I believe it was a waltz. My dance partner was a vision of beauty and grace in tangerine chiffon, and warm summer breezes blew through the tent on the side of Blue Mountain as we made our way about the dancefloor.
It was July of 1996, the evening of the Gala Dinner at the Adirondack Museum and I was dancing with Kitty Carlisle Hart. I was too young to know her from Marx Brothers films, or even from her television days with “To Tell the Truth” and “What’s My Line?”.
I was working as a Development officer for the museum, and as the chairwoman of the New York State Council on the Arts, Mrs. Hart had attended a few of our special events during my tenure.
She was of a generation which produced something we simply don’t see much of anymore: the classy dame. She was elegant and funny and put me completely at ease. Our dance was, for me, the thrill of a lifetime.
We weren’t friends, but I have always thought of her as such. I’m sorry I never had the opportunity to see her one-woman memoir show, “My Life Upon the Wicked Stage.” It sounded absolutely delightful.
And I was very sorry to hear last evening that Kitty had passed away. The world is a richer place for having had her with us and I’m sure now she’s off to teach Heaven a thing or two.
Thanks for the dance, Kitty!