Classically Not

There's something British about her. I feel I should drink more tea when she's around. There's a decorum, an elegance, a sophistication.

There's something Jewish about her. It was fun hanging out with her and Scott and Levi by the gelato shop in Venice, practicing Cherkessia (Jewish dance step).

There's something Spanish about her. It's amazing to watch Elizabeth in concert. My favorite pieces are her flamenco-style work, fingers flying, drumming the dance of the matador, at least that's what I picture.

Rasgeaudo, that's the name of the technique, that thing where she turns her fingers into a firing squad, guitar strings beware. It would be violent if not so beautiful. Amid the flurry of hands and notes and dancing harmonics, she closes her eyes and leans, smiling, into her imagination.

There's something Colorado about her. She's a still, quiet soul with a calming presence and a healing warmth. She's born of wide spaces and grand nature. Stately like trees. Peaceful like water. Designed by God and full of his glory. Captivating, like Colorado.

There's something Los Angeles about her. Just when you think you've seen this brand of classical before, she breaks into an amazing rendition of a Peter, Paul and Mary tune. Just when I think how proper and elegant she is, she inverts into a head-stand on the beach, explaining that if you fall backwards you'll land on your feet and if you fall forward you will have completed a somersault, the one a comfort, the other an accomplishment.

At lunch on Monday she said, "I wanna go somewhere where life isn't just around the corner, it's already here!"

There's something Classical about her. There's something Not.

A single phrase to describe my friend Elizabeth Busch:

Life Dance Adventurer