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I’ve just returned from a birthday dinner/charity fundraiser that not only involved my mom seeing people she’s known for 25 years but hasn’t seen much of in the past 10 (Mom: “Jess, you have to help me with names. You know I don’t remember names. So there’s Luke…and…um…” Me: “Susan.” I’m surprised she remembered whose birthday it was) but also involved the most painfully slow yet beautiful version of Mr. Bojangles. As played by a young guitarist and a very patient vocalist. “Mister…Bojangles…dance…” It was like open mike night in the church basement! There was even a poetry slam!

But seriously. We need more dancing in the world. I kept hoping someone would roll up the rug (figuratively speaking – pushing back the tables would be more like it) and bust out some dance tunes. I used to dance till my toes bled three days a week,* and now…now I daydream of tangos and waltzes and anything to get my feet moving and my heart rate up. A nice Austen-y country dance or a ceili or some salsa (although that, I’m no good at). Anyone? Anyone? I don’t want to be the only one on the dance floor.**

*I exaggerate. They didn’t bleed that much, but they felt like they were.
**And none of this modern crap, please. That’s not dancing, that’s wiggling your hips. I’m a traditional girl.

October 2005

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