A tragic story. There are so many tragic stories. I've got a box full. They're not all mine, but I carry them for myself and for the others whose lives I'm connected to. The stories of my ancestors, the people closest to me, my neighbors and acquaintances. I carry those stories within me, but none weigh as much as my own. I carry them as a way to pay honor to the people who've endured. Thank you for this essay, Rona. Beautiful and wise as always.
Nan, your comment about carrying the stories of others has added a whole new dimension to this topic. I think you and I talked briefly about the ancestral stories never or only glancingly spoken by those compelled to live them. Honoring through the act of carrying is a way of saying "Here I am." Hineni.
My, my, you are a quiet bunch today. Many are sharing this post, very few are chiming in. John Callahan, the quadriplegic/alcoholic cartoonist and author of the memoir DON’T WORRY, HE WON’T GET FAR ON FOOT, was bitterly funny on the subject of inspiration. He offended many but his work appealed to my black sense of humor. One of his most famous cartoons appears in this article. If you find it offensive, you have been warned. If it makes you laugh, don’t miss his book.https://ability360.org/livability/callahan-and-me/
Thanks Rona for both the essay and the questions; they fit together so well.
To the extent I have had traumatic incidents, the ability to give then context helps soften them. And I believe that context comes with the perspective of age and with the introspection that is one of the gifts of writing.
As to role models, i don't think it's at all an impossible burden for private, non-famous people. Thinking of myself as a role model makes me a better person. But for someone like Michaela who carried the burden of so many hopes and dreams and at such a young age it may have been impossible.
Thank you, David. At 29 I certainly wasn't capable of carrying my heavy bundle--but then again, I was nobody's role model. We'll probably never know what happened to Michaela. At her age it takes so little to push someone off the path.
I consider myself lucky, Maryann. As was Michaela, to escape Sierra Leone and find a loving home with parents who believed with her. Neither love nor luck can right every wrong.
Beautiful & heartbreaking. It seems inevitable that we as humans dive into story wanting to pick it apart, examine it, find or create meaning within it. What lessons can we learn? What elements does the story tell us to avoid, or embrace? Why did it happen the way it happened? Will that happen to me, to someone I love. Always and endlessly looking for completion, the last puzzle piece to a puzzle larger than we can ever solve. The puzzle is shape shifting and ever changing just like life itself, just like our lives every single day, breath by breath. We are one circumstance away from a whole range of possibilities. We never know, yet we want to know. I remember when my parents died. My brothers and I knew the mechanics of what happened, but our brains, our hearts & souls methodically went over the details again and again and again. Eventually we laid our weary minds to rest, many days, many weeks & months, perhaps even years after their deaths. I think that we never "overcome" anything, I think it is more accurate to say if we live long enough the trauma, or loss, or other suffering becomes ever more incorporated into ourselves, our deepest being, it no longer is the largest thing on our minds or in our hearts, it shifts to a smaller space as we add infinite other experiences and memories. As for anyone but ourself, we may never know for certain what anyone else actually experiences, we may never know the exact "why" of what happened in someone else's life, and we may never fully understand another's experience since everything we experience and contemplate is through the prism of our own unique experiences. Reading about Michaela leaves me feeling deeply sad for the loss of someone who appeared to be and was, at least to others, so brilliant. And I'm left even sadder for Michaela to no longer be on this earth as she was, the tender child who for whatever reason, for whatever her "why" was, we will never truly know. I ache for her broken heart and the suffering to which she was subjected. When will we ever learn to actually be better. We know better, when will we do better? I'm so very sad and yet, also grateful to know of her and to have read your beautiful writing today. It reminds me to love out loud, be better, be kinder, now, and all the nows to come. So often and perhaps always we cannot know the "whys" but we can certainly be "the rainbow" in someone else's life, as Maya Angelous so beautifully wrote. Thank you Rona, for all your loving out loud on the page.
"Loving out loud." I am honored, Karen. What this young woman awakened in me was indeed love for all the beauty and longing and possibility she embodied.
Rona, how sad is the death of this talented young woman. I'm a ballet fan but over here in Tokyo I'd missed this news.
You mention Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Sea Maid. A few weeks ago, I went to see a new ballet by the National Ballet of Japan based on that story. I'd gone along hoping to see my favourite ballerina, Yui Yonezawa, dance the main role, only to find out at the theatre that, due to a heart problem, she wouldn't be dancing. I don't know if she'll dance again. Somehow, Michaela's tragic story and the Little Sea Maid and Yui San's stories all came together in my mind while reading your wonderful essay.
I don't have any answer to your questions. But I know we need to keep carrying the stories of others forward, as you have.
Thank you , Rona, for this story. I must admit I was not familiar with the story of Michaela DePrince, but the sadness lingers with me after reading her story. Being an only child, I took it upon myself, never encouraged openly by my parents, to achieve and be brave, whatever the terms seem to imply. I have always done this and never allowed myself to openly admit I couldn't deal with the things life throws at us. Sadly, my children think I can deal with EVERYTHING and in their eyes, I have. I have not taught them that being vulnerable is a valid place to be in life and their reactions to that emotion can lead to growth and love. I find at the ripe old age of 85 I am now trying to let my adult children know that there are many things in life I cannot control as well as many emotions that are the direct result of the aforementioned. I am really a work in progress!
If it's okay for you to see things slip out of your control, it's okay for your children to stand in the same bewilderment and frustration. You're setting a good example. It's never too late to walk away (I nearly said "overcome") from the teachings of childhood.
Rona, thank you for these beautiful words. I’m so saddened to learn about Michaela DePrince’s death. Heartbreaking. I first learned about her after watching “First Position” and was mesmerized by her grace. Being a former ballet dancer myself, I have a tiny glimpse into what one’s mind/body/spirit must endure for that life onstage—all while making your every movement appear effortless.
Dancing was always my go-to for helping me “carry” till I was too injured and ill to continue. I felt most like myself in the studio and onstage. I’ve since turned to writing, and while it’s not quite the same, I find a similar kind of beauty as I move words around on a page. A choreography of its own. ❤️
I’m glad the comments issue was resolved! This piece deserves much praise and discussion.
Resolved thanks to your alert, Erika. You mentioned injury, a potentially career-ending hazard to every dancer. Michaela had recovered from a bad one and left her last company, the Boston Ballet, earlier this year. I had to wonder if injury played any part in the last, saddest chapter of her story. On a brighter note, writers don't even have to be mobile to tell their stories. You're in a better place.
When I tried to comment this morning, Rona, it said paid subscribers only. I restacked with a note. Now the comments are open, thank you! As I said on Notes, I remember Michaela from the First Position documentary and was so sad to read that she's died. I've kept the tab open for the short story you linked to so I can read it later. Thank you for the pointer.
Rona, you’ve told us so many wonderful stories in your posts. This one moved me more than any of them. I have known many dancers over the years. All faced the same physical challenges and pain, but they “aged out” of dancing and moved on to success in other fields. I always believed that this was due partly to a lack of seriousness about their art, or pragmatism, or societal pressure. But who was I to judge? Maybe they were lucky.
I wanted to dance. At age seven, I had a teacher who begged my parents - yes, begged - to let me continue studying with her. What my parents didn’t know was that she screamed at her students, that I was terrified to the point of throwing up after each class or recital. Still, I loved the story of the Little Sea Maid and the choice she made between giving up one gift - her voice - for another, dance. Maybe my experience allowed me to make a different choice, to become a writer.
Michaela’s story is extraordinary in every way. I feel a need to sit with it, and honor her, on this perfect October day. I will also be thinking of your story, Rona, and mine, and of the things we all carry but never “overcome.”
You tell this story beautifully, Rona. I can’t remember when or how I became aware of Michaela’s story. Like you, I felt powerfully impressed, so it was a shock to hear of her death. Your article is just what I needed to mourn this beautiful young woman whom I never knew except at a far distance. I hope her short life revolutionizes ballet, and that a generation of girls of every hue of fairy dust pushes to the sky in her honor.
A couple of weeks ago I heard a story on NPR about this beautiful ballerina. Her brother and sister were sharing their memories of her. If I’m not mistaken, their mother died the same day. Such overwhelming loss 😥
I must find that, Amy. Their mother died the next day, and the other siblings chose not to share the news about Michaela because Elaine was very ill and had lost other children.
Hi Rona, I may answer your question (s) in a bit but wanted to know more about this remarkably sad story. I did find this after Googling:
from Hello online, "The mother of trailblazing ballerina Michaela DePrince has passed away, one day after her 29-year-old daughter's sudden death last Tuesday.
A spokesperson for the family, Jess Volinski, shared a heartbreaking statement on their behalf, explaining that Elaine DePrince, Michaela's adoptive mother, died on 11 September, during a routine procedure in preparation for surgery, and was unaware of her daughter's death at the time."
Rona—your words and sentences are so powerful, so true and wonderfully rendered. I don’t believe her death was about being a ballerina though I could be wrong. That’s what some of us relate to because she was in our world as a ballerina. The world she left behind in Africa lived inside of her and without a guide to help her somehow navigate some consciousness of that pain, I think she could not manage. It was only 4 years or so, but in that time what she experienced would put anyone under so to speak, as they navigated the growth toward adulthood. I’ve not read her autobiography but I’m sure the clues were there. Maybe because her smile was so bright, it dazzled people and no one looked for how to support that young baby/child living still inside her Love your writing! This is my second comment in your substack.
I recognize your name, Carol. Thank you. Supporting someone with a burden like hers is a monumental challenge, especially when she appears so resilient.
Thanks for this thoughtful, heartfelt tribute, Rona. Stories like Michaela DePrince's are what led me to write an article for Kaiser Health News last year about including suicide as a cause of death in obituaries. Whenever I read about a young person who has died and there is no cause of death, especially if that person is particularly accomplished, I always wonder, "Was it suicide?" Maybe that makes me sound ghoulish but the context is that my dad died that way when I was 13 and I was told it was an accident. Having the truth kept from me until I was in my early twenties had lifelong ramifications, most of them bad. We don't know how or why Michaela died. And I understand why families want to keep suicide out of an obituary, but to me, it only promotes the shame and the stigma that complicate the grief that is already complicated for anyone who has lost a loved one to suicide.
Who would not think of suicide or a drug overdose, which is essentially the same thing? Thank you for bringing your open heart to this thread and restacking my essay.
I thought of the Tim O'Brien story as soon as I saw your title. I've taught it many times, read from it to my classes. I'm always moved as I read. To answer your question, you answered it:
"I have given keynote speeches about “overcoming” depression. The wording changed when it dawned on me that no one “overcomes” anything. Like you, like us all, I carry my whole life, both the wonder and the weight."
Rona, and If I didn't happen to find anything new in the text, teaching it anew to each new set of young hearts and minds was its own reward. Aside from how little almost all of them, in contemporary America, understood or had ever needed to think about the experience of war, what the story conveys about comradeship and fear and longing and guilt was always a minor education in itself. Everything reading should be.
I've been pondering Michaela's story and trajectory since reading about her far-too-early death, and I keep wondering why humans are so brutal to one another. I don't know about overcoming. But thank you for articulating all of this so well and for linking her story to those losses we all carry, the Jack Gilbert poem and The Things They Carried. I heard Tim O'Brien read the title story at Sewanee Writers Conference years ago, and hearing it out loud that night made it new again.
A tragic story. There are so many tragic stories. I've got a box full. They're not all mine, but I carry them for myself and for the others whose lives I'm connected to. The stories of my ancestors, the people closest to me, my neighbors and acquaintances. I carry those stories within me, but none weigh as much as my own. I carry them as a way to pay honor to the people who've endured. Thank you for this essay, Rona. Beautiful and wise as always.
Nan, your comment about carrying the stories of others has added a whole new dimension to this topic. I think you and I talked briefly about the ancestral stories never or only glancingly spoken by those compelled to live them. Honoring through the act of carrying is a way of saying "Here I am." Hineni.
Indeed it is. xoxo
My, my, you are a quiet bunch today. Many are sharing this post, very few are chiming in. John Callahan, the quadriplegic/alcoholic cartoonist and author of the memoir DON’T WORRY, HE WON’T GET FAR ON FOOT, was bitterly funny on the subject of inspiration. He offended many but his work appealed to my black sense of humor. One of his most famous cartoons appears in this article. If you find it offensive, you have been warned. If it makes you laugh, don’t miss his book.https://ability360.org/livability/callahan-and-me/
Thanks Rona for both the essay and the questions; they fit together so well.
To the extent I have had traumatic incidents, the ability to give then context helps soften them. And I believe that context comes with the perspective of age and with the introspection that is one of the gifts of writing.
As to role models, i don't think it's at all an impossible burden for private, non-famous people. Thinking of myself as a role model makes me a better person. But for someone like Michaela who carried the burden of so many hopes and dreams and at such a young age it may have been impossible.
Thank you, David. At 29 I certainly wasn't capable of carrying my heavy bundle--but then again, I was nobody's role model. We'll probably never know what happened to Michaela. At her age it takes so little to push someone off the path.
We never overcome. We just get better at balancing the load… if we are lucky enough. Thank you for this beautiful piece Rona
I consider myself lucky, Maryann. As was Michaela, to escape Sierra Leone and find a loving home with parents who believed with her. Neither love nor luck can right every wrong.
Beautiful & heartbreaking. It seems inevitable that we as humans dive into story wanting to pick it apart, examine it, find or create meaning within it. What lessons can we learn? What elements does the story tell us to avoid, or embrace? Why did it happen the way it happened? Will that happen to me, to someone I love. Always and endlessly looking for completion, the last puzzle piece to a puzzle larger than we can ever solve. The puzzle is shape shifting and ever changing just like life itself, just like our lives every single day, breath by breath. We are one circumstance away from a whole range of possibilities. We never know, yet we want to know. I remember when my parents died. My brothers and I knew the mechanics of what happened, but our brains, our hearts & souls methodically went over the details again and again and again. Eventually we laid our weary minds to rest, many days, many weeks & months, perhaps even years after their deaths. I think that we never "overcome" anything, I think it is more accurate to say if we live long enough the trauma, or loss, or other suffering becomes ever more incorporated into ourselves, our deepest being, it no longer is the largest thing on our minds or in our hearts, it shifts to a smaller space as we add infinite other experiences and memories. As for anyone but ourself, we may never know for certain what anyone else actually experiences, we may never know the exact "why" of what happened in someone else's life, and we may never fully understand another's experience since everything we experience and contemplate is through the prism of our own unique experiences. Reading about Michaela leaves me feeling deeply sad for the loss of someone who appeared to be and was, at least to others, so brilliant. And I'm left even sadder for Michaela to no longer be on this earth as she was, the tender child who for whatever reason, for whatever her "why" was, we will never truly know. I ache for her broken heart and the suffering to which she was subjected. When will we ever learn to actually be better. We know better, when will we do better? I'm so very sad and yet, also grateful to know of her and to have read your beautiful writing today. It reminds me to love out loud, be better, be kinder, now, and all the nows to come. So often and perhaps always we cannot know the "whys" but we can certainly be "the rainbow" in someone else's life, as Maya Angelous so beautifully wrote. Thank you Rona, for all your loving out loud on the page.
"Loving out loud." I am honored, Karen. What this young woman awakened in me was indeed love for all the beauty and longing and possibility she embodied.
Rona, how sad is the death of this talented young woman. I'm a ballet fan but over here in Tokyo I'd missed this news.
You mention Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Sea Maid. A few weeks ago, I went to see a new ballet by the National Ballet of Japan based on that story. I'd gone along hoping to see my favourite ballerina, Yui Yonezawa, dance the main role, only to find out at the theatre that, due to a heart problem, she wouldn't be dancing. I don't know if she'll dance again. Somehow, Michaela's tragic story and the Little Sea Maid and Yui San's stories all came together in my mind while reading your wonderful essay.
I don't have any answer to your questions. But I know we need to keep carrying the stories of others forward, as you have.
Dancers have short careers under the best circumstances. We writers don’t even have to stay mobile. Thanks, Jeffrey.
Thank you , Rona, for this story. I must admit I was not familiar with the story of Michaela DePrince, but the sadness lingers with me after reading her story. Being an only child, I took it upon myself, never encouraged openly by my parents, to achieve and be brave, whatever the terms seem to imply. I have always done this and never allowed myself to openly admit I couldn't deal with the things life throws at us. Sadly, my children think I can deal with EVERYTHING and in their eyes, I have. I have not taught them that being vulnerable is a valid place to be in life and their reactions to that emotion can lead to growth and love. I find at the ripe old age of 85 I am now trying to let my adult children know that there are many things in life I cannot control as well as many emotions that are the direct result of the aforementioned. I am really a work in progress!
If it's okay for you to see things slip out of your control, it's okay for your children to stand in the same bewilderment and frustration. You're setting a good example. It's never too late to walk away (I nearly said "overcome") from the teachings of childhood.
Rona, thank you for these beautiful words. I’m so saddened to learn about Michaela DePrince’s death. Heartbreaking. I first learned about her after watching “First Position” and was mesmerized by her grace. Being a former ballet dancer myself, I have a tiny glimpse into what one’s mind/body/spirit must endure for that life onstage—all while making your every movement appear effortless.
Dancing was always my go-to for helping me “carry” till I was too injured and ill to continue. I felt most like myself in the studio and onstage. I’ve since turned to writing, and while it’s not quite the same, I find a similar kind of beauty as I move words around on a page. A choreography of its own. ❤️
I’m glad the comments issue was resolved! This piece deserves much praise and discussion.
Resolved thanks to your alert, Erika. You mentioned injury, a potentially career-ending hazard to every dancer. Michaela had recovered from a bad one and left her last company, the Boston Ballet, earlier this year. I had to wonder if injury played any part in the last, saddest chapter of her story. On a brighter note, writers don't even have to be mobile to tell their stories. You're in a better place.
When I tried to comment this morning, Rona, it said paid subscribers only. I restacked with a note. Now the comments are open, thank you! As I said on Notes, I remember Michaela from the First Position documentary and was so sad to read that she's died. I've kept the tab open for the short story you linked to so I can read it later. Thank you for the pointer.
Thank you for returning to comment, Wendy. The story is one-of-a-kind, but not to be read at bedtime.
Rona, you’ve told us so many wonderful stories in your posts. This one moved me more than any of them. I have known many dancers over the years. All faced the same physical challenges and pain, but they “aged out” of dancing and moved on to success in other fields. I always believed that this was due partly to a lack of seriousness about their art, or pragmatism, or societal pressure. But who was I to judge? Maybe they were lucky.
I wanted to dance. At age seven, I had a teacher who begged my parents - yes, begged - to let me continue studying with her. What my parents didn’t know was that she screamed at her students, that I was terrified to the point of throwing up after each class or recital. Still, I loved the story of the Little Sea Maid and the choice she made between giving up one gift - her voice - for another, dance. Maybe my experience allowed me to make a different choice, to become a writer.
Michaela’s story is extraordinary in every way. I feel a need to sit with it, and honor her, on this perfect October day. I will also be thinking of your story, Rona, and mine, and of the things we all carry but never “overcome.”
Mary, I am so touched by this story and our continuing virtual connection. Thank you.
We’ll have to get together again. It was lovely to meet you in person.
Bittersweet story. Thank you!
I don’t think anything is truly overcome-able, we just learn to cope well(ish).
This is what I tell myself when someone annoys me, often a stranger. Everyone is carrying something.
You tell this story beautifully, Rona. I can’t remember when or how I became aware of Michaela’s story. Like you, I felt powerfully impressed, so it was a shock to hear of her death. Your article is just what I needed to mourn this beautiful young woman whom I never knew except at a far distance. I hope her short life revolutionizes ballet, and that a generation of girls of every hue of fairy dust pushes to the sky in her honor.
How beautifully expressed, Tara. Thank you.
A couple of weeks ago I heard a story on NPR about this beautiful ballerina. Her brother and sister were sharing their memories of her. If I’m not mistaken, their mother died the same day. Such overwhelming loss 😥
I must find that, Amy. Their mother died the next day, and the other siblings chose not to share the news about Michaela because Elaine was very ill and had lost other children.
Hi Rona, I may answer your question (s) in a bit but wanted to know more about this remarkably sad story. I did find this after Googling:
from Hello online, "The mother of trailblazing ballerina Michaela DePrince has passed away, one day after her 29-year-old daughter's sudden death last Tuesday.
A spokesperson for the family, Jess Volinski, shared a heartbreaking statement on their behalf, explaining that Elaine DePrince, Michaela's adoptive mother, died on 11 September, during a routine procedure in preparation for surgery, and was unaware of her daughter's death at the time."
https://www.hellomagazine.com/celebrities/718654/michaela-de-prince-mother-elaine-dies/
Thank you for this, Jody.
Rona—your words and sentences are so powerful, so true and wonderfully rendered. I don’t believe her death was about being a ballerina though I could be wrong. That’s what some of us relate to because she was in our world as a ballerina. The world she left behind in Africa lived inside of her and without a guide to help her somehow navigate some consciousness of that pain, I think she could not manage. It was only 4 years or so, but in that time what she experienced would put anyone under so to speak, as they navigated the growth toward adulthood. I’ve not read her autobiography but I’m sure the clues were there. Maybe because her smile was so bright, it dazzled people and no one looked for how to support that young baby/child living still inside her Love your writing! This is my second comment in your substack.
I recognize your name, Carol. Thank you. Supporting someone with a burden like hers is a monumental challenge, especially when she appears so resilient.
Thanks for this thoughtful, heartfelt tribute, Rona. Stories like Michaela DePrince's are what led me to write an article for Kaiser Health News last year about including suicide as a cause of death in obituaries. Whenever I read about a young person who has died and there is no cause of death, especially if that person is particularly accomplished, I always wonder, "Was it suicide?" Maybe that makes me sound ghoulish but the context is that my dad died that way when I was 13 and I was told it was an accident. Having the truth kept from me until I was in my early twenties had lifelong ramifications, most of them bad. We don't know how or why Michaela died. And I understand why families want to keep suicide out of an obituary, but to me, it only promotes the shame and the stigma that complicate the grief that is already complicated for anyone who has lost a loved one to suicide.
Who would not think of suicide or a drug overdose, which is essentially the same thing? Thank you for bringing your open heart to this thread and restacking my essay.
I thought of the Tim O'Brien story as soon as I saw your title. I've taught it many times, read from it to my classes. I'm always moved as I read. To answer your question, you answered it:
"I have given keynote speeches about “overcoming” depression. The wording changed when it dawned on me that no one “overcomes” anything. Like you, like us all, I carry my whole life, both the wonder and the weight."
Jay, it must have been thrilling to teach that story and find something new in it with every class.
Rona, and If I didn't happen to find anything new in the text, teaching it anew to each new set of young hearts and minds was its own reward. Aside from how little almost all of them, in contemporary America, understood or had ever needed to think about the experience of war, what the story conveys about comradeship and fear and longing and guilt was always a minor education in itself. Everything reading should be.
I've been pondering Michaela's story and trajectory since reading about her far-too-early death, and I keep wondering why humans are so brutal to one another. I don't know about overcoming. But thank you for articulating all of this so well and for linking her story to those losses we all carry, the Jack Gilbert poem and The Things They Carried. I heard Tim O'Brien read the title story at Sewanee Writers Conference years ago, and hearing it out loud that night made it new again.
Oh, how I wish I could hear him read that story. Perhaps he reads it online somewhere. The cadences are so harrowingly gorgeous.
They really are. It is such a striking story.