. Yes, New York's skyline is synonymous with big dreams. But the shadows of the waterfront piers on the murky East River show a city that also works hard at being special.
I was out of town. Mr. Fairway was home alone, with one teenager to mind. That meant he had to do the shopping, too.
Keep in mind that this is the man who perpetually screws up the grocery shopping so that I won't ever ask him to go again.
The conversation went something like this:
Him: "What's for dinner?"
Me: "How would I know? I'm not there."
Him: "Well, should we cook?"
Me: "Do you have anything to cook? Do you even know how to cook?"
Him: "Any suggestions?"
Me: "Ask Ella Numera Dos. She'll tell you what she wants."
The next day, I called for an update. The Youngest answered the phone.
Me: "How's it going?"
Her: "OK. Except Daddy doesn't know how to shop."
Me: "I told him to ask you want you like to eat."
Her: "He did."
Me: "So, what did you tell him?"
Her: "Meat and berries."
Me: "So, what did he buy?"
Her: "Pork chops, steak, hamburger meat, strawberries, blueberries and raspberries."
Me: "Did he try to cook anything?"
Her: "No. We ate the berries for breakfast and then went out for lunch and dinner."
Photo by Monichrome. You can find a recipe that resembles this snap here.
When she was 2
she said,
"Do it myself."
When she was 5,
she exhibited
independence
(and an advanced vocabulary).
"Actually, I want..."
When she was 8,
she screamed
'til we paid attention.
But she was always
the little girl
in preschool
who could put
together
puzzles the fastest.
She wanted to
know
how the computer
worked
(I thought she was
going to be
an engineer).
She pushed the others
aside
on the basketball court,
even though she was the
smallest
out there.
And she always
knew
where she was
headed.
Now she's spread
her wings,
but hasn't yet flown.
She's changed
her course,
but kept
her options open.
She's definite
without
being definitive.
Have fun today
little one.
Your braces are gone,
you're all grown up.
But you'll always be
my little girl
with
the Burberry bag.
