A Shining Star - Remembering Judy Moore

Last week I made the 5 hour drive to Brownwood for Thanksgiving so that I could be with my wonderful family. I had planned to drive home on Wednesday, but the loss of a dear friend sent me home on Tuesday, so that I could be present to say goodbye. Judy Moore touched hundreds of lives in Brownwood, mine included. I took dance from her for nearly 13 years, but she was so much more than a teacher. Before we could gather with family to give thanks, we needed to gather to say goodbye to one we loved so much, and give thanks for her life and her influence in our lives. I could type for days about all I learned from Mrs. Moore; I’ve tried to highlight the things I have held most dear to give you an idea of what she meant to me.

                Discipline is an important part of life. A necessary, vital part. We all wore pink tights and black leotards for lessons. I wish I had a picture of those outfits but I don’t. You were expected to be on time and work hard. We had a lot of fun – a whole lot of fun. But just like in Ecclesiastes, there was a time to laugh, and there was a time to dance. Through learning to remain disciplined, we learned success and near perfection, grace, and confidence. And we also learned that sometimes, the time to dance coincides with the time to laugh.  We respected Mrs. Moore, as evidenced by the fact that most of us still, even as adults, refer to her as Mrs. Moore. It wasn’t because she was stiff or unconnected with us, it was just respectful. Every day when we left she hugged us and gave us a lemon drop, even if we hadn’t been as productive that day as we should have been. She loved us. She loved watching us dance. She wanted us to be proud of ourselves, and she taught us that those who work hard will see the fruits of their labor. Grace, poise, discipline, and practice will take you far in every aspect of life, not just on the stage. And I think someone once said, “All of life’s a stage” anyway, didn’t they?

              Mrs. Moore believed in rewarding your milestones. Sticking with it was important to her. Each student got a present based on longevity. The biggie was the flowers on your 4^th year (picture below). Your dad would present them to you and it was after the show. Super. Big. Deal. I honestly am not sure I have ever been as proud as I was in that picture. After 4^th year you got jewelry. Necklaces that you could add a new gold bead to each year. I still have my necklace. Mrs. Moore taught me to hang in there, and that continuing to show up is worth everything. 

               You sound better when you work together. I can’t tell you how many times she and Terry, her daughter, would tap together so that we could hear what it was supposed to sound like. One person, not 14 little girls tapping to their own beat. There was always a time for your own beat, but in most situations, working together as a group makes a better performance. 

            The show must go on. I wish I had a picture of Mrs. Moore in the wings at the recital doing every step of every dance (and there were lots of them) and cuing us when to go, when to smile, when to leave the stage. She was the ultimate professional and she knew how to put on a recital. It was more than just little girls doing their dances, it was a first class production. She reminds me now of one of my favorite sayings, “No matter how you feel, get up, dress up, and show up.” In life as well, not just in dance, the show must go on. I was lucky to have someone to teach me that, and to know that she had my back if I forgot the steps. We learned to be comfortable in front of a crowd, to smile even when you mess up, stay on your toes, and never stop dancing.

           

               Make everyone feel important. She gave us lemon drops at the end of every lesson. She loved a good song. I used to bring in new music for her and she would always listen, find the beat, tap it with her toes, and count out the 8’s. She loved the oldies but was open to the new stuff too. She made us feel special, like we mattered to her. She honored our opinions when we ordered costumes. Someone said on facebook that they could still remember the giddy feeling of pulling out the costume magazines. I remember that well. There was no dancing that day. We all sat in the floor around Mrs. Moore and picked out what we liked. Putting on those costumes was like being the beauty pageant winner. A little sparkle and some red lipstick, to this day, can lift my spirits. She taught us how to feel beautiful and like we were the most important girls (and boys) on earth. This picture is one of my earliest recitals, but I remember feeling so pretty (clearly, based on my pose), and like I was a rock star about to go on stage. 

                          

               I’m sad to say that I quit dance before I graduated from high school. I got busy doing other things and it was hard to find the time for twice weekly lessons. I still remember the day I told Mrs. Moore and the disappointment I saw in her eyes. It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life. I still have dreams that the recital is going on and I haven’t learned the dance because I quit! I guess that’s another lesson I learned from her. Don’t quit the things that matter, even if it takes a little extra effort to get it done.

            We gathered together on a chilly Tuesday afternoon to say goodbye to Mrs. Moore. There were lots of family, friends, and former students there. It was good to see her family, even under such sad circumstances. I watched her daughter Terry dancing in her chair to “In the Mood”, one of Mrs. Moore’s favorite warm up songs. It was all I could do not to break into the time steps or a jazz square. I hope that all her daughters and grandchildren know how very much we loved their Mimi, and how much we love them. We all felt like we were an extended part of their family, and I’m ever so glad they let us be a part of it. Mr. Moore picked out “Sentimental Journey” as the last song they played at the funeral. It was so fitting. We all to some degree have gone down a sentimental road this week, remembering a lady that was the epitome of class and grace wrapped in love. She changed our lives for the better. The pastor said that when we all meet in the air someday, Judy Moore won’t be hard to pick out. She’ll be the one dancing. He couldn’t have said it better. 

“A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Ecclesiastes 3:3-5

We love you Mrs. Moore. When I get to heaven, I expect the angels to know the time steps.