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Date Posted: Wednesday, August 31, 05:59:45am
Author: see inside
Subject: Some words of wisdom, from the Eastern Canadian Board

A Feising We Should Know…
For many years my husband and dd have been schlepping to feises, some close by, others with a heck of drive. In every case we are excited, hopeful and happy to see friends who share this common joyful occasion. The night before, after my prima donna has folded her million dollar legs into bed and my husband is snoring from afar, I pull out the dress to air it, I pull old tape off the shoes and give them a bit of a polish, check for weak laces, make sure all the technical stuff like tape, roisin, sock glue, sissors and such are in their proper spots in the “feis bag”. The Wig gets a shake and all the hair dressing items are reviewed and set out on the dining room table for an easy morning start. Sometimes I have a little private boo hoo over the size of the socks I am now setting out. How did she grow so fast? Always I say a little prayer of gratitude for the health and happiness of my daughter who has brought me untold pleasure in her many accomplishments.
And in the dawn of Saturday morning, no matter how late I am to bed myself, I find the eyes pop open wide. An urgency begins to boil in the belly. Even when the stage schedule has the competitions set mid way in the day you just never know if there will be traffic, if there will be a stage change, if there will be less dancers than expected. The getting to a feis is part of the journey to the stage, to the music, to the lifts, to the impossible heel clicks and the beauty of the dresses flashing, sparkling to and fro. All of it comes together in a soaring moment when my child points her toe, when she is “on”. All the usual cacophony of chatter, competing accordions and violins subside as if a remote has cut off all interference from the outside world. I don’t know if one step is right or wrong. I don’t care if two steps are right or wrong. My breath is held as I simply experience the power, courage and skill it takes to do what my child is doing at that exact moment while I am standing still, riveted by her explosive energy. Down to my toes I am entranced and would sign any cheque put in front of me. As it is for all of us. We would sign any cheque it takes. We find a way to give our child the very best we can. For some that’s the moon. For most, it’s way more than a child in a third world country could begin to imagine. For some, it’s basic stuff but it gets the job done. No matter what the budget, the fact of a parent standing by, validating their child’s effort is the largest cheque of all. Even the most indulged child has no true concept of a dollar value. But if they were ignored by their parents they would feel that more than any child wearing a second hand dress, or a wig that’s seen better days.
But I digress. The point of this offering is: the common desire to do this with our children is as elemental as their drive to dance in the first place. So, we go to feis and a feis gives to us what we make of it. If we expect the feis to be waiting with open arms to satisfy our every possible physical comfort, then we tell our children that nothing in life should require patience and we don’t need to respect the efforts of others, even if those efforts fall short of perfection. I have read year after year the criticisms and unkind remarks on this board in the wake of a feis. Perhaps not all comments are meant to be hurtful, as it has been pointed out over and over that tone can never be assumed. Nevertheless there is a sense that flaws at a feis are somehow unforgiveable and require a public announcement of permanent rejection. I think everyone can find a flaw in the ointment of every single feis. I could rave about the sound at probably 80% of them. I certainly wonder at the rudeness of some adults as they rush to the beat of their own drum no matter who is in the shared or limited space. I wish that computers would never break down and judges would figure out their conflicts sooner or that musicians would never need to use the bathroom, especially when “my dd’s” competition is up next. But usually all the slings and arrows of outrageous venues drift into irrelevance when my dd wins a trophy. So perhaps those who complain the loudest after a feis were more disappointed in their child’s result that day than in the overall feis experience. Let’s face it folks, feissiana are more alike than they are different. And the underlying effort to make it all happen in the first place comes from parents just like us. There is no disengaged institution called upon to orchestrate these events. Schools host and parents are the school. Some parents are more organized this is true. But every single one of them has put aside countless hours they will never get back for the benefit of others.
I don’t want to give anyone a lecture for as to my chagrin I remember a few years back being wildly upset about something I felt should have been handled better at a competition. But as time has shaved off the first blush of my passion, I have come to realize that the whole experience is greater than the sum of its parts, or its flaws. There is sense that time is fleeting now. That each and every time I get to suffer sore feet and hot rooms and barely there air of an old school gym, that I am one less feis away from none of it at all. And so I put both hands to the day, hug my friends, help where I can, pick up a bottle that missed the garbage can, smile at the little faces of girls who look up to my daughter who was once their size, turn to a stage manager and thank them for pointing me in the right direction, appreciate the delicious cookies that took somebody and hour to bake the night before, hope for a happy result for my daughter, hold her close even if it doesn’t happen that day, and then…step out into fresh air as the sun winds its way down. My feet and back ache as I finally collapse into the car, but then we pull out the results and analyze and review and compare and say all the snippy outrageous things that need saying in the privacy of a car about insane judging…and then I look back over my shoulder at the venue now receding behind us. Plainly said, the day was a gift. The effort was theirs, those who toiled for hours to give my daughter her moment to perform, her among hundreds of others. And I think…I’ll be back by the Grace of God.

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