[Tango-L] Be Aware of Wonder: Robert Fulghum and... Tango?

[Tom Stermitz]

Remember the poem "ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN  
KINDERGARTEN" by Robert Fulghum?  It reminds me of the way we all can  
take care of each other in our tango communities and on this board.

This is actually a post about tango (see below), but first, here is  
Fulghum's famous poem:


> Most of what I really need to know about how to live and what to do  
> and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top  
> of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at  
> Sunday school. These are the things I learned:
>
> Share everything.
> Play fair.
> Don't hit people.
> Put things back where you found them.
> Clean up your own mess.
> Don't take things that aren't yours.
> Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
> Wash your hands before you eat.
> Flush.
> Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
> Live a balanced life—learn some, and think some, and draw and paint  
> and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
> Take a nap every afternoon.
> When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands  
> and stick together.
> Be aware of wonder.

It turns out that Robert Fulghum is learning tango in Seattle. He has  
several funny entries in his "Tango Chronicles" postings at his  
website. Here are links to four entries:

http://robertfulghum.com/index.php/fulghumweb/entry/406_tango/
http://robertfulghum.com/index.php/fulghumweb/entry/412_tango_two/
http://robertfulghum.com/index.php/fulghumweb/entry/ 
413_tango_chronicles_3_becoming_a_taxi/
http://robertfulghum.com/index.php/fulghumweb/entry/ 
418_the_tango_chronicles_four/

 From Tango Chronicles #1:

> Remember the film, Saturday Night Fever? Remember the way John  
> Travolta pranced down the street? Remember how he walked onto the  
> dance floor? Electric, alive, a stud horse with flaring nostrils!  
> The men stood back. The women breathed heavily, twitching with  
> eager rhythm, drops of perspiration on their brows. The music  
> cranked and the crowd went wild when John went into his disco  
> moves. The man could dance!
>
> Tango is not disco. But that’s the feeling I’m after in taking up  
> the Argentine tango challenge. It’s the impression I want to make.  
> I want attitude you can smell. When I walk into a club, and put on  
> my shoes, I want people to stand back in awe and fear. He’s here!  
> Senor Fuljumero! The man can dance! Women will stand in line to be  
> asked. Take a number.
>
> Fat chance, you say. A white-haired, seventy-year-old man whose pot- 
> belly shows no matter how hard he tries to suck it in. A murmur  
> will go up from the crowd. “Ohmygod, why is he here again?” Men  
> will smirk. Women will leave en masse for the ladies’ room.  
> Bartenders will call 911.
>
> Go ahead, mock me. Senor Fuljumero, Classico Tangoista is on the move.
>
> Well, OK, so far I can flare my nostrils pretty well. And I have  
> the suit, the shoes - even the hat. The lessons are coming along  
> nicely. And nobody actually runs when I show up for an evening  
> milonga. Looking like you might know what you’re doing is  
> essential, and I can at least look that way. Women have actually  
> asked me to dance. Well, OK, one woman. The beauty-impaired,  
> sequined-up old lady with toxic breath who seems to show up  
> wherever I go to dance. Maybe I’m overdoing the nostril flaring.

 From Tango Chronicles #4:

> Often I ask others, “Do you dance?”
> It saddens me when they reply they cannot.
> “Why?”
> “I look like an idiot on a dance floor.” or “I’m just not a dancer.”
>
> My neighbor is one of these. He does not dance.
> He is 30 years old, in great shape, 6 feet 4 inches, 220 lbs., an  
> ex football star and two-time state heavyweight wrestling champion.  
> A law degree, and an MBA from Stanford. Nimble in body and mind.
> He watches me go out at night. He knows where I’m going. But he  
> ignores me. His wife would like it if he would take her out  
> dancing. But he’s not going. He says he cannot dance. He would be  
> embarrassed to try.
>
> I said to him, “Let me get this straight. You mean you used to  
> dress up in a set of tights I wouldn’t wear to a Gay Pride parade,  
> and get out in the middle of a gym on the floor with another guy -  
> one you don’t even know - and get all wrapped up and sweaty with  
> him in an intense embrace, while a couple of thousand people  
> screamed at you, but it would embarrass you to put on a suit and  
> tie and take your wife to a nightclub, hold her close, and move  
> around in the dark to music? ARE YOU CRAZY?”
>
> ...
>
> So the correct question is not, “Can you dance?”
> The question is, “Can you still learn?”
> If you can - take dance lessons.
> And if you can’t, then you’re probably going out of your mind.
> Sooner rather than later.


Tom Stermitz
http://www.tango.org
2525 Birch St
Denver, CO 80207