Dancing Is Antidote To Rain, Aging

The invitation to Ally and Teresa’s affair made it clear.

This would be a dance party. For grown-ups.

It would be, the invite said, an ” … opportunity to drag a reluctant partner out into the crushing cold to dance like demons in the night.”

This I had to see.

So I went to the Woman’s Club Saturday night. And after ducking in out of the rain and saying hello to Teresa — a woman I barely know but have always liked — I pounded down a cup of apple juice and turned to face the music.

There, out on the treated wood floor, a couple dozen people were dancing to the recorded sounds of “Money for Nothing.”

Smiles were evident.

The music was loud but not punishing. And the atmosphere was dark but not bat cave.

A whirling device up by the deejay on the stage sent small dots of colored light throughout the hall.

The attire for the evening ranged from a tie-dyed shirt to some smart, snug little dresses that probably had been waiting in the closet for just such an occasion.

There was some good-natured laughter during a respectable attempt to stick with disco choreography during “The Hustle.”

And everybody looked glad to be there while dancing to the Beatles’ “Twist and Shout.”

And why not? Compared to the commands most of us hear all week, “Shake it, shake it, shake it baby, now” is a pretty cheerful instruction.

I had intended to make a few notes on various dancers’ styles and perhaps even poke gentle fun at the less graceful.

You know, “One baby boomer boogalooed with moves unrefined since junior high … ” Or something.

But here’s my report: Every single person out there on the dance floor was great.

Sometimes, before you can have a good time, you have to be willing to try. You have to summon the courage to overcome shyness and shed self-consciousness.

A person able to do that doesn’t deserve to catch grief from someone sitting on the sidelines.

By the time the deejay played a slow one by Eric Clapton, there were maybe 50 people out on the floor.

Most couples grabbed a hold and gently swayed.

For a moment, it seemed hard to imagine that these were people with graying temples and mortgage worries. They seemed so young.

But that was just a dancing mirage.

If you looked closely, you could see. Those men and women out there on the floor certainly weren’t kids.

But moving to the music, their arms around someone special, they looked happy.

Sometimes, on a rainy Saturday night, a party is just the right thing.