When I was 21 and jumping up and down in the fashion of the day to the punk version of “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane” as performed by the Swingers, or going to see the Ramones multiple times . . .
When I was 23 and danced every minute that the Fabulous Thunderbirds played at the annual LULAC fundraiser in Waco, losing almost five pounds in water weight, so that I had to buy a giant Butterfinger just to have the strength to drive home . . .
When I went to West Fest just to see Brave Combo, the “nuclear polka” band that played polka and salsa versions of many unlikely songs . . .
When I went to Los Padrinos in San Antonio (or the Bonham Exchange, or St. Mary’s Bar and Grill, or the Beauregard), danced until closing then hit the Taco Cabana. One bean-and-cheese, then usually a carne guisada . . .
When my college friends and I took the floor at a bowling alley in Port Washington, Wis., and danced every fast song played by Barry’s Truckers, until the band finally played a slow song and the lead singer intoned: “Sorry, girls” . . .
When I danced in my 20s, was I dancing with the feverish certainty that my dancing days would end at 30 or 35? Or did I know that I would still be jumping up and down at an age when I could easily have an of-age child beside me? Saw the Wild Magnolia last night. They threw me beads and a peace pipe. Came home at 1 –and was up at 7:30, ready to tackle the day.
You young folks who come around here (Christin, Dave, Bryon), are you delighted or horrified by the idea that one can continue having fun as long as one has no sense of shame or propriety? Would you rather be dignified?
Old folks — get out your dancing shoes and tell me what moved you. Where? When? Any of the Baltimoreans remember Kirby Scott? Any Buddy Deaners here? Because I confess I’ve always wanted to learn the Madison. Big strong line!