Dancing The Night Away

My parents were wonderful ballroom dancers and they really enjoyed dancing the night away. They belonged to dance clubs and were always on the "favorite invitees" lists of their friends. They practiced their craft often and well. So it was understandable that as soon as my brother and I were old enough, we were enrolled in local ballroom dancing classes. They were held in six-week sessions at the American Legion hall and we were enrolled in session after session, eventually moving up to the advanced classes. We learned the waltz, the fox-trot, the swing or jitterbug, cha-cha, rumba, samba, tango and other ballroom dances. At the end of each session, there was a "dance party" when the kids would dress up in party dresses and sports coats to show off the newly acquired skills to parents and friends. Oh how I wish I had videos of those dress-up parties!

The boys were expected to walk over and politely bow to the girls and graciously ask, "may I please have this dance?" I can't imagine how many lawsuits would be attached to making such a demand of kids these days. But the chivalrous boys asked and we danced for the duration of the party. As part of the celebration, there was usually a dance contest. As I recall, it was usually a waltz or fox-trot, but there could have been other contests as well. All I know is that my brother and I won several blue ribbons for placing first in our dance class. We were "cute" dancing together. We looked alike and were often mistaken for twins although my brother was two years older. I was very small for my age, so it seemed that the ability to follow my brother had come to a very small child.

Of course, our parents were extremely proud, certain that the "family dancing gene" had been appropriately handed down.

But I loved it. I enjoyed dancing and I enjoyed the fact that the boys' parents urged them to ask me to dance because I danced well and could follow any of them. The dancing skills stayed with us and my brother and I both continued to love dancing into our teens and beyond. But very soon, my brother gave up any notion of dancing with his sister. Dance with your his sister? How embarrassing! To this day he'd probably deny that it ever happened.

Fast forward to my teen years and the time when I was dating.  My mom and dad were still going dancing just about every weekend - as they did regularly until they they were physically unable to do so. In fact, they went dancing until after my dad started cancer treatments in his late 70s. And might I add that my mom danced in high heeled shoes until shortly before she passed away. And their skills and stamina seemed to improve with age. Oh how I loved to watch my mom and dad dance! Fast music or slow, it didn't matter. They were wonderful dancers and so much fun to watch. And I really enjoyed dancing with my father!

Which brings me to the point of this whole lifetime of family dancing. When I was dating, my mom was convinced that I shouldn't consider dating guys who didn't like to dance as much as I did. She insisted that if I were to marry someone who didn't like to dance, there would certainly come a time when I would want to go dancing and my husband would not. She then surmised that I would be ready to go out dancing without him. Certainly a recipe for disaster!

So when I met the cute guy that would eventually become my husband, I had no choice but to carefully scrutinize his dancing skills. He didn't pass the test. Obviously, his parents hadn't enrolled him in the academy of ballroom dance and boyhood chivalry!  I thought about my mom's advice but I really liked this guy. So I presented him with an ultimatum. Either he would dance with me or somebody else would. He explained that he didn't have anything against learning to dance but he'd never been taught. He asked if I'd noticed that most of the best dancers had older sisters or cousins who had taught them to dance. So the dance lessons began right away.  He was a willing student and I got my wish. My new boyfriend was my new dance partner. As it turns out, that boyfriend I had at age 17 is the husband I've had for the past 46+ years. My sweetie!

So here I am, so many years later, with feet that rarely allow me to go dancing. Even then, it's all I can do to dance with my comfort shoes, so there's obviously not the slightest chance I would consider dancing in high heels as my mother did all of her life.

I often think of my mother's advice and wonder "what if that advice now worked in reverse?" What if the man I married loved to dance so much that he'd now be ready to go dancing without me? As it happened, my husband likes to dance but he never gained enough confidence in his dancing ability to dance with anybody but me. Pretty slick on my part, don't you think? No worries about him ever going without me! So after all these years, I'd still love to go dancing every weekend just as my parents did.  But with my feet, there's no way it will ever happen. I'd give anything if I could dance the night away in high heeled shoes with my handsome husband. But in spite of all the blue ribbons we won as children, my years of dancing the night away were fun however short lived.