Music and dance seem to be in the air that Peruvians breathe, in the oxygen that courses through their lungs. Everywhere we go, we hear music; we see dancing. We’ve seen parades in Lima with dancers in colorful costumes, with panpipes and the beat of native drums. We’ve seen street bands in Huancayo, with hand-carried harps, with the clear, haunting sound of the Andes. We’ve heard young music students in San Ramon, in Francisco’s sister’s living room, preparing, they hoped, for the music conservatory in Lima, playing ancient Quechua songs on traditional instruments - an afternoon etched forever in our hearts.
Peruvians dance. They dance in their kitchens. They dance in their streets. Old people dance, young people dance, babies dance. One of our most enjoyable experiences was dancing on a rooftop at a birthday party.
So it was no surprise to us two years ago to see the children of San Manuelito dancing at recess. At the time, their only playground equipment was an old rusty swing set that was rarely used.
One of the teachers played music on her cell phone and the children danced. They laughed, they shouted, they jumped, and they danced.
Last year we were able to put in a small playground, in memory of our grandson, Richie Jeffs, who died in 2014 while waiting for a heart transplant. The teachers had asked for a playground, for equipment where children could play, could swing, could climb. We too thought it was important. This year we hope to expand it, perhaps to purchase a swing that will be accessible to children in wheelchairs.
But children, beautiful children of San Manuelito, and your teachers, our friends, our amigos, I hope there will always be somebody dancing at recess.
Peruvians dance. They dance in their kitchens. They dance in their streets. Old people dance, young people dance, babies dance. One of our most enjoyable experiences was dancing on a rooftop at a birthday party.
So it was no surprise to us two years ago to see the children of San Manuelito dancing at recess. At the time, their only playground equipment was an old rusty swing set that was rarely used.
One of the teachers played music on her cell phone and the children danced. They laughed, they shouted, they jumped, and they danced.
Last year we were able to put in a small playground, in memory of our grandson, Richie Jeffs, who died in 2014 while waiting for a heart transplant. The teachers had asked for a playground, for equipment where children could play, could swing, could climb. We too thought it was important. This year we hope to expand it, perhaps to purchase a swing that will be accessible to children in wheelchairs.
But children, beautiful children of San Manuelito, and your teachers, our friends, our amigos, I hope there will always be somebody dancing at recess.
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