Cowboy waltz
Len and Deborah Ferrington. (Provided photo)
I got some terrible news a couple of days ago. A friend I have known for six years, Len Ferrington, died unexpectedly from a heart attack while bicycling with his wife. I posted some photos on Facebook of our times together from various ballroom dance events. Others did the same. It’s clear from the accompanying comments that Len was universally loved and respected. He spent his days researching insects. At 72, he had no immediate plans to retire from his job at the University of Minnesota. He was preparing to go to Scandinavia for a rural research project, and studying the mandolin. He was learning choreography for a couple of dances in an upcoming live performance. He was seemingly always in good spirits. He said his wife, Deborah, was a finalist for a job in California that he believed would result in a career-capping promotion. He was excited for her, but said he would stay in Minnesota if she got the job. They had managed such temporary separations before and he had no doubt they would work it out again.
Len during on of his research projects on midges in southeast Minnesota. (Provided photo)
Len, wearing a cap from one of the annual Snow Ball dance competitions. (Provided photo)
Len’s death surprised us all because he was fit and easy going. If he had any health concerns they were well concealed. As I poured through my photos of Len it occurred to me that many of my friends in the ballroom world were growing older, and few are in as good physical condition as was Len — myself included. I thought, I am glad I relentlessly take pictures at our dance events. The images help us reflect on good times. They are evidence that we were here and times were good. Then I thought, am I going to go through this process again and again, as my friends pass? If I’m around, of course, I will.
Angela Chirpich. (Photo by Dan Browning/Danzante Photography LLC)
Len’s death serves as a counterpoint to a quinceañera celebration that I shot last month. Angela, the young lady turning fifteen, had a retinue of friends helping her move about in a hoop skirt reminiscent of Gone with the Wind. Her parents wanted keepsakes from the event and hired me to memorialize it. I was deeply honored. Angela and her mom went through the photos together at my house about the time that Len set out on his last bike ride. They loved the photos and relived the event as they tried to narrow their selections for retouching and prints.
Len Ferrington with Grace Peterson. Photo by Dan Browning/Danzante Photography LLC.
One life was getting started as another was coming to a close, or perhaps a transition. Our lives are brief, and fade like morning mist. But those memories will carry on, encapsulated in photographs with the power to awaken them from time to time. When times are tough, photographs can remind us that they also have been good, and promise to be good again. Len got that, and celebrated photos of himself dancing, especially the Argentine tango.
In 2018, Len lost a nephew who died at age 46 from multiple myeloma, leaving a young family. He wrote, “We are working on creating a positive vision for the future. Much concern about the immediate family and their current needs.” He lost his father and mother-in-law in 2019. He acknowledged the losses, but did not dwell on them. He always looked to the light, and often sent a link to one of his favorite songs or videos or jokes. Here’s one he sent me in 2019.
