The May Fete--a dance tradition

I'm not sure if Miss Dieman is in this particular photo, but she was in the group of college women that did these dances.

The (rather blurry--sorry!) photo is from a copy of the Coe College yearbook documenting the 1923-24 school year. Miss Dieman was a junior, and she was part of the Campus Fete, also known as the May Fete.

Each year, a May Queen was chosen from the student body, and a celebration--with costumed dances on the lawn of the campus--was held in her honor.  This wasn't just at Coe. May Fetes seemed to be a tradition all around the country. Just with a quick Google search, I found May Fete photos from U of Illinois, Carleton College, Pomona, and my alma mater The College of Wooster.

The dances in these celebrations arose from a turn-of-the century trend toward encouraging women to exercise. No more fainting Victorian maidens!  But acceptable exercise was limited: one 1900 editorial from a badminton magazine said this:

“. . . unlimited indulgence in violent, outdoor sports--cricket, bicycling, beagling, otter-hunting, paper-chasing, and--most odious of all games for women--hockey, cannot but have an unwomanly effect on a young girl’s mind no less than her appearance . . . Let young girls ride, skate, dance, and play lawn tennis and other games in moderation, but let them leave field sports to those for whom they were intended--men.”

Luckily, dance made the list of "appropriate" activities. 

The newly (and partially)-liberated young women were trained in several popular movement styles. One had been pioneered by Francois Delsarte, and was named for him. It taught combinations of movements to express emotions. "The object of art is to crystallize emotion into thought and give it form," said Delsarte.

Delsarte movement instruction was quite elaborate. Students learned a vocabulary of gestures.  Here are a few from a book called Delsarte System of Expression:

Description of action:  head level between shoulders, inclined neither to right nor left, up nor down.

Signification:  Calm repose or indifference

Description of action:  Head leans toward object, but must not be raised, depressed, or rotated.  

Signification:  Trust, tenderness, sympathy, affection, esteem from the soul.
 

Description of action:  head thrown back, midway between the shoulders

Signification: exaltation, explosion from self as a center, a lifting to the universal.

When I look at these May Fete photos, I wonder if the dancers were influenced by Delsarte.

Today we may not be very impressed by these dancers' costumes, but imagine: the women in these photos were usually trussed up in corsets, stockings, and skirts every day. It must have been incredibly freeing to dance barefoot on the lawn.

I've noticed that most of the women in the pictures have bobbed hair.  No more heavy buns and elaborate hairstyles.

May Fete dancers probably also took some cues from other dance and movement pioneers of the era, like Eugene Jacques Dalcroze.  Dalcroze gave his name to a school of movement that sought to teach rhythm and musical expression through movement. Miss Dieman spent two summers studying the Dalcroze methods in New York City after she graduated from Coe.

The lightly-clad figures in these photos also make me think of Isadora Duncan, who pioneered her own form of dance based on natural movements. One of the May Fetes that Miss Dieman participated in had a Greek theme, like many of Duncan's dances.

I am sure that these experiences with dance on the soft green lawns of a college campus influenced Miss Dieman to continue on with dance, and to bring dance to the lives of others.

Grandmothers in Dance

If you're from Cedar Rapids, my current hometown, you probably know these two women.  They are Julia Bennett (left) and Edna Dieman (right), the founders of a long-running dance studio here in Cedar Rapids.

Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett are my grandmothers in dance.

I don't know if "grandmothers in dance" is actually a thing, but it means this: they were the teachers of my ballet teacher, Suki Morrisey. (Yes, at age 52, I take ballet classes, twice a week, with other ladies . . . of a certain age. I am grateful for the opportunity.)

Suki, who was the Sugar Plum Fairy for many Nutcracker performances of the Dieman-Bennett Dance studio, sprinkles our "Adult Intermediate" ballet classes with anecdotes about Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett, who were apparently formidable teachers--full of passion and high expectations for all their many, many students (they taught here for 40 years). I love hearing these stories.

We often heard about "Miss Bennett's notebooks," which were, according to Suki, a set of large blue three-ring binders that Miss Bennett had filled with typewritten stories and remembrances of her life: her memoir. Suki hoped that the stories in those notebooks would live on, somehow, after Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett had passed away.

At some point, it dawned on me. I am a writer: maybe I can help share the story of my dance grandmothers . . .

I talked my ideas over with a friend, choreographer and dance instructor Carol Maxwell-Rezabek--could we somehow bring Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett's words, ideas, and dances to life for a contemporary audience?  We decided to try.

This summer, we began our work, learning about Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett by going through their papers, memoirs, diaries, VHS tapes, newspaper clippings, photographs, and Miss Bennett's Notebooks--housed at the Iowa Women's Archives. You can't imagine how delightful this work was. Or maybe you can.

This fall, I hope to interview with people who knew Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett--former students, collaborators, people involved in the arts in Cedar Rapids--to get more perspective on their work.

Our goal? Carol and I hope to create a multi-media presentation that shares images, words, music, and dance by and about Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett.

I'm not sure how long it will take us to create this presentation. In the meantime, I thought I'd share some images I've discovered and reflections on what I'm learning about Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett.

One of the images I discovered was this one. Don't they look elegant?  they look like they are wearing some kind of ethnic clothing--kimonos or, more likely, something from India.

The photo appeared in the Gazette, the local paper in Cedar Rapids, in March of 1951, just before Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett performed for the first time in Cedar Rapids as guest artists of the Beethoven Club.  They called the program their "triumvirate performance," as it blended 1. singing, 2. dancing, and 3. piano music.  Miss Bennett sang--songs from Schumann's Dichterliebe Song Cycle--Miss Dieman danced (while Miss Bennett sang Schumann, and to music of India and Spain) and Alma Turachek, professor of music at Coe College played piano.

The article notes that this was not the first performance. The program's debuted January 7, 1951--in New York City.

Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett met in New York City in 1945. Miss Dieman was there studying ethnic dance and working for the Center for Ethnologic Dance. Miss Bennett had just arrived from India, where she had grown up and where her British parents still lived, hoping to make a start as a professional singer. Apparently Miss Bennett had very little money, but she did have authentic Indian saris, which Miss Dieman bought.

"It was there, at the ethnological Dance Center, that I met Edna Dieman, Director of the Center," writes Miss Bennett in her Notebooks. "It was her birthday and I remember it well.  Her eyes were like stars and looked through me like laser beams.  It was a meeting that would change my life."

Miss Bennett's notebooks are deliciously dramatic.

This photo is a visual record of the importance of that meeting. In 1950, the two women came to Cedar Rapids--Miss Dieman's hometown--to teach a summer dance class. They ended up moving here. They started their dance studio in a small room at the YWCA, teaching ballet.

They were always multi-faceted artists. They didn't just teach ballet--they taught Spanish dance, Hindu dance, and Baroque dance, too.  There were yoga classes, and classes for adult students, like the one I'm taking now. Miss Bennett continued performing as a singer, and the Dieman-Bennett Dance Studio was known for its extensive collaborations with other arts organizations in town.

This is just the first photo that documents their impact on Cedar Rapids.  It's a hint of things to come.

As Gazette Arts writer Dee Ann Rexroat wrote in 1990, "Miss Dieman and Miss Bennett.  The names are synonymous with dance and the arts in Cedar Rapids."

Over the next week or so, before things get too busy at Coe, I'll use this blog to share a few more of what I've discovered about my influential grandmothers in dance.

Mitzi Mittens, beloved pet, dies at 14

Mitzi Mittens, beloved pusset of the Nesmith family, died on Friday in Cedar Rapids.  She was almost 14.

Mitzi had lived with lymph cancer for the past year, and had done remarkably well on a regimen of steroids and vitamins, continuing her daily schedule of patrolling the back yard, sitting on laps, and keeping the family company. She was taken acutely ill on Friday morning, and passed later that day.

Adopted by the family when she was a small kitten, Mitzi had an endearing personality that combined curiosity with restraint. Everyone loved her nose stripe and chin dot, like an exclamation point on her face.

She loved to nap with the boys, Robbie and Eli, and enjoyed following family members around the house. She had very good manners, and was very polite when asking for a taste of someone's ice cream. She knew her name and came when called.

Not much of a hunter, she could be trusted to stay in the yard and not harm small critters living there except for the occasional butterfly. She enjoyed rolling in garlic mustard and mint plants while outside.


One of her favorite pastimes was to join the family as they played board games, first walking over the board and pieces, and then sitting with her back to everyone. She was a good kitty, and the family often told her so.  They will miss her very much.

The funeral will be held on Sunday or Monday, depending on the weather.  No flowers; please send memorial donations to the Cedar Valley Humane Society.

Poison Season

It's weed-poisoning season.

I thought I missed it--usually I poison weeds around the time forsythia blooms (that's when the weeds are "actively growing.") This year, forsythia came and went, and the dandelions popped up.  They were beautiful.

And suddenly they were not.

Our weed-studded lawn stood out among the rest of the lawns of our lovely tree-studded older neighborhood.

I knew I needed to so something: poison the weeds.

I have such mixed feelings about using this stuff.  I'm living in Iowa, one of the big contributors to the dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico because of all the farm fertilizers that wash down the Mississippi.  I don't want to be even a small part of that.

Plus, there are bunnies that live in our front yard. I'm not super-crazy about them--they nibble anything I try to plant in the front garden--but they are fellow creatures. 

And food for the neighborhood's barred owl family.

Still, the dandelions are so ugly, and the crab grass that arrives later in the season isn't pretty either.
I tried using an organic weed and feed in the past.  In fact, when the boys were little, that was all I used.  Unfortunately, it isn't very effective.  I didn't notice any change in the yard when I was using it, alas.

The salesperson at the nursery said that it's not too late to use it.  It rained last night to make the grass (and weeds) damp so that the poison would work.  No rain for the next couple of days so it won't wash down into the Mississippi.

So off I went with the weed poison and my spreader feeling very torn.

I cheered myself up by singing "Keep Your Hand on the Plow" while I spread poison.

Let's hope it does what it needs to do with the least possible amount of damage to other organisms.

Confusing Spring Ephemerals

There's a page in my bird book called "Confusing Fall Warblers." It has pictures of all the warblers (small migrating songbirds) that look similar in their fall plumage.  As in: they are all small, olive drab, and way up in the tops of the trees.

This flower-geek post is going to be about something similar: spring wildflowers that confuse me every year:  Bloodroot, Hepatica, Spring Beauties, and False Rue Anemone.

They're all spring ephemerals--they appear in the spring, and then die completely back by summer. And they all have small, simple white flowers.  And I always mix them up!  This bugs me.

As a word person, I like to know the right word for everything.  I think I've finally got these flowers figured out.

I wasn't sure I'd see ANY wildflowers when I went over to Palisades-Kepler State Park this week.  Our winter was so long and cold that I didn't know if the flowers would be up.

But look what was there to greet me at the start of the trail!  Pants!

As in Dutchman's Breeches!  They are probably my favorite spring wildflower, mostly because of the name.  Once you know the name, there's no way you can see these comical flowers--that look like starched white bloomers hanging crotch-up from a stem--and not laugh.

But these don't confuse me.

Here are the confusing ones, and I'll explain how I figured out how to tell them apart.

This is Bloodroot.  Its white flowers are usually a bit bigger than the others', and they stand on taller stems. The stamens are conspicuous and yellow. The tell-tale sign that they're bloodroot is the deeply-lobed leaf that's usually curled around the stem.

Apparently, they also have orangy roots, but I'm not going to pull any up to see.

Next comes Hepatica, above.  This one's tricky because the best way to identify it is by the three-lobed, mottled leaves.  Sometimes the leaves are underneath the leaf litter in the woods. Hepatica are sometimes called Liverwort (what a great word--but not very pretty!) because, like our livers, the leaves have 3 lobes.

Hepatica can sometimes be pale purple as well, which makes it look like

Spring Beauties!  You can be sure that you're seeing spring beauties--not Hepatica--if the plant has long, thin grass-like leaves.  But Hepatica always likes shade, and Spring Beauties sometimes bloom in the sun.  Kind of like

This little flower, which was just coming into bloom when I was walking.  It's a False Rue Anemone, and it has delicate little leaves that come off of the stem.  Sometimes it can be quite large later in the spring.

I saw some other less-confusing flowers on this trip, too, like this Wake-robin with a bud about to flower.

And some Wild Oats, also about to flower.

Hope you also get out to see the spring wildflowers--and that you don't get confused!

Hunter-gatherer in the Hy-Vee

Some women love shoe shopping.

I love grocery shopping.

Good thing, too, because it's one of the chores that I do for the family.

Not sure why I enjoy it so much.  Something about walking into a well-lit, well-stocked grocery store makes me feel energized and capable.

These days I usually shop on Thursday mornings.

Maybe that's one reason why I like grocery shopping: my unusual working schedule (half time teaching at Coe and assorted freelance writing assignments) allows me to shop when I'm not stressed and the store is not crowded.

Thursday morning grocery shoppers are primarily senior citizens, moms (and, more frequently these days, dads) with little children, and me.

At the store entrance, I grab a cart, put on my reading glasses, and pull out my list.

The produce section is one of my favorites. I roll my cart past pyramids of oranges, bunches of bananas, tables of apples. 

After picking up some "Jazz" apples, I see a display labeled "Jungle fruits."  Intrigued, I walk over. There are baskets of starfruits, mangoes, and prickly rambutan, along with a few pineapples. I grab a starfruit--something to tempt Eli the picky eater.

I stop to feast my eyes on the wall of greens just beyond the fruit.

After a long, cold winter, I welcome the opportunity to see leaves.  Like the starfruit, these greens came a long way to this Iowa grocery store--I'm guessing they traveled by truck and plane to get here. Some days, I feel guilty that my food has a pretty large carbon footprint. Other days I'm just happy that it's summer somewhere and that I can benefit.

As I roll by, I look forward to summer days when I can bike down to the farmer's market to buy produce.

Once past the produce, I push my car through each aisle, scanning the shelves for items on the list--where do they keep the garbanzos, anyway?--and placing them into the cart.

At the far end of the store are the meat counters. Chicken thighs are on sale, so I grab a package.  They'll go in the crock pot later this week.

Longingly, I walk by the fish counter.  The display is beautiful.

I love fish.  But this fish has come a long way--Iowa is about as far from an ocean as you can get.  I'm often a tiny bit disappointed when I've bought it.  Besides, my family isn't crazy for fish.

This aisle is more Iowan, I think.

Some of the aisles at Hy-Vee, our local grocery chain, puzzle me.  Like this one:  an entire aisle dedicated to pop.

The bigger Hy-Vees also have enormous displays of every kind of yogurt, especially Greek.  Where's the Noosa?

There are other puzzling items.  Even if I don't buy, I enjoy seeing them!

I wheel my cart up to the checkout; there's no way I can go into the "12 items or less" line. That's OK.  I love pushing my full cart up to check out.

When I'm shopping on Thursday mornings, I often roll past old couples shopping together, their cart holding just a few items: a couple cans of soup, some Danishes, a can of decaf coffee, a bunch of bananas.  Some day, that'll be me and Bruce, shopping for just us.  We shopped together before--before kids, that is--and maybe we'll do it again.  I wonder how it'll feel after the years of shopping for a family, thinking about nourishing growing boys, looking at new items and thinking "I bet Eli will like this" or "Robbie loves spaghetti--I'll make sure to make it this week."

As I put my items up on the conveyer belt, I feel glad that I'm here, at the grocery store, and glad that grocery shopping needs to be done more often than shoe shopping.

Chorale Midwest to Present Broadway Cabaret

The choir I sing in here in Cedar Rapids, Chorale Midwest, is trying something new and fun this spring: a Broadway-style cabaret.  

Here's a story I wrote about the event to send to local media outlets.  Not sure if they'll pick it up, but I can at least share it myself!  If you love Broadway--or the Chorale Midwest--come join us!

Chorale Midwest will present a Broadway music extravaganza, “A Journey Down Broadway,” on Saturday, April 5 at 2:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. at Echo Hill Presbyterian Church, 9000 C Avenue NE.

For the show, the church will be transformed into a Broadway café where guests can enjoy refreshments while listening to Chorale Midwest soloists and ensembles sing songs from favorite musicals.

The “Journey Down Broadway” will include pieces from “West Side Story,” “Rent,” “Les Miserables, “Company,” “Candide,” “Jersey Boys,” and more.

The Broadway theatre ambiance will begin as guests enter the building, which will be set up like a theatre lobby. Doormen will welcome them, CDs will be available for purchase, and free refreshments will be offered. Relaxed cabaret seating will allow guests to socialize during intermissions and before the show, as singers mingle with the crowd.

“We chose a Broadway theme because we want to offer our audience a chance to hear and see a different side of our group,” says Bradley T. Barrett, artistic director and conductor of Chorale Midwest.

The group is known for its a cappella sound and for performing diverse, challenging choral works from multiple musical genres. Chorale Midwest will be presenting its traditional spring concert at the end of April.

 Tickets for “A Journey Down Broadway” are $15 and are available on Chorale Midwest’s website, www.choralemidwest.org, or from any Chorale Midwest member.