"Running Commentary"
Late Breaking News
THIS JUST IN … According to the Department of Kansas Land Security, our intrepid columnist R Michael Owens was forcefully abducted from his front porch under cover of darkness by an alien spaceship. Shortly thereafter, Michael’s body was rejected and discarded like a sack of last week’s trash because the extraterrestrial aliens could find nothing of value inside his brain.
Unfortunately, in the process of examining Michael’s internal “hard drive,” his memory chip was erased. Presently, an elite team of brain surgeons is attempting to restore Michael’s normal brainwave functions. Until they do, The Blade-Empire staff will have no choice but to run some old favorite columns of Michael. We apologize in advance to Michael’s loyal readers.
DEAD CENTIPEDE WALKING … Few people would argue with the premise that it’s good for a couple to share each other’s passions and interests. Not ALL interests and not all the time … but sharing some interests with your partner is a way of connecting on a different level and saying you care. Sharing is a means of adding substance and texture to the fabric of their relationship.
That’s what experts say. My take? All that Relationship Mumbo-Jumbo sounds great in theory. Operable words – IN THEORY.
A long time ago in a galaxy far away, those theories were severely tested. In the middle of one dreary wintery evening, a girlfriend asked if I would agree to take dancing lessons with her.
“Dance lessons?” I gulped. “Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?”
To demonstrate a heartfelt desire to share my personal passions, I rattled off a list of interests we could share as a couple … football, baseball, and basketball. To add a little diversity to the mix, I supplemented the list to include ice hockey, pizza, shooting pool and drinking dark beer. I added, “It’s even better when you combine all those things.”
One obvious omission – dancing lessons.
My girlfriend was not easily dissuaded. She had a gentle way of putting her foot down … usually when I’m barefoot and she’s wearing stiletto heels.
I was informed that the annual Lindy Hop Jamborama was returning to town – a three-day weekend of non-stop dancing. Lindy Hop is a close cousin of swing dancing, to the big band sounds of the 30’s and 40’s.
Think jitterbug – same church, nearby pew.
You think I’m exaggerating about non-stop? Each day is full of instruction, and after a dinner break, you dance to a live band starting around 8:00 pm. Then, AFTER midnight, a second band BEGINS playing. If you still have a pulse, you can dance until three or four in the morning.
Sleeping is optional, but you’re expected back for more classes early the next morning. In other words, the SAME morning.
Of course, none of those details were explained to me. Not to worry – the event was still light-years away. So, in a moment best described as “ESPN distracted,” I probably mumbled something along the lines of, “Sure … whatever.”
We were immediately signed up for the full weekend.
OMG! WHAT WAS I THINKING?
You may think I’m just a grumpy old man – and you’d be right about that. However, it’s my opinion that God did not create everyone equal. Each of us has different abilities. You know those people with two left feet? To my thinking, they’re the talented ones.
Think of me as a star-crossed centipede – with ALL left feet.
Dead centipede walking – left, left, left, left, left.
To me, the “jazz and jive scene” ranks up there with crash dummies driving into brick walls without seatbelts. I pride myself on being a coordinated athlete – always have been. But for some reason, it doesn’t translate to dancing.
OK, I admit it – I’m a klutz.
More of a dancing fool than a dancing queen.
Some people can dance … others enjoy watching dancers … from a long distance away … with binoculars. But it was too late to back out. In the words of Jean-Paul Sartre, “No exit.” I had to give the Lindy Hop a try.
So, how did it go? Seriously folks, it was an exhausting disaster. I took a separate beginner’s class and have never felt so discombobulated. Before I could get the hang of ONE basic step, they moved on to another … and another … and another. THEN, they COMBINED all the moves.
YIKES! Rock step, eight step, triple-step sideways, back step, kick step … stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight!
Holy Jamborama! Try doing THAT without alcohol.
Fortunately, my girlfriend was both forgiving and kind. She appreciated my hanging in there with her. Driving home after it was all over, she was still smiling and laughing. SHE had a great time.
Playfully ruffling my tussled hair, my girlfriend warmly said, “Thanks for being such a good sport, Miguelito.” Hmmmm.
Notwithstanding my imitating a wobbly toddler, we survived the missteps together. There are no dance contests in our immediate future, but we did manage to do some basic versions of the Lindy Hop. More or less at the same time.
OK, OK, maybe I’m exaggerating. MAYBE, just maybe, it was even a little fun.
But do me a big favor. Don’t tell anyone.
I wouldn’t want anyone to get the right idea.
Note: Michael’s surgical procedure is expected to last several weeks. Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated. Rmykl@yahoo.com