Tag Archives: cherie magnus

Cherie Magnus’ new book, The Church of Tango, is out now.

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The Church of Tango: a Memoir, published January 21, 2012

On July 1st 2001, Cherie Magnus’ short article, The Church of Tango was published here on the-vu. Now a full-length memoir with the same title is published and it’s the talk of the milongas around the world. Cherie writes on her blog:

“Finally.

I started writing this story at the time it began–in February of 1992, when I was so depressed after my husband’s death I wanted to swallow all of his left-over meds and follow him into the beyond. So what began in a way as a journal or diary became the chronicle of my road to survival in four countries. And once I made that decision to live no matter what tragedy came my way, I plugged on, through one tremendous loss after another, by dancing. No, not yet had the tango found me, but whatever dance there was at the time came to my rescue. I had always been a dancer, and now I knew dance could save me from despair.

As my adventures unfolded, the manuscript grew and grew. I had to make cuts in events, characters, reflections and realizations. That was the hardest part of bringing this story to fruition. There is so much left out. Who knows, maybe I’ll write The Daughter of the Church of Tango, or a prequel one day.

Our students come from all over the world: China, The Philippines, Australia, Viet Nam, New Zealand, Hawaii, South Africa, India, Nepal, Finland, Russia, Israel, Scandinavia, all over Europe, Chile, Brazil, Colombia, Ecuador, Mexico, Canada and the U.S. And one question almost all ask me is, how did I end up teaching tango in Argentina?

This book is my answer.

Lots of women have come to Buenos Aires for tango, stayed a while, and went home and wrote about their experiences. There are a couple of tango histories available in English, as well as a couple of Buenos Aires milonga guide books. There are self-help books using tango as a way to better interpersonal relationships. There are some novels about tango in Buenos Aires.

My memoir is not like any of them; it is not a “tango book,” but a story of survival that cuts across death, cancer, Alzheimer’s, loss of home and homeland and cherished heirlooms and possessions, loss of shared histories, of hope for one’s children, of hope for the future, of love. But it’s also about finding love and unexpected joy. And about listening to the music and dancing.”

It can be ordered from the printer online: https://www.createspace.com/3733773

Now available on Amazon and soon as an ebook for Kindle.

An American Diary from Mexico – Episode 9

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Dancing Down The Aisle
By Cherie Magnus


I would believe only in a God that knows how to dance. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

I dance down the aisle of Saint Paul’s Anglican Church in San Miguel twice a month, carrying my cross. Like most people, I’ve always had a cross to bear, except for that brief perfect time of my marriage. And now I have a literal one. I’m a Crucifer.

The cross I carry is very beautiful, made of stained glass and Tiffany jewels. And I do dance with it, the processional step-pause of a wedding, and always in time to the hymn being sung. I wear a white alb, usually my San Miguel cocktail huaraches and a small ruby and silver cross made by a local jeweler.

It is such a blessing for me to serve in this way. I feel proud and humble and thankful. The Mexican people are accustomed to physically participating in their religion on a daily basis, unlike the Protestant gringo and Northern European. I’ve felt so envious of all the processions and the full-blown, emotional festivals I’ve witnessed here, longing to be a part of them. In my own quiet gringa way I’ve built altars in my apartment, and lately in the business offices of my busy Mexican friends. I’m always in the streets for the processions on feast days, I walked all night the 17 kilometers from Atotonilco at Easter time, and I’ve gone alone late at midnight to the Panteon on Day of the Dead, wishing I could join a family celebration on the grave of a loved one.

What an exquisite and moving tradition to have a special day to honor one’s dead with remembrances and fiestas. It is so healthy for the living to remember their loved ones and to contemplate their own mortality in a personal way. My husband’s grave in France is a plot leased for only twenty more years, my mother is buried in an old graveyard in downtown Los Angeles, my father’s burial place is in the Valley with my grandfather’s, and my grandmother’s ashes were scattered at sea before she allowed me or my children to be notified of her death. No one visits, and certainly no one parties on their graves, bringing their favorite foods and drink and flowers to lure their spirits back for that night, unless it’s a Mexican family’s overflow. But now I’ve learned how to lure their spirits back to me once a year.

Here in Mexico religion is everywhere, and I am thankful I have one too. Maybe I’m not a Catholic, but it doesn’t matter. I understand the sufferings of Jesus, and his mother, Our Lady of Sorrows. I pray to the same God, and the complicated legends and stories that Mexicans grow up with now enrich my faith too. I’m moved to touch the old beloved images the people kiss and adore even though it is not in my culture as a Lutheran, but I am blessed just the same. All the thousands of saints and the Hosts of Heaven and the Orishas of Cuba look after me too, and I’m thankful I at last found out about them.

Last Easter season I made the midnight pilgrimage from Atononilco, a beautiful old church (called the Sistine Chapel of Mexico) in a village 17 km from San Miguel., an annual tradition for over 250 years–carrying a sacred image to San Miguel for the Easter season. About 6,000 people walk along in silence behind El Senor de la Columna in the light of torches, with rockets going off at the head of the procession to announce our arrival. Then at six on Sunday morning, when we entered San Miguel on Independencia, thousands more people lined the decorated streets in welcome, offering the pilgrims hot food and drink. We stopped there to unveil the images, and then continued on to the church of San Juan de Dios, walking through the mint and manzanilla and elaborate designs in colored sawdust covering the cobblestones, our footsteps scattering in an instant the beautiful patterns incorporating Catholic and indigenous designs that took all the previous day and night to make.

My personal cross has been heavy at times, with all the illness, death and loss of the past decade. But I’ve always had help in carrying it, and now to lead the procession to worship in a beautiful little church in Mexico is my blessing and reward.

About this author: With degrees in English, Dance, and Library Science from UCLA, Cherie has published many articles in professional journals and magazines. Her solo travels to Europe and Latin America have inspired several pieces published in Skirt!, PassionFruit, Moxie, JourneyWoman, Dancing USA, GoNomad, Open Spaces, Porthole, The Cusco Weekly, the-vu, and various online magazines. She was the dance critic for the Cerritos News in Orange County, California before moving to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She is currently at work on a novel situated in France, when she’s not out dancing. Follow her blog at http://tangocherie.blogspot.com/

An American Diary from Mexico – Episode 8

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Corpus Christi in San Miguel
By Cherie Magnus


My first day back in San Miguel de Allende after three weeks, I ran around doing errands, unpacking, organizing, but I wasn’t too busy to notice the hanging of red and gold satin and velvet banners from balconies along the main streets. Thinking a weekend fiesta was in the making, I went about my business. I was tired and almost ate a quesadilla standing at the stove, which is my usual dinner fare. But I decided to go out for a margarita instead and see if I could find any of my friends, since I already was missing my Los Angeles people.

Noticing that the streets were covered in fragrant herbs like a lawn, I stood and stared at the cobblestones for a while as if the green were a mirage in the dusk. My eyes just couldn’t process what they were seeing. Then I noticed large bouquets of crimson and gold flowers placed on the sidewalks outside several grand colonial doorways, openings that ordinarily are entrances to apartment buildings, shops, and restaurants.

Peering inside one such doorway, and not wishing to disturb the silent worshippers there, I saw a glorious altar, all in red, gold and white, with God the Father reaching down from a cloud. In another doorway-turned-chapel, was a tiny girl dressed as an angel sitting on a white satin stool in front of the altar. As my eyes got used to what to look for, I saw many altars, all different, in the center of town.

Soon, naturally, a procession began to wend its way from the Parroquia and down the mint-and-flower-strewn streets. Stopping at every altar, the men carrying the litter with the Sacraments kneel, a priest takes it inside, and a prayer is read for that family, amplified by the speaker one man carries over his shoulder. The people on the street often kneel too and make the sign of the cross and the men remove their hats. And then a rocket is shot off into the sky and explodes, either to scare away evil spirits or to alert God of what’s going on here in San Miguel de Allende.

The procession moves slowly forward along the proscribed route of crimson banners while a choir sings behind the accompanist who plays a Casio keyboard carried by four boys. Fresh bread rolls, flowers, and herbs are given to the people at every altar. Sometimes the rocket frightens the roosting pigeons, which scatter, fluttering, as if they were released for effect on cue.

The small official procession is enlarged with hundreds of the faithful following behind, who respond to the liturgy with attentive Amens. The air is perfumed with incense and the streets become the church, the Body of Christ is literarlly brought to the people. Corpus Christi is more than a town in Texas, it is a holy festival day nowhere more celebrated than in Mexico.

About this author: With degrees in English, Dance, and Library Science from UCLA, Cherie has published many articles in professional journals and magazines. Her solo travels to Europe and Latin America have inspired several pieces published in Skirt!, PassionFruit, Moxie, JourneyWoman, Dancing USA, GoNomad, Open Spaces, Porthole, The Cusco Weekly, the-vu, and various online magazines. She was the dance critic for the Cerritos News in Orange County, California before moving to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She is currently at work on a novel situated in France, when she’s not out dancing. Follow her blog at http://tangocherie.blogspot.com/