Pescara in Italy with the incredible - Norma Miller 2016

A Night with Norma: Harlem’s Spirit in Pescara

It was the summer of 2016, in the warm, open-armed air of Pescara.
The kind of Italian night where everything came together,
as the sea hums swing and we all have a glimmer in our hearts.

There I was, seated beside a legend—
Norma Miller.
The Queen of Swing.
The last First Lady of Lindy Hop.

At 96, she moved through time like it was a dance floor.
Sharp, funny, glowing as radiant, as she could but 100% unfiltered and Harlem lady.
Her hearing might’ve faded, but her soul?
Never.
So I had the honor of being her translator at this event,
her echo, her bridge,
on those golden evenings before the festival's main dance event and after our classes.

We sat at a modest table,
at times I was getting glimpses of the Savoy Ballroom, as she inserted from her memory
and set stories among us.
Dancers came like moths to flame—
beautiful Italian Lindy Hop souls, hearts open,
with questions for Norma as if she were an oracle.
And truly, she was.

We laughed until midnight stretched into memory.
She told stories of Harlem when it swung like nowhere else—
the bands, the brawls, the brilliance,
the boys on corners with slick shoes and smoother talk,
and the music, oh the music—
Basie, Duke Ellington, Chick Webb pounding out rhythms
that made the world forget its troubles.

She painted it all like a mural with her own true words.
Vivid. Honest. Unforgettable.

We spoke of Frankie Manning—her friend, her peer—
how he could glide across the floor
like wind dancing through curtains.
Together they built a world of movement,
a jazz-soaked rebellion against gravity.
They were the pulse of a generation
that refused to stand still, and now we were hear, stomping in their moves

Norma had fire.
Even then, it was there in her,laugh,
with a single truth, or light it up
with one of her one-liners.
She was Harlem in a heartbeat.
She was swing with a soul.

And though she passed today May 5th 2019,
I still see her clearly,
beneath those Pescara stars—
surrounded by rhythm,
telling tales with time on her side,
dancing with ghosts of Duke and Ella,
Sidney and Satchmo,
all of them nodding,
smiling,
because Norma was the real deal.

To the big band players who laid down the tracks,
to Frankie who led with grace,
but most of all to Norma—
thank you.

For your stories. Your energy. Your truth.
You filled our hearts like a horn section in full swing,
and left us dancing still.

God Bless you today. X