I imagine the ISU is really a microcosm of our own local government, where before every session someone gets a senator to sponsor a project they hope to make into a bill.  Recently, for example, there was large group in our community lobbying for dogs to have DNA markers established so when an anonymous pile of doggy doo-doo was found on the grassy lawn of a canary owner, the owner of said canine could be identified.  The logic and expense of this seemed lost on the crowd of enthusiasts and local headlines announced the “Scoop On Poop” meltdown that still garnered a 46 ‘yah’ vote.

So with this type of dementia floating around the universe it almost seems normal that the ISU would put some verbiage into proposed changes that seems, well, counterproductive.

The hype of which I speak is, of course, the proposed idea regarding music selections:  “Music Must be Uplifting.”

“What does that mean exactly?”  I asked my daughter.

“I think they don’t want anything political or controversial coming across the arena sound system.”

“But, soulful angst is the backbone of Ice-dancing.  How can we take out the open-mouthed pleas to the stands, the arm thrown across the brow?  Is it all to be Topanga Red lipstick smiles now?”

My daughter continued to look at her computer screen, probably hoping like the Macy’s Customer Service representative that I would go away with my complaint about inferior thread quality in a Marc Jacobs jacket (which resulted in the sleeve unhemming after two wears).

“And who decides this? What is too emotional?”

My daughter looked up from her Mac.  “I doubt if it will be a parent.  You have cried at each of my programs.  It will probably be a new component of the Technical Caller.”

“Oh my gosh, remember your little red and white dress, and you pretended to play the piano…that was so adorable.”

“See, your eyes are welling up now.”

“But will a technical caller have time to know all the nuances of the music, the symbolism, I mean even if this seems we are reduced to Disney music and National Anthems, there are many emotional connections to these pieces—I mean in Disney just look how many mothers have died to leave their little girls in a boorish patriarchal…”

“Mom, you are reading way to much into this.  This is really very literal.  ‘Does it have an uplifting quality’ is really the only thing in question.”

“Okay, while I’m glad they are eliminating the possibility of me ever hearing anything by The Carpenters or Barbara Streisand, I’m not sure we can just blackline everything that does not have a Happy Ending.   Ice-Dancing is not playing on the Lifetime Network, sometimes it goes HBO or Showtime.”

She looks at her laptop and makes a face so that I suspect she is skyping her pain across the globe.

“I mean, look at your last competitive free dance, it was about a woman loving a man who did not love her because, well, he was a big jerk and took…”

“Mom, really?”

“I’m just saying, how is that uplifting?  It was so emotional and everyone in the arena was crying.”

“No, that was you crying and through your blubbering you thought everyone else was crying.

“It’s a story everyone identifies with.  Not a happy time.”

“But, everyone also understands that you get over it, you realize the guy wasn’t all that, and you move on.  You make yourself better.  You find someone better because you have grown.”

I look at my child, the wise one—the Sensei of love in the ice-dance world.  “That was so beautiful. “

She rolls her eyes and goes back to Facebook where I am pretty sure she is recruiting fans for the group “When will my mother stop being a Freak?”

“That would be a beautiful song if you put those words to music,” I add.

Her hands pause on the keyboard as she possibly considers my statement.

“Of course, you probably couldn’t skate to it.”

Mombo