Stories from my childhood #10
I've always loved to dance. I'm not what you'd call good at it, but it makes me feel happy.
When I was three years old my mother signed me up for dance lessons. I took tap and ballet. I really loved tap. The instructor was young and enthusiastic. She made it fun. I took lessons until I was about seven years old. Ballet was another story. The instructor was an old lady who carried a long wooden rod with a metal tip. If your feet weren't turned the right way, she would move them with that metal tip, none too gently. As we plied or eleved, or went from position to position she tapped the metal tip on the wood floor in time with the music. She would call you out and taught using intimidation and humiliation as a tool. I quit dance school because of her. :0( I can still hear the disappointment in my mother's voice when I cried and said I didn't want to go back.
However, I also recall my tap recital routine entitled, Hollywood, Here We Come. We had on red, white, and blue sequinned leotards with boater hats and red bows on our tap shoes. We each had a wooden box made to took like a suitcase. We shuffle-ball-changed to:
Hollywood here we come
Oh hello, and how are you son?
We've joined the parade
We're starting to be made
Hollywood here we come!
My next venture into dancing was in a school pageant. Our class was representing the Hawaiian Islands. The overall theme was the Fifth Dimension's, My Beautiful Balloon. When the balloon stopped in the Hawaiian Islands we danced a cute little Hula to Mele Kalikimaka. We had to learn the hand movements, as well as the steps. We wore hula skirts with our bathing suits and we had garland around our heads, writs, and ankles. I loved it!
Next I learned to dance with a baton. I was fairly good at it. I could figure eight, toss and catch, hand to hand travel, all while kicking, marching, cartwheeling, and jumping. This was a short-lived endeavor.
I love to dance, but I married two different men who did not or do not enjoy dancing. Ben and I took California Swing classes, but he was a Puerto Rican man without any rhythm in his feet. He could drum up a mean paradiddle, but that man could not dance. What his feet lacked he made up for with enthusiasm.
Bob can dance. I think he has pretty good rhythm, but five minutes in he starts complaining about his knees. I'm so used to dancing alone, I have a tendency to want to lead. Ms. Independent strikes again. Ha Ha Ha
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