The lights were burning, my heart was thumping and my hands were shaking as we prepared to take the stage for Saturday night’s Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars competition.
“It’s just you and me,” said Ranko Bogosavac, my partner and instructor. He took my hand and looked into my eyes to steady my nerves. “There’s no one else out there. We’re just dancing together like always.”
I smiled nervously at him and nodded, feigning more confidence than I felt.
I heard Emcee Busta Brown call our names. It was time.
We stepped onto the stage at the Millennium Center, the music started and suddenly we were dancing the mambo.
I moved toward Ranko, shaking my hips and sliding my hands up and along my body. The crowd cheered.
I felt sexy, I felt graceful, I felt alive.
Then I hit a slick spot on the stage and just felt lucky to still be standing upright. I’d missed a turn, but I didn’t think anyone who didn’t know our routine would notice.
The rest of the dance is a blur. I remember hitting a few more slippery spots and sliding a bit, but never falling, thank heavens.
I remember Ranko lifting me and spinning me around in a big, flashy turn. And I remember doing the death drop at the end of the routine, taking Ranko’s hands and letting my body plummet toward the stage.
Then it was over. I was standing, the audience was applauding, and Ranko and I were taking our bows.
We had done it.
It wasn’t my best performance of the routine ever, but I felt pretty good about it.
The judges’ remarks were kind. The ones I remember the most came from Lynn Felder, a former Dancing With the Forsyth County Stars champion, an amazing dancer and my friend and former colleague at the Journal. She said she “relished” my performance (get it?) and that I lived up to my nickname of Miss Glimmer (a name she gave me because our spell-check program would always suggest that she change Gilmor to Glimmer when she would type my name into messages).
I was grateful for their praise, although they would not determine who had given the best performance. That would be left to the audience.
I left the stage, still shaking a little and relieved that it was over. I hugged Ranko, who then ran off to get changed for his performance with State Rep. Earline Parmon, which was coming up soon. I ran off to meet my friends, find a glass of wine and enjoy the rest of the performances.
Which I did.
Everyone did a great job, particularly Rodney Ellis, the vice president of the N.C. Association of Educators. He really had the crowd going with his smooth moves. The audience chose him for Best Performance, and he deserved it.
Parmon won for Best Costume, also well deserved.
And I won for Overall Commitment for raising the most money for Communities in Schools.
I went home with a trophy, a plaque, a big basket of goodies from Dewey’s, and an even bigger smile on my face.
I’d had such a great time, not only on the night of the competition, but throughout my training. It was a huge honor to be invited to participate, a rare privilege to be taught by a world-class dancer such as Ranko, and a treat to meet all the fantastic people at Fred Astaire Dance Studio in Clemmons.
As I was leaving to go home, I ran up to hug Ranko and thank him profusely yet again.
His response: “I’m giving you one week off.”
Then, he said, he wants to start teaching me to dance for real – not just memorizing one routine, but really learning the full spectrum of ballroom dancing.
I thought about that as I left the newsroom last night. For the first time in a long time, I had no commitments in the evening. I had no dance lesson to go to, no RiverRun film festival screeners to review. It was just me, my dog and the TV.
So what did I watch? “Dancing with the Stars.”
Yep, I’m hooked. See you next week, Ranko.
One of the best things about participating in Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars has been the chance to get to know my partner, Ranko Bogosavac.
Ranko, 27, is a world-class dancer, internationally known, with a list of awards and competition wins that goes on and on. If you could see him dance, you’d understand why. The professionals on TV’s “Dancing with the Stars” have nothing on Ranko. He’s that good.
In fact, he was one of the professionals on the TV version of “Dancing with the Stars” in his native Yugoslavia.
He wasn’t always a dancer, though. From ages 6 to 11 his focus was on gymnastics. But he didn’t see a future in it. “You don’t have longevity with your career in gymnastics,” he said.
He started dancing at the urging of his best friend, who needed a partner. Around the time of their third lesson, he saw a professional ballroom exhibition.
“I was hooked,” he said.
What got him, he said, is that dancing is physical, but it’s also an art. “It’s like talking through your body,” he said. “It’s a story, but it’s still a sport.”
Over the years, he grew into a national champion, specializing in rhythm and Latin dancing.
He started getting recruited by dance studios, everywhere from Moscow to Italy to the United States. But he decided that he needed to finish college before making a move. After getting his degrees in sociology and philosophy, he decided it was time to come to the United States.
He got offers from studios in New York, California, Miami, Boston, New Jersey and Florida. He could have gone anywhere. But he chose to join the Fred Astaire studio in Clemmons, based partly on advice from his manager, who reminded him of the importance of being in a place with fewer distractions, where he could concentrate on his dancing.
He and the other dancers at the studio travel around the country for competitions, but when they’re home, “we spend most of our time in the dance studio,” he said.
He has formed a tight bond with the owners of the studio, Mike Krawiec and Jenny Clark. They even invited him to share their home. He has also grown close to a local Bosnian family, the Kajtazovics. They’ve all made him feel much more at home here, he said, and have given him a sense of family, since his actual family is still in the former Yugoslavia.
“I’m eternally grateful to all of them,” he said.
Mike said that Ranko has been a remarkable addition to the studio. “To see his exuberance and his fire for what he does inspires me and helped reignite my fire for what I’m doing,” he said.
“He’s just a poster child for hard work and everything a dancer should be.”
I didn’t know much about Communities in Schools when I got the invitation to help them raise money through the Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars competition.
I’m glad I got the chance to learn more.
Communities in Schools is the largest dropout prevention organization in the country. It’s been around for 30 years, supporting students and helping them stay in school. Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars on April 9 is a fundraiser for the Forsyth County chapter.
“Whether it’s eyeglasses, tutoring or just a safe place to be, when these basic needs are met, students can concentrate on what’s really important: learning,” the organization’s website says.
Communities in Schools tries to identify the things that keep students from succeeding in school – and then meet those needs. It offers tutoring, mentoring, school supplies, counseling, help with college applications and more.
“Communities in Schools believes that caring, one-on-one relationships between adults and young people make the crucial difference,” the website says. “Programs don’t change kids – relationships do.”
To learn more, or to make a contribution, see the Forsyth County chapter’s website at http://www.cisfc.com.
It’s 9:30 in the morning and I’m standing naked in front of a stranger who’s holding a hose and a nozzle.
Her job: to give me an airbrush tan, fostering the illusion that my skin occasionally sees light that doesn’t come from a fluorescent bulb.
It’s a pretty tall order.
I stopped tanning 20 years ago, after the doctor started burning bits of skin cancer off my father’s face.
So now I’m habitually pasty.
But Ranko, my dance partner and instructor, told me that I needed to get a tan for our Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars performance on April 9. We wouldn’t want the audience to go blind from the stage lights reflecting off of my shiny, white legs, would we?
So off I went for a spray tan.
I decided to do a dry run, so that I’d know what to expect. And also so that if it went hideously wrong and I ended up looking like an Oompa Loompa, there would be time for it to fade before the show.
After gathering some advice from my Facebook friends – the gist of which was: exfoliate, exfoliate, exfoliate! – I set out for a local tanning salon, ready for a little tropical pampering.
But, as it turns out, there’s nothing tropical about getting a spray tan.
The brown mist that came out of the nozzle and covered my skin was downright chilly. And no matter how much I moved around in the process of making sure I was getting evenly covered in goop, it didn’t get any warmer.
Then, to make it worse, I was left to stand in front of a row of fans blowing cold air onto my skin to dry me off, raising little tanned goosebumps. The only relief came when I was shut into a stand-up coffin of sorts, an upright tanning bed that set the color in a couple of minutes. Finally a little warmth, served with a side of claustrophobia.
Then it was off to get dressed.
I took a look in the mirror. It was me, but better, with a nice, golden glow. No Oompa Loompas in sight.
The technician told me that I’d get about a shade darker by the end of the day, provided that I didn’t do anything to mess up my tan.
She rattled off all the things I shouldn’t do for the next eight hours, most of which involved not getting wet – at all. No sweating, no showering, no washing dishes (hurray!), no washing your hands (boo!), no walking in the rain. And no exfoliating or shaving for a couple of days.
I did as I was told, and by the time I got ready for bed I was, indeed, a shade darker. I liked it. I looked healthier than I had that morning, and about five years younger, which is never a bad thing.
But good things don’t always last.
Twenty-four hours later, my natural pallor is already starting to reassert itself. I’m fading rapidly. My body is rejecting the spray tan.
I still have a bit of color. But not like that first day. I want my tan back and I want it back now.
I can’t wait until the day before the competition, when I can go back to the tanning salon and be nice and brown once again. I’ve already started slathering Jergen’s slow-tanning moisturizing lotion on at night, and I found myself eyeing the self-tanners at the drugstore this morning.
This must be how tanorexics are born.
I went home from practicing for Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars last night and watched the first episode of the TV show that inspired the competition.
I thought it would be fun to see how I was measuring up to those celebrities in their fancy costumes on “Dancing with the Stars.”
My assessment so far: I’m doing better than talk show host Wendy Williams, but not as well as actress Kirstie Alley or Chelsea Kane, whoever she is.
I thought Kane’s foxtrot was graceful and elegant, and Alley brought a lot of fire and personality to her cha-cha.
My mambo, on the other hand, is still looking a little rough around the edges. My major stumbling block right now is remembering the choreography. I keep hesitating, and it throws off my timing. Ranko, my wonderful and patient instructor and partner, says that sooner or later my “muscle memory” will take over and I won’t need to think about the steps any longer. Since the competition is just a few weeks away, I hope it will be sooner rather than later.
I won’t compare myself to the men, because what they have to master is so different than what the women have to learn. But I was surprised by how good actor Ralph Macchio was.
And dismayed by how well NFL star Hines Ward moved. I’m a Cleveland Browns fan, so I’m predisposed to hate everything a Pittsburg Steeler does.
I should have known this would happen.
We danced to “Los Campeones de la Salsa” in Zumba class this morning at Women’s Wellness & Fitness.
That’s the song Ranko and I are dancing to in the Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars competition.
When we chose the song, I recognized it from Zumba, but it had been so long since we’d danced to it in class that I figured it had dropped out of the rotation.
Oops!
Now I can’t get the Zumba choreography out of my head.
Cross-contamination has occurred. I need a mental hazmat suit to protect the tiny portion of my brain that actually learned Ranko’s choreography.
Oh, well. At least I have a few more days until our next practice. Maybe the Zumba moves will have faded by then.
Fingers crossed.
I keep thinking about two words that my partner Ranko said to me last night: “Death Drop.”
He’s thinking about ending our Dancing With The Forsyth County Stars performance with one.
Yikes!
When he mentioned the idea to me, I nodded blankly, if a bit hesitantly. I trust Ranko. And besides, I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.
Now I know. I spent some quality time with YouTube while eating lunch at my desk today ... and I’m nervous.
A death drop is when your partner takes you by the hands and literally drops you almost to the floor. You end up with your back parallel to the ground. Hopefully a few inches above it.
It looks scary. And I’m not sure I can do it.
I’ve always had a fear of falling. And I hate making anyone else bear my weight (a fear borne of being overweight for most of my life).
I’m not afraid of Ranko dropping me. He knows what he’s doing, and he wouldn’t put me in danger. (Not like Mario Lopez, who drops Karina Smirnoff during a death drop on one of the Dancing With the Stars videos on YouTube.)
But I’m scared anyway. It’s the kind of fear you feel at an amusement park, when your mind knows that you’re probably perfectly safe, but your heart races anyway as the roller coaster nears the top of that first big hill.
I hope I’ll be able to overcome this and give it a try. Part of the fun of this competition is pushing myself to do things I wouldn’t normally do.
And this is most definitely something I wouldn’t normally do.
Wish me luck.
I’m spying on the mayor.
Not in a creepy, crouching-in-the-bushes-with-night-vision-goggles way, though. I’m just checking out my competition.
I’m at Fred Astaire Dance Studio in Clemmons, where I just finished practicing with my partner and instructor, Ranko Bogosavac.
Mayor Allen Joines, one of the other competitors in Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars, is here, too, rehearsing with his partner, Jenny Clark.
He’s dancing the tango.
And darn it, he looks good.
To be honest, I was kind of hoping he’d be a klutz. (This is a competition, after all.)
But he’s not. His frame is strong, he’s polished and he looks confident as he moves across the floor.
He’s even doing some fancy moves, dragging Jenny expertly across the floor and executing some sharp kicks.
He’s not even sweating.
I’m going to have to step up my game.
And find a better anti-perspirant.
The date of the Dancing With the Forsyth County Stars competition has been pushed back by two weeks.
I’m not sure yet whether that’s a good thing or not.
I’m definitely glad to have more time to practice.
But I’m worried having two ballroom-dancing competitions back to back.
Take the Lead, a fundraiser for the Bethesda Center for the Homeless, will be held April 7 at the Benton Convention Center. It follows the same basic format as Dancing With the Forsyth County Stars – pairing community leaders with professional dancers and letting them cha-cha it out on the dance floor. It will feature Donny Lambeth of Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center and City Councilman Derwin Montgomery, among others.
Dancing with the Forsyth County Stars, a benefit for Communities in Schools, will be held on April 9 at the Millennium Center. That’s the one I’m competing in, along with Mayor Allen Joines, State Rep. Earline Parmon and others.
Both events are likely to draw from the same audience pool. But I wonder how much of an appetite there will be among that audience for two ballroom competitions within the same week.
I hope people will come out to both competitions anyway, even if the timing isn’t ideal.
The Bethesda Center and Communities in Schools are both worthy causes, and the competitors and their professional partners are all working hard to raise money for them.
It would be a shame to see either’s fundraising efforts fall short because of a scheduling snafu.
I’ll certainly be at both events. Hope to see you there, too.
Susan Gilmor and her teacher and partner, Ranko Bogosavac, run through some mambo steps at Fred Astaire Dance Studio in Clemmons during their third rehearsal together.
Ranko Bogosavac teachers Susan Gilmor some fancy footwork for the mambo routine that they’ll perform March 26 at Dancing With the Forsyth County Stars.
