Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Tunes like Acker Bilk's mellow Stranger on the Shore and Henry Mancini's moving Moon River remind me of my first slow dances with boys. At the age of 13, we were all terribly naive about anything romantic, but hormones were starting to shape our imaginations.
During after-school dance classes we learned the box step, cha-cha, waltz, jitter bug and other, choreographed dances popular during the early 60s. There were no gyrations or grinding and only kids that were actually going steady got close for slow dances. The rest of us kept a tense distance to ensure propriety.
I remember the dreamy thoughts I had after dancing with equally shy boys. They concentrated so hard on getting the steps right and not brushing too close to the girls' slightly-developing bodies that their right hands left sweat marks on the backs of our dresses. Of course nerves made the girls' hands equally moist.
THEN. . . in came the twist, monkey, mashed potatoes, froog, the jerk and other dance styles that involved flailing arms and booty shaking, but no hand-holding. I'll admit that they were fun, but they removed romance from dancing. Yeah, there were a few slow dances thrown in to let us catch our breath between fast dances, but it wasn't the same.
Now that I'm a middle-aged type, I think I understand why adults wanted us to stay pure as long as possible -- innocence never can be reclaimed once it is lost or stolen. How sad that today's children seem compelled to give it away so early.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Come rain, sleet or snow (all promised by the weather forecasters) I'll pick you up at the train tomorrow, Carolyn.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Every morning I enjoy a cold glass of orange juice and a hot cup of coffee.
I can choose a cool shower or a hot bath.
Clean clothes are the norm.
Several pairs of shoes meet my every need.
I learned to read and write years ago.
I cook for pleasure.
My door has three locks.
Health insurance is a given.
A machine washes my dishes.
A soft bed awaits me every night.
Transportation is a short walk to the garage.
I survived cancer.
Distant friends and family are a phone call or email away.
On a cloudy day I can turn on more lights.
When it rains or snows I can watch it from a comfortable chair.
My good fortune is magnified by a husband who loves me regardless of morning dragon breath and bed-head-hair. Wealth is not solely measured in dollars. I wish I could share my wealth with the man who lives next to the overpass.