Laura Rozo is a sophomore business and economics double major with a French minor. This summer while working for the local government in Azores, Portugal, she was diagnosed with stage 4 rhabdomyosarcoma, a cancer of the muscles. She is currently undergoing an aggressive clinical trial which combines chemotherapy and radiation. Carolina Hispanic Association held a “One Night to Make a Wish” benefit ball dedicated to Laura on Friday night. They raised more than $1,000 in ticket sales and donations.
Outside Gerrard Hall
The night air is cold as I trek in high heels toward Memorial Hall. The click from the bottom of my shoe dissipates in lonely echoes as it meets the brick walk. The street is warmed momentarily by the headlights of passing cars, awakened by the purr of the engines, but slips back into silence and stillness as quickly as the cars appear. It is the slow, lolling breath of Country Club Rd. on a late Friday evening.
Closer to the building, I can hear muffled beats of music pounding against the closed doors and occasional slivery flashes sweep through the cracks in the window blinds. Did I miss the memo about this benefit ball being an elegant techno rave? I walk around the building, finally stumbling into the entrance just as a guy in a black suit walks out. Oh. So that’s what the black and white balloons are for.
By the coat racks
I walk in just as Adriana Rodriguez is dedicating an original poem to Laura. Rodriguez is a friend of Laura’s from summer in Azores and the secretary to the Carolina Hispanic Association. She had written the poem when Laura was sent back to the United States after the diagnosis.
“Hold my hand in our eternal second and feel the beat of my heart
grasp at the first resonance of this hopeful time,” she reads.
The hall is dark but festively lit with soft lanterns hanging from the balcony. I look around and see figures standing around the dance floor, bare shoulders and slim waists accentuated by soft tulle, and ghostly white shirts graced with dark ties under formal jackets. All attention is on the speaker standing at the podium.
On the dance floor
The music starts again.
“Laura reaches so much of the community. She has so many friends from so many backgrounds and as soon as people heard they came together for her,” Andrea Alonso says. Alonso is the social co-chair of Carolina Hispanic Association.
“It’s a really diverse group of people that came together,” she says.
After playing about an hour’s worth of salsa and other Latin music, the DJ takes pity on the dancers attempting to mimic the quick turns and rhythmic steps of seasoned partners. The dance floor suddenly becomes crowded with smooth Wobblers (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siqrFpXBvBU), followed by some getting funky with the Cha-Cha slide.
“Even though not everyone is familiar with the Latin music, everyone was willing to dance and have fun,” Rodriguez said afterward.
11:11:11 p.m on 11/11/11
Just as I’m about to get fancy with my dance moves, the 20 second countdown to 11:11:11 starts. Our voices join in unison as we shout 3-2-1, even though no one really knows what will happen at the end of the countdown. Some give it the New Year’s holler, but others clasp their hands to fulfill what 11:11 really is—-the two minutes in a day when wishes come true.
“We had to do it on November 11 so we can all make a wish for Laura,” Alonso says.
The hall falls silent as attendees close their eyes for the unspoken wish—that Laura will get well soon. Afterward, Laura is presented with a basketball signed by all the members of UNC’s basketball team.
View from the balcony
As the night deepens, the music plays on for the dancers. Looking down from the balcony of the dance hall, arms and skirts intertwine as duos stomp past each other, their hips swaying purposefully with the music. Below, Laura’s mother is dancing with her husband, a genuine smile on her lips. Across the hall, a girl is dancing with her beau as they clean up the tables, holding hands as they carry empty pizza boxes and piles of used paper plates and crumpled napkins to the trash bag. The lanterns flicker as Laura watches from the side.
“The night of the ball was a clear collaboration between organizations that came together for Laura. We were able to raise money for someone that is a student here and the cause was close to home. That made it even more special,” Alonso said afterward.
Arms full of stars
On the way out, I see Laura’s uncle carrying an arm full of paper stars hot glued to wooden sticks. During the ball, attendees were encouraged to write notes to Laura on the stars. A tired, obligatory sort of smile emerges on the Uncle’s face as I ask him to pose for a picture.
But a smile nonetheless.
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