A trip to the MET

Another year without you. Miss you, Rose. 

Happy Birthday, Rose. You are missed. xx

Wow...when I come onto this site, I'm just blown away by the range of people who have responded--from one of my heroes in graduate school and loved ones who have never met my Mom in this life, to so many of You who knew her more intimately in so many shapes and forms and ways and days. As many of you know, I'm an "only child" with a very small biological family, but I feel a profound sense of *family* when I scroll through these pages and see all of your words and images. I hope my silence these last few years (which sometimes feels more like days and weeks) doesn't get misunderstood.  It's frankly been a bit rough...but I'm thinking of you all so much, and I'm so very grateful to all of you.  I hope we can continue the dance. <3 

I can’t believe it’s been 3 years already. I love you and miss you like crazy. Love to Sonya and all ❤️

Another year, never forgotten. Sending love to Sonia today and always. Tami

Dear Rose,

You know Isabella took off her pointe shoes almost 10 years ago and went modern for college and her dance career. When I get to go to her performances I always see the ballerina you trained underneath and at the core. She usually does some teaching on the side but last week she called to tell me she's filling in for awhile teaching an advanced pointe class. She had so much to say with a flood of memories about you and WBC classes as she is getting to know these teenage girls; how everything she ever learned from you is coming right back, and how seriously she takes her responsibility to teach them well. Through this process and as a full grown adult now, it is so clear to her that her training with you was exceptional, and that time spent was a great gift. I know she is honored to be passing it forward. And for the record, I miss you and WBC days too. 

Happy Birthday in dance heaven xo

Remembering my dear friend, Rose, on this 2nd anniversary.  Sending love to all who check in here. 

Dear Sonya,Anniversaries are very hard.  I remember the early ones of my mother very well.  I am sending you my love, great admiration, and deepest condolences.Elaine

One year...never forgotten

When I was six years old, my parents took me to see Rose-Marie Menes dance in Swan Lake at George Mellinoff Ballet School’s outdoor amphitheater in Miami, Florida. We went at the invitation of her parents, David and Ruth Menes, to see their then 10-year-old daughter dance. Already a dance protégé, they were so very proud of her.  I have never forgotten that evening. It was the start of my life-long love of ballet and a particular attachment to Swan Lake. Back then I wanted to “be” Rose-Marie. I began classes with Mr. Mellinoff and even started hyphenating my same name, Rose Marie, like she did. But I did not have her amazing talent or work ethic, and sadly stopped taking classes. As the years went on, we loved hearing about her life at Ballet Russe from her mother, Ruth, and her sister Virginia until we lost touch with them around the mid 60’s. Thank you, Rose-Marie, for sparking my love of ballet that I passed on to my daughters and granddaughters.  I will always see you in your stunning grand jete!

My deepest, most heartfelt condolences. I adored Rose, as much as she adored me. I didn't, "walk out." She remains within my heart and soul for all of her special attention and generosity given. I appreciated every moment that I had with her.

The first time I met Rose was when I registered my daughter  in Ballet class at the studio. It was either 1983 or 1984. My husband & I felt so comfortable with both your parents. The studio became a second home for Mary for the next 10 years.  I remember the wonderful parties at your home.  A friendship was formed &I look back fondly at the times we went  out to dinner together with your folks, also  to Lincoln Center to the Ballet.  They were great times. Your Mother was a beautiful talented woman who gave so much to so many.  Love 💕 & prayers to you & your Dad.

I spent my entire childhood dancing. It was every day, every week, and everywhere. More classes, new classes, leading classes, partnering, getting to the studio way too early before shows, and all of the “sorry, I can’t, I have rehearsal” replies. Its funny how over time, this all seems like a distant memory and perhaps a different life. Years have gone by with my busy schedule/travel and I always thought there would be another chance to stop by the studio, say hello to Rose, and catch up. Time certainly is fleeting. I was never really meant to be a dancer but Rose helped dance have a different meaning for me. Though my life is on a separate path, Rose’s teachings and love of dance is still with me to this day. I feel it every Christmas with vivid memories from any Nutcracker song I hear. When I catch myself having bad posture and straightening up at work. Finding myself in the audience of a show where one of her students is thriving as a professional ballerina. Or hearing from an old dance friend years later, where bonds could not have been forged any stronger than through the fun and pressure of dance. Rose definitely continues to be a huge part of the person I am today. I wish Sonia, Bernie, and everyone else the reminder of dedication and grace she has instilled into our lives, which is where her spirit will continue to live for all the days to come.

My Mother’s birthday this week was admittedly a hard day for me--especially because I had to teach, but when I was walking to campus, I kept thinking about my Mom’s favorite musical, Gypsy, and the song “Everything’s Coming Up Roses.” I played this song during this weekend’s celebration of her life, and some of you might know that several years ago, my Mom asked me to make it her cellphone ring. (She had trouble hearing the excerpt from Swan Lake, which was her initial request.)  To be honest, I think that her Gypsy ring might have driven us all a little crazy at times…If you didn't experience it yourself, just try to imagine “Everything’s Coming up Roses” playing on repeat *and* as loudly as possible, while she was somewhere in another room. That said, whenever I heard the song, it never ceased to make me smile-- and it still does--so I thought I would share it with all of you:

https://www.youtube.com/watch…

Incidentally, when I met with some students after my class on Monday, one of them mentioned a volume of poetry by Alice Walker that I wasn't familiar with, but the title alone seemed to be a  gift. It's called Hard Times Require Furious Dancing, and I think that my Mom would definitely agree. 

Thank you all again for contributing to this site. While I have yet to respond to all of you, your images and stories continue to bring me joy, and I hope they do the same for you.

More soon & much love,

Sonia 

Unfortunately I could not make it on Saturday since I am currently still in the Netherlands, but I wrote a text anyway that I would have loved to read. Alissa suggested I post it here instead:

Returning to the studio at WBC always felt like coming home, even when that is where I just came from. Walking up the stairs at the YCCC, already hearing music or laughter spilling from the door with the WBC sign above it always brought a smile and a sense of happiness. There was something comforting about walking into the studio with the pink walls, something familiar about the dust that settled in the corners and between the floorboards, and even something endearing about that single nail sticking out of the dance floor in the big studio that everybody learned to avoid very quickly. But most of all, it was Rose, either sitting at her desk welcoming you as you walked in, music spilling over from the big studio, a wave alongside a greeting that was often drowned out by the noise of the adjacent class. Rose’s desk always seemed like an organized mess, with random bags that held various items and fabrics placed below or next to it. Her desk was an eclectic culmination of memories and utility, but Rose kept her overview of it all, just like she knew all of the dancers milling around her studio.

And when she was not sitting at her desk, Rose was teaching.

Her classes were just as comforting as the atmosphere in the studio: hearing the barre and center music we can all probably sing from memory, listening to her corrections that often made all the difference in a step all while she stood in the corner by the door in her black pants and shirt, a safety pin holding even more, smaller safety pins attached to her blouse. You could tell Rose loved teaching, even during the more frustrating moments. Whenever she gave a correction, there was wisdom behind it. Whenever she stopped the music to tell a story there was a lesson. And whenever we had to do 32 changements randomly, she had probably caught someone yawning!

She also loved very fiercely, as if we were part of her own family. I guess in a way we were, a family made up of dancers and teachers and parents all coming together at Westchester Ballet Center for our love of dance. If it wasn’t her hugs, it was the “I thought of you when I saw this,” or the, ‘do it again’s, even when those did not always feel comforting at the time. But Rose knew better and even when she was tough on us, she acted from a place of love and trust, knowing that we could do more and be more. She created a home away from home and passed on not just her ballet knowledge, but also instilled confidence, leadership, and perseverance in so many of the people she met. Rose believed in us when we did not, she supported and encouraged us when we were struggling, and she rewarded us with opportunities when she could tell we were working hard for them.

Losing Rose has left a hole in my heart that I am not sure will heal for a while. She was a mentor, a teacher, and a friend, and she created a home, an escape, and a family at WBC that I am so grateful to be a part of. There was never a time when I did not want to go to dance because I knew WBC was where I could forget the world and just be lost in movement and the moment.

I miss you Rose. I know we all do, and I loved you so very much. You have done so much for so many people over the years, so rest easy and peacefully and know that none of us will ever forget to point our toes or stretch our arms, because we will always have your voice with us to remind us to do so. And to remind us to keep on dancing, to be confident in ourselves, and to be our best versions just as you knew we could be. Thank you for everything.

Dear Rose, I will celebrate your birthday with a dance and a toast to so many happy memories to ease the sadness. I know you would be angry at us for wallowing in sadness and grief. You always said "ya gotta get up and get out there" to be a professional. Your spirit will stay with all who knew you. Much love and cheers!

TOASTING ROSE TODAY, HER BIRTHDAY.  I will miss our birthday talk.

One evening in the studio office Rose was ‘advising’ a new mom and potential student to sign up for several classes. The mom was hesitant, but Rose pressed on, “I know what I’m talking about”. The advanced class emptied out just then, elegant young ballerinas released and tumbling into the freedom of young girl chatter. Rose spotted my daughter who still had her pointe shoes on and commanded: “Bella! Relevé !” Up she went and Rose gestured with a flourish, “See those legs? I made those legs!”

That was over a decade ago. I do remember being a bit shocked, was she really taking credit for building my daughter? Ha! Rose well knows, as I have since told her so often over the years, yes, she does get credit for the legs, and for much more. I knew nothing of dance, it seemed a good activity for my 4 year old. When Lucia moved on to sports, I told Bella we were not signing up again; a single working mom can’t be in 2 places at once. Bella’s solution: “Well, just leave me here then.”

And I did. Because it was with Rose. I could see this feisty, elegant, beautifully smart, tenacious woman was among the very best. A rare find I stumbled onto, or perhaps a little nudge from God’s hand landed us at WBC with Rose. And so Isabella began to “live” at the studio.

Like dozens and dozens of girls (is it hundreds?), years of training with Rose elevated how Isabella stands, literally and figuratively, in the world. How grateful I am that my daughter has developed strength and grace with which to navigate life’s challenges. Rose held high all the values this mother could want to pass on to a daughter: to strive for excellence while allowing for mistakes and corrections, to hold one’s self in both high esteem and with humility, to know and grow family past blood and through the threads of shared experience, to be a teacher with passion, to love art and music and performance, to relish food and shared meals with laughter, to know NYC, to be brave even when scared, to be fearless on a stage.

Thank you, Rose.

Sonia, the sorrow we feel for your loss runs deep. But so does the spirit of your mother, so graciously shared all your life with so many. Thank you for being a beacon for all the girls who are bereft at this time, I trust the love Rose had for them comes full circle and is a comfort to you.

In sympathy,  MariaB

Dying Swan, Isabella Bergamin

Isabella rehearsing for Rose — with Isabella Bergamin