At the festival, with Charles

His nametag shows the formal version of the name of a famous cartoon character. Completely bald, his eyes ringed by round-framed glasses, tall but standing slightly stooped, he even looks like a grown-up version of the character. As I recall (but maybe I'm just wishing for this part) he's even wearing a pale yellowish shirt with a broad stripe across the chest.

I can't believe my eyes. I have to ask whether that is his real name.

"No," he answers, smiling. He says that he just likes to have some anonymity at festivals like these.

As we practice the instructor's newest idea, I stumble in a simple step and reflexively apologize.

"There's no room for apologies in tango," he gently chides. "If I apologized every time I messed up, people would think the refrain of the song was 'Sorry!'"

I laugh and thank him, unable to resist adding, "You're a good man, Charlie Brown!"