By Neil Neilson, Dancemaster
I just wasn't thinking, I guess, because when I was introduced to a new student in one of my classes, I put my arms around her and hugged her warmly. "Welcome to the class, Harriet, and I'm sure glad to meet you!" I said.
She burst out crying.
It seems that in the 25 years since her husband died, nobody had ever put their arms around her or said a friendly "Hello there, I think you're nice!"
This is what ballroom dancing is all about--line dancing, country western dancing and folkdancing. It is fun and laughter through sharing.
Many thousands of people, like Harriet, don't really want to learn that you do step this way, and then that they just want to share in the fun and excitement of the evenings, the glamour and romance of wonderful tango, rumba and waltz music. It's moving with somebody that can help them enjoy the movement, the flow of motion and the togetherness of ballroom dancing.
I have known ballroom dancing as I've known a woman. When she answered to the name "Waltz" she was warm, flowing, laughing and gliding smoothly, fluidly moving to rhythm.
When called "Tango," she was vibrant, dramatic and strong)-yet, softly, phrased to their Argentine rhythm, her eyes flashing and breast rising and failing with the emotional interpretation of the intricate steps.
When called "Cha Cha Cha" she A-as happy, bouncing and smiling. Answering to "Bolero," she was passionate and sensuous, with desire and emotion smoldering in her dark eyes. She was named "Cotton- eyed Joe," and with lusty laughing voice she kicked her high-heeled boots at the sawdust covered floor. She leaped and pirouetted with her smile wide and large, and warm as the steam rising off the newly barned cows at milking time on an early morning.
When did you hold a woman in your arms and dance just for her pleasure and enjoyment? When did any partner ever smile after a dance and say, "That was a wonderful dance, I enjoyed it. Thank You!" And you felt the same way, too? Hmmm?
I know an Irishman named Patrick and he loved polka. Years ago, he was one of my favorite pupils and he loved to laugh and dance, and enjoy the moment at hand. At age 105, he died. At his funeral they played a polka in his honor. We had to beat his feet to death before we could bury him because his feet started dancing the polka all by themselves from automatic reflex. S'Truth, so 'Elp me. Ask Neil Clover, he'll back me up.
Moral: Let's keep sharing our fun, and the excitement of ballroom dancing; and let us start by telling everyone about National Ballroom Dance Week this September. Let's get a lot of new people interested, especially the young. Let's never forget the "young at heart" - those wonderful people over 60 who still have stars in their eyes.
