One of my earliest memories is of listening to a Beatles song my father played on a Roberts reel to reel. I was probably four years old. My recollection is that I danced.
My father had what I considered a great stereo system. It had big speakers, a Pioneer receiver, a turntable and the reel-to-reel. Though I was forbidden to touch the reel to reel, I figured out how it worked and went ahead and used it anyway. As with much of what I did, after having been forbidden to it, my father seemed to resign himself to it and at the same time admired my moxy.
We had a tape of Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life that even got my mother dancing. The tape had been given to us by one of my dad’s friends. In my mind’s eye, I still see the three of us, my mother, sister and I dancing in the den. That is still one of my favorite cd’s.
My mother dancing was a rare thing, which made it all the more exciting to me when she joined in. She loved to watch me dancing, though and I loved showing off for her. I remember dancing in our kitchen to Steely Dan’s Peg, much to her amusement.
My father would cut the rug on holidays if I played some Frank Sinatra. He spin me around the room, happy that I twisted his arm. I always was sorry when whatever song we were dancing to ended.
My sister is a fabulous dancer. When I was in high school, one of our afternoon pastimes was turning the stereo up LOUD and dancing in our family room. We wouldn’t dance together. As I remember it, we’d face in opposite directions, orbiting each other as we moved around the room.
We could dance for hours.
When we lived in Boston together, some years ago now, we went out one night to one of the clubs together. We were older than most everyone there. Toward the end of the night we were surrounded by college guys all holding onto their beers, swaying to the music. None of them had asked us to dance.
My husband and I took a swing dance class once, not long after we started dating. We were enthusiastic about perfecting the steps. We’d get up in the morning, put on Glenn Miller’s String of Pearls and dance naked in the dining room.
When I was pregnant I danced right through our creative department one afternoon while listening to my iPod. I felt excited and the music just carried me away. Two of my bosses, in conversation across the way, saw me but I didn’t care.
Two days after Minky was born, I laid her down on our couch after she had fallen asleep. I put my headphones on and danced with abandon to Lou Rawls You’ll Never Find. I know that I was running on only adrenaline. In the subsequent months, I’ve twirled her around plenty. I think that soon, she’ll join me.
