I found this in a box recently.
It was written by the mentor I had when I was growing up. It has to be over 35 years ago. Her name was Contance M. Sullivan aka Connie Moore, and she was my dance and theater arts instructor in Milford, Connecticut. A long time friend of the family, Connie, or Miss Connie as we all called her, was larger than life. She was six feet tall in her high heels, had flaming red hair that she swore wasn't colored (the jury is still out on that). She also wore hats and scarves, beige leather gloves, and was well known for her false eye lashes. I came out of my childhood, in spite of what happened, with some confidence and daring because of Miss Connie's influence in my life.
She's been dead for almost 10 years, but I still dream about her.
It's like she's still there, in my internal landscape, keeping me on my toes.