Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Foreword by: Gary Larsen

Author’s Note

1. Self Discovery…………………………. 1

2. Beginnings…………………………….. 12

3. Lead and Follow……………………… 33

The Lead…………………………………………..34
The Follow………………………………………..39
The Parallels of Dance and life Partnerships….42
Lead and Follow Within One’s Self…………....48

4. The Method of Movement…………… 51

5. The Many Faces of a Dancer………… 65

6. The Comprehensive Dance Class…… 79

7. The Dance Lessons of Life…………… 95

About the Author…………………………….... iii

 Foreword
By: Gary Larsen
Essayist Robert Fulghum, in his well known work Everything I Need to Know I Learned in
Kindergarten, addresses the topics of “how to live and what to do, and how to be.” “Wisdom,”
Fulghum states, is not gained “at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the
sandbox at nursery school.” In his clever and satirical way, Fulghum, envisions a world in
which we all play nicely with each other, clean up the messes we make and then settle down for
a nap after milk and cookies. In a similar fashion, R. K. Shanahan’s Lead and Follow: Life Lessons
through Dancing, seeks to explore and demonstrate the lessons one learns, apart from the
technical and artistic, while training their mind and body in the art of dance.
Throughout his training and education in dance Shanahan has come to know a great
deal about himself, the world around him and his place within it. Lead and Follow demonstrates
a clear understanding of these principles coupled with his desire to share those profound layers
of meaning with others. The additional voices of his fellow dancers, colleagues and legends in
the fields of art and dance, add a rich diversity to the insightful message. Significance will be
found in the stories and ideas among individuals of all ages and background, dancers and non-
dancers alike. Anyone who has worked hard to achieve success, or who has found themselves
at odds with the limits of gravity and injury, will take away great meaning from Shanahan’s
work. Lovers of art and beauty will find as much within its pages. Within these pages one can
see the process by which many have found a fulfilling passion for life and have added a far-
reaching and immeasurable value to their existence.
If you ask a dancer why they dance, you’ll get a wide variety of responses. Some love to
dance for the social aspect; others for the exercise. Some wish to gain the ability and strength to
become a professional; others simply dance as a hobby or a distraction from their daily
concerns. Each of those responses reflects innumerable motivations, intents and desired
outcomes. However, if you ask a dancer what they have learned from dancing you will begin
to see something much more thought-provoking. And the journey only begins here.

-Gary J. Larsen
 Chapter Five: The Many Faces of a Dancer
Years ago, as a new dance teacher and student, I spent a lot of time moving back and
forth between a few different places. I would often return home for several months when I
didn’t have classes. While home, I spent time with family and got reacquainted with friends and
student couples I had worked with, but hadn’t seen in a while. Then I would return to school or
a job where I would teach and be gone again for another six to eight months. Between moving
back and forth with these somewhat frequent transitions, I often had the opportunity to share in
the personal lives of my fellow dancers and the students I was teaching. Over time, I managed
to pick up quite a variety of their stories. Teachers of all fields often come face-to-face with the
personal lives of the students they work with. I find that I become very attached to those who
have shared a significant part of their lives with me. One thing that has always impressed me
about some of these individual’s has been the dedication and endurance that they maintain,
often through difficult circumstances, and sometimes for the sake of their art.
Stories of trial, sorrow, frustration, and then triumph have often been inspiring histories
of how endurance through difficulty leads people to better, happier states. The following
interviews are put together as a collection of stories shared by friends and students spanning
the bulk of the many genres of dance that I’ve become acquainted with. Some of their
experiences were recorded in personal interview, while others simply wrote down their
thoughts on paper and gave it to me without saying much else. They are biographies of dancers
who have been in difficult places, but through dance came to understand themselves a bit more.
We all come from different backgrounds, but my hope is that at least one of these stories will
have a significant connection to your life.
This first story comes from a close friend of mine who shares a story that is difficult for
her because of how personal and emotional her experience was. She relives the experience for
us, knowing how important it is to be shared because of how many other young women have
undergone similar experiences.
“I have now been dancing seriously for about nine months. It is a passion and major part of my
life. To me, dance means trust. It’s because of dance that I can trust men with my body again. When I
was fourteen, I was sexually harassed at a party. This scarred me for five years. I was so young, and
everything and everyone seemed good. I was trusting and didn’t know any better.
I was not ever afraid to be feisty, sexy, and myself. Then there was a guy. He was a much older
guy who was too interested. He made me feel vulnerable, weak, and like a body, not a mind. But these
warning signs, the looks and feelings of wrong, didn’t register with me.
His actions were forceful, and he was often hitting on other girls. But he made me feel beautiful. I
didn’t realize the years between the two of us.”

She came to know this older boy through a play they were in together. One night, after a
show, there was a party for the cast and crew.

“He was there and he would get angry if I talked with other guys, and didn’t like it if I didn’t
give him a full hug. He had me off to one side of the room where not everyone would be looking, and
started to kiss me and touch me. It felt just disgusting to me. I wanted to get out of there, and when I
finally got away I spent the rest of the night in the girl’s bathroom crying. He was hardly apologetic
when some of my friends approached him about it later, and shrugged off their warnings to stay away
from all their friends.
 [Later], when I first started dancing, it was difficult for me to trust the men who were touching
my body. For a while, there were certain dances that I could not, and would not dance. I was still far too
uncomfortable. However, over time, my level of trust increased.”

One night after being invited to a Swing dance by a school friend, things began to
change.

“My friend had a brother who was a really good dancer, and I was to be his partner for the night.
The first few songs went as usual, difficult to be close and a fight for some control.
During our first few songs he tried to teach me to let go and dance, and have fun. He could tell I
was hesitant but I didn’t tell him why. At one point he said to me, ‘Relax. Let me lead.’ This was the first
time I took a breath and let men in. There was something about his eyes that were so kind and good. It
was difficult, but I started to let him lead me. Then I realized that that one incident had affected five years
of my life. Dating, friends, even my relationship with my father, who had always been such a good man,
were hindered by that moment, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it until then.”

She later explained to me how other events seemed to help also. Her mother once
approached her and said with understanding in her tone, “It’s not your fault.” But she had
never told her mother what had happened. Soon after that Swing night with a friend and one
good man, other dances started to interest her. She was fortunate in that she had good friends
and family to help her.

“Swing, Lindy Hop, and Tango came into my life. They helped me get over the rest of my fear
and learn to trust again.
When I’m dancing I feel beautiful and powerful again, like I have control. I don’t have to do
things I don’t want to. Dance taught me that.
I am now able to trust men, not just with my body, but with my emotions and mind as well.
Dance has changed my life in so many ways. I have never felt so liberated and happy. I have learned that I
am in control of my body. I choose who can touch it and who I will not allow to touch it. I feel a new
sense of power, personal drive, and happiness because of dance.”

-Anonymous

The reality is that we live in a world where not everyone is safe to be around. There are
people in the world, some even who may be close to us, who will hurt us, and for no other
reason than personal, selfish gratification. But it has been my experience that there can be
havens of safety from carnal individuals who have caused pain, whether intentional or not.
Such havens can be found in homes of kind, loving family members, or in the company of good
friends, who are supportive and caring.
Social dances have also shown potential in offering a safe place for social gathering. It
has been a source of pride in the dance world that social dances in ballroom atmospheres never
have alcohol in attendance. These communities support an environment of mutual respect for
others and one’s self. Ballroom dances are safe for the whole family, and for individuals looking
to meet others for friendship, or a relationship. After all, ballroom dancing is about generating
trust between people.
Dancers, like anyone we might meet, come from many different backgrounds and are
likely to have difficult circumstances that they are striving to overcome. This next story is of one
such individual named Rebecca, who has overcome the challenges of her upbringing and had
some unexpectedly pleasant results come with it. Rebecca is a high-spirited dancer, with great
passion and drive for the exercise and stimulation of it. She’s fun, social, and eager to be
involved. But, it was not always like this for her. Home life often made it very difficult for her to
be herself and do the things she wanted. Her mother worked all day and into the evening, and
so there wasn’t anyone around to help with the family. Rebecca began feeling a lot of
aggression toward her mother about this, but felt she had to keep it bottled up inside because
she knew her mother had to work. To make matters worse, she had a step-father who wasn’t
involved much in family affairs.

“At home I was the parent. I had to watch my younger siblings every day. I couldn’t dance
because I had to watch them. So there were times I snuck out during the night to run, or go dancing, to
work out aggression. I had a lot of aggression back then.
At age sixteen, I looked at dance and felt that it was something I could do the rest of my life and
be completely happy. It became a way for me to express myself and get out emotions. I knew it was
something I could be good at.
My stepdad was verbally abusive and gone all the time. None of us knew what he was doing, but
the responsibilities were always shoved off on me. Anything that went wrong was my fault, and it seemed
that he was always angry, usually at me. I talked with my mom about it one day and she had no idea that
I felt the way I did. But she was not around very much.”

Rebecca went on to explain that it was soon after that, that her mother realized she
needed “a big change,” and started to think a lot about divorce. In the meantime, Rebecca kept
dancing as often as she could.

“I felt like it was the one thing I had that was mine that I could escape to. It helped keep me going
during the tough days. Then my mom came to me and said, ‘I want to do this with you, and build up our
relationship again.’ We danced in classes together and soon started talking about other things which
made us appreciate each other more. We have a better relationship now. We talk with each other all the
time now, and we both keep dancing.”

Rebecca also has an older sister who loves dancing but had left for school during this
transition in her life. I asked her what her sister thought about all this new interaction with their
mother. She told me, “She can’t believe the change that has taken place.” Before this point in her
life, Rebecca hardly had any relationship with her mother at all. So it seems that not only did
Rebecca’s dancing help to save her from the challenges of her home life, but it has had a hand
in saving the relationship with members of her family as well.

-Rebecca Lamar, Candonton, Missouri

Student of Ballroom Dance

This next story is one about the dedication and perseverance of one individual. When
Carly turned nine she saw a high school performance by a team called Dance Line. At that
point, she got excited about dance for the first time in her life and wanted to be like them.

“Mom put me in dance when I was three. I would cling to her and scream the whole time. I was
horrible. They all remember me for that.
[Dance Line performed] an exciting, energetic routine that looked fun. They all had such big
smiles and I wanted to be like them.”
 After watching the performance, she quickly got back into classes, and a few years later
made the same team, Dance Line, in high school. But, soon after that difficult problems came up
that couldn’t be ignored.

“By my second year on Dance Line my knee started hurting. Sitting was fine, but standing hurt
and my knee swelled up at the end of every day two to three times bigger than it should have been. I spent
a lot of nights watching TV with my knee elevated on ice.”

Surgery put Carly out of practice for two months during the competition season. She
explained that the doctors had to open the knee and get under the patella (knee cap) to scrape
out loose and jagged calcium deposits that had accumulated there, doing damage to the
surrounding joint. During that time, Dance Line had shows for every halftime of the basketball
season, and she felt like she was letting the team down.

“It hurt so much that I couldn’t be out there with them performing. Sitting there watching my
team, knowing that I couldn’t be out there doing what I loved, broke my heart, and I was jealous because I
was the injured one not able to be with them…”

After the initial two months, there was still several more months of painful physical
therapy, and her knee would often swell up again. Eventually her knee was able to heal fully,
and she returned to dancing, thankful that she was able to.

“I keep dancing today because, for me, dance has become an escape from day-to-day stresses, and
a release that makes me feel more alive. It has taught me that hard work and dedication can get you
anywhere. It is something that is exciting to me, something that gets me up in the morning, and helps me
get through my day.”

-Carly
Student of Modern and Ballet

For many, growing up is a hard experience, one that many don’t often wish to
remember, for many different reasons. This next story is one I’m sure many of us can relate to,
as we remember that childhood peers can often be cruel. This individual was a target of that
cruelty. She expressed to me how she had a very hard time in school when she was young, and
how dance has been a healing activity for her.

“My first experience with dance was probably the most pure experience. I didn’t know about
technique but I put the most into my movement. No other thoughts and feelings interfered. I could drop
almost everything and be immersed in whatever dance I was doing.
Dancing different choreography allowed me to explore thoughts and emotions, and deal with
them. That helped me let them go.”

The new experiences she found after getting on a dance team opened new doors,
showing the potential for new life and expression without judgment from those around her.

“Team experience was really phenomenal. You have to work with [your team] in such a different
way. You have to be aware of that person, connecting you to that person in a much deeper way. I always
had the most fun with the people I was with on my teams. You can let go and have fun with them but also
be serious and disciplined.”

-Anonymous

In life we may feel we are moving down a path toward an end goal, fairly certain of
where we will end up. But sometimes we find that our path has led us to other places and
grander heights than we would ever have believed were possible. This individual shared deep
connections with friends she made on dance teams that she couldn’t find in other places, which
freed her to express herself and become more the person she was meant to be. Working now as
a talented artist, she uses much of the creativity that dance allowed her to explore in her youth,
to create beautiful art pieces. She still dances too, and finds it a healthy and vital part of who
she is and has become.
During my interviews for this work I found it hard to get a lot of male participation.
This was mainly because there weren’t a lot of serious male dancers available to interview. But
then I met Taylor. We were two of only a small handful of male dancers in a class dominated by
talented women. He always had great enthusiasm and a drive to improve his work in technique
and style. As I got to know him I found out that he had grown up in a dance studio owned by
his family, and so I asked him about his thoughts on dance. In our interview he gave me some
great insights to what it was like for him growing up as the only male dancer in his community.

“I started dancing when I was three at my mom’s studio, and I was probably the only guy dancer
in my town until I was about sixteen when a friend of mine joined. Dancing back home was kinda hard
for me because I was the only guy who danced, so I got teased a lot. It was really hard at first, getting
bugged about dance. Mostly it happened at school from certain groups of guys. Girls never bugged me.
That was nice, so most of my friends are all girls. I got teased up until junior year of high school. Then it
all quit because TV shows like “So You Think You Can Dance,” and “Americas Best Dance Crew,”
started coming out, and I was the only kid in my town that did Hip Hop. Then everyone realized that I
actually could dance, so there was a drastic change during my last two years of high school. It opened up
so many opportunities for me to go have fun and be who I am.
Dance was kind of a love/hate thing for a lot of years, but once I got past the point of caring about
whether I got teased, it opened up to me all the greatest things in my life. I grew to love it so much that
it’s now the biggest part of my life and I don’t think I could ever stop. Dance is what my personality is. If
I didn’t have dance, I don’t know what I’d be doing. I’m probably going to dance forever, or until I’m
extremely crippled.
Life at my mom’s studio was hard because I was the son of the owner, so I got worked the hardest.
It made me practice even harder so I wouldn’t get ‘attacked’ in a class by the teacher for not knowing the
steps, which made me a stronger dancer, which I’m thankful for. I’m glad they got after me because I did
have quite the lazy attitude for a few years. It was fun; a really good atmosphere to grow up in. My mom
was like a mother to the entire studio, and I got some of the closest friendships I think I’ll ever have there.
For me, I dance because I like to be on stage and perform for others, and make others feel as happy
as I do when I dance. I also dance whenever I’m sad. Or if I’m really happy, I got to start a groove in my
kitchen or make up dances in my head. It’s how I know how to react with what I’m feeling in my head.
It’s a good way for me to let out my emotions, without being angry or showing sadness. That’s why I’m
generally a happy person, because I put all of my emotion into my dancing.”

-Taylor J. Boschman, British Co. Canada

Student of Hip Hop, Tap, and Contemporary
 Now I want to introduce to you a friend with really great energy. Thea is an actress and
dancer, hoping to teach one day. In all the time I’ve known her, she has had great passion and
energy for her work, and dance in general. A fun, caring individual, she is eager in all things
she puts her mind to. For her, dance is another character she gets to explore on stage, and this
helps her to explore her inner self. She remembers dance being the first thing she was ever
passionate about. For her, it has been something to look forward to.

“I was so clumsy when I was little. I bumped into walls constantly and my mother didn’t want
me to hurt myself any more. She said, ‘We need to do something about this, so let’s put her in dance
lessons.’ I started out taking several classes: Tap, Jazz, and Lyrical, to start with. I just liked it so much
that I practiced all the time and in the first few months I was moved to the advanced Tap class with the
teenagers. I was eight years old.”

Thea’s early childhood experience with dance, her enthusiasm, and her obvious talent,
was motivating. Her sister and mother soon joined her in taking lessons, and later they entered
the “Prescott Valley Days Competition” [in Arizona] together, taking third place. Thea recalls
her little sister wanting to follow along to all her practices.

“I remember her saying, ‘I want to do it too Mom.’ The studio apparently had a great family deal
of $75 for three people. So my mom said, ‘What the heck, let’s all join.’ Dance is all I did back then. I went
from school, to home to dance class.
You have to be dedicated to something to make it work, and if you mess up, you keep on going. I
love dance because it’s unbiased. You don’t have to look a certain way, or act a certain way, or have a
God-given talent; you just have to have love and a willingness to work hard. Anyone can dance because
dance is unique to us. Dance allows us to interpret it, and therefore put an extension of ourselves within
it. It allows us to tap into our creativity and move our bodies in new and exciting ways. It lets us explore
unknown ground and push our body to its limit. But most of all, I love dance because it comes from
within. It is physical, yes, but it is also mental, emotional, and spiritual. It is never the same because
none of us are exactly the same.
Dance gives you immediate results, which allows you to look at yourself and improve, if need be.
Dance is movement, but I think more than anything, it is an expression of the soul.”

-Thea Woodruff, Apache-junction, Arizona.

Student of Clog, Tap, Modern Dance, and Theater

Challenges in life exist for all of us. On occasion, you may experience some that seem to
set you apart from others. There are problems we face that are ours to deal with the best we can.
The impossible challenges seem to affect us and push us beyond our perceived limitations more
then all others. This last story is a very personal one, about a woman who battled both with
herself and with real dangers that seemed to suffocate the best parts of her life.

“My husband was an angry, abusive man and I was afraid of him. We had gone to counseling
together once years before and he had participated in treatment for alcoholism and anger management a
couple of times during our marriage, but he never managed to get control of his temper and he had
returned to drinking.
[One year] we had a difficult and strained vacation in Hawaii, but my youngest daughter and I
stayed a few extra enjoyable days when it came time for him and my older daughter to return home to
their jobs. During these few days we relaxed, explored the island’s restaurants and watched a surprising
number of movies. One of them would inspire me to make a decision that would ultimately change the
course of my life. The movie was “Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights.”
As we watched it I felt that the dancing was amazing and I found myself constantly thinking,
even dreaming about what it would be like to move one’s body in a way that was sensual, expressive, and
spoke of freedom—not to mention the fast, upbeat rhythm was energetic and looked like a lot of fun. I
bought the movie and then the soundtrack when we returned home from the trip. I played the music in
my car and on my computer at work every day for over a month. I imagined dancing salsa in a club with
my partner and I the center of attention as we moved in perfect unison, communicating movement
through energy and touch. But this was not me. Except for the basic Swing my father taught me when I
was a girl, I had never danced a step in my life; and far from the young, sexy, daringly clad women who
danced in the movie, I was middle-aged, out of shape, overweight and had a closet full of loose-fitting
clothes. I got winded just walking up a flight of stairs.
[One week] I took advantage of an opportunity to visit my parents during my lunch hour from
work. The “Dirty Dancing” soundtrack was playing in my car as I pulled into the driveway. I thought of
my parents and their lives together. The one thing that stood out in my memory is they danced and did it
often. They turned the garage into a dance studio of sorts, took classes, practiced, went to dances,
practiced with friends, had dance parties, and practiced some more. As a teenager it seemed to me their
entire lives were wrapped up in dancing. When they weren’t working, they were dancing. Even their
arguments were usually about dancing.
I sat with my Dad and visited while he finished his lunch. I took out the CD and asked the
question I secretly wished I had asked thirty years earlier, “Dad, could you teach me to dance to the music
on this CD?” Right away he got up and put the CD into his sound system in the living room. He
listened, frowned, tried a few steps in place and then announced he thought it was a fast tango, which he
simply couldn’t do anymore. He immediately suggested I take some lessons and promptly got out the
phone book. We looked up dance studios and found the closest one to my home and work. I wrote down
the website and brought up the schedule of classes. There was a salsa class starting the next Monday
evening!
Over the next couple of days I brought up the website and contemplated what it would be like to
take a dance class. Once I even drove to the studio to see how long it would take me to get there on my
lunch hour—ten minutes. That was doable. But it was ridiculous. I didn’t believe my husband would
ever agree to take lessons with me much less allow me to do it during my lunch hour with another man
and paying for it without his knowledge would be a problem. It was an insane and dangerous idea. I
pushed the thoughts of dancing out of my mind and threw myself into the activities associated with my
work.
The first day of the salsa class came and went, but I couldn’t keep away from the studio’s website.
I had missed the start of the salsa class, but a beginning swing class was starting the next Sunday. Swing
was my Dad’s favorite dance and as a young girl he had shown me the basic step in one of my weaker
moments when I actually allowed my parents to teach me something. Occasionally we’d dance it
together, always to Glen Miller’s “In the Mood.” Swing would be fun to learn and maybe [my husband]
would agree to take that class with me on a Sunday. He had been given assignments by our counselor to
interview me in the hopes of getting to know me better. He had absolutely no idea what I did in my work,
what my dreams were, and not a clue of what my fears were. During one of our “interviews” I got up the
courage to talk to him about my interest in dance and gave him the website information. I told him I
would really like to do Salsa, but there was also a Swing class starting on Sunday. He actually looked up
the website and called the studio. He said he’d signed us up for the Swing class. I was stunned and then
panic stricken as I realized I was actually going to take a dance class.
 When we arrived, several people were waiting to register. A man was standing at the counter.
When we walked in he flashed us a big smile and welcomed us in a voice that seemed too loud for the
panicked state I was in. I had read about him on his website. His dance career spanned over thirty years.
With his experience, I wondered how much patience he would have with someone like me, who was not
only a total beginner with no natural talent, but who was also likely to cry or throw up at any moment.
I made it through the first class without doing either and actually felt good about my ability to at
least keep up. The Swing lesson my parents had given me all those years ago served me well for this first
class. I enjoyed myself and was excited by the prospect that maybe I could learn to dance after all. Even
my husband seemed to have a good time. As we left the studio that evening, our instructor told us he had
a beginning Salsa class on Monday nights, which we could join a week late if we were interested. He
assured us we wouldn’t have any problem catching up because he always reviewed the previous week’s
lesson. Salsa—this was the dance I had been dreaming about for weeks and I was feeling just confident
enough at that moment to say yes.
I was anxious about what other people would think of me if I turned out to be less than an ideal
partner, and because of my husband’s erratic behavior, I was also extremely nervous about interacting
with other people, especially men. I felt sick to my stomach, but resolved I would not give up the idea I
could learn to dance. I recognized I had a fear, which at its core had roots both in my personality and in
my dysfunctional relationship with my husband. This fear might prevent me from learning, growing, and
enjoying myself, or fulfilling a dream. I was determined to dance, do it right, and have it look good.
When my husband was angry, he was scary. He’d sometimes go into out-of-control rages,
threaten and intimidate, throw and slam things. My oldest daughter and one other daughter were living
on their own now. Both were afraid of this man they called dad and had left home because of him. On
separate occasions he had threatened both their lives. Days and weeks would pass, but I was still driven
by fear and I vacillated about telling him our marriage was over.
One Monday night my husband came back to the bedroom to ask what I was doing. I reminded
him I was going to the Salsa class and told him I planned to meet my friends for a bite to eat before going
to the studio. Never in all our years together had I ever seen him so enraged. As he yelled, threw things,
hit doors and walls and called me every vile name he could think of, I tried to stay quiet and calm,
knowing I needed to get out of the house quickly, but not wanting to become the direct recipient of his
violent rage. He threatened to go to the studio so he could see what I was really up to, and told me he was
always watching me. I was shaken, but followed through on my plans to meet my friends and attend the
class. My life was turning upside down, but still I danced.”

Later on, Rae Ellen was able to leave her abusive husband and get settled in a new place
where healing began. She continued lessons, and later went on to compete in a dance
competition. She has since done many competitions and attributes the freedom and sense of
peace she now enjoys to dance, as it motivated her to step out of her shell and dare to challenge
herself once again. This excerpt was taken from, and can be read in full detail, in “Dancing on
Roller Coasters.”

“Although sad about the difficulties my children had experienced, I had no regrets. I couldn’t
choose over a different path from the one I had started down fourteen years earlier. Nothing would be
gained by wishing I’d turned right instead of left. The experiences I’d had, the choices I’d made all
contributed to the person I had become. Our strength and power lies in our ability to make new choices
each day and in recognizing that the choices we make today determine who we will become tomorrow.
The [competition] was my “tomorrow.” My now ex-husband couldn’t touch my life anymore. I was free
of him and I was okay. I was better than okay—I wasn’t afraid.”
- Rae Ellen Reas, Seattle Washington
Social Dancer and Area Competitor