I danced for the first time in 1958... with a partner...
a girl! Kids
grew up a lot slower back then. I was thirteen, and most boys my age
thought
dancing was silly. Dancing with girls was cause to giggle. Two
years earlier
we had Square Dancing in Fifth Grade, and, though I really enjoyed it, it
was
like a game. And it was required; everyone had to do it, sort of like
homework.
Our church group of older teenagers, Christian Endeavors,
had attended a
weekend retreat in Pacific Palisades, and I tagged along on Sunday to pick
up
my sister Kay, who had been one of the leaders. We got there when things
were
winding down after a long weekend! Families were meeting up and heading
home.
Some older kids were gathered outdoors around a record
player and a stack
of 45's (records), and they were dancing, an activity officially frowned
upon
by the Presbyterian Church at the time and certainly not encouraged.
The
kids were dancing a new dance, not together like grown ups, but apart from
each
other and to Rock and roll music. I stopped to watch and listen, since
I had
not seen the real thing in person, just on a new TV show, American Bandstand.
It was The Bop.
"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog!..." the record
player shouted, and
the kids moved almost in unison to the rhythm. Elvis was cool.
But actual
dancing was an elusive concept, moving your feet and swaying around in unknown
ways. How people did it was a mystery, and it looked like more work
than fun.
Some kids were sweating! So I just stood on the perimeter and watched...
and,
well, I liked Elvis a lot. It was great just being there.
"Want to dance?" A girl's voice cut through the
music. "Uh... me?" I
said weakly, turning toward her voice. She had long, blonde hair and
was just a
little taller than I was. I glanced around, looking for the person
she was
really talking to. It couldn't be me. Maybe I was looking for
a way out.
"Who else silly?" She said with a smile. Then
she took hold of my arm
and tugged me into the dancers. "Come on." I didn't know where
she came from.
I had never seen her before. A new song started, "Bless my soul
what's
wrong with me? I feel like a man on a woolly tree." She started
dancing like the
rest of the kids.
"I don't know how," I blurted out. "Maybe you should
ask someone else."
I was embarrassed for all sorts of reasons, particularly for not knowing
how
to dance. "It's easy," she said. "All you do is move your feet
back and
forth... like this!" And her feet moved together... and apart... from
one side to
the other, in time with the beat of, "All Shook Up." "See?" She
said
smiling at me.
So I tried to do it just like she did... once... twice...
and it was
easy. And in just a short time I was moving in sync with her and all
the other
kids too. Hey, it was fun! There was something to it that was
not apparent
from just watching other people do it.
"Cool," I said, concentrating intently on my feet.
"I've never done this
before." Slowly the repetition took over, urged on by the beat of the
music,
and it was like riding a bike; a little wobbly at first, then steadier.
But
I was doing it. I was dancing!
The song ended, and she tried to show me some variations
to the step, but
it was all I could do to keep the basics under control. The next record
was
Ricky Nelson's, It's Late," and we resumed dancing. It got easier and
easier.
But in the middle of the song she said, "Gotta go. We're leaving
now." And
off she went with a wave and a "See ya!"
I fumbled for words, but she was gone. I watched
as she joined a group
of people getting into a station wagon, probably her family. My FIRST
DANCE
was over. It had become my first quickie. It all happened so
fast I was in
shock. But I never forgot. I didn't know her name or where she
was from, but
she got me to dance!
My family left a little later, and as our car winded through
the busy
city streets, I watched the passing scenes of neighborhood businesses and
pedestrians going their ways in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon.
From the
radio came, "Hey, bird dog, get away from my quail! Hey bird dog, you're
on
the wrong trail! Bird dog, you'd better leave my Lovey Dove a-lo-o-o-o-ne!"
And the Everly Brothers latest hit record filled the car, I moved my feet
back
and forth to the beat.
Cool.
(c) 2003 by Randy Steven Kraft
All rights reserved.