to be published in SENTINEL newspapaer: Young At Heart July 29, 2021
By Peggy Pollard July 19, 2021 I sauntered up to his table, bouncing my step to the twangy music from the band on stage. I offered my right hand to the hefty, grizzled man, sitting under his big cowboy hat, arms crossed. I flashed him a friendly smile and nodded toward the small group of dancers. “Care to dance with me?” He glared at my hand, stone faced, pointedly NOT moving a muscle. I moved on. Next to him sat a lady in a plaid shirt. She giggled at my extended my hand. “No, but ask her,” she pointed at a woman across the table. “She loves to dance.” The confidence in my smile dimmed after these two rejections. But I continued around the table, my white-fringed cowboy boots clicking on the cement floor. The stocky lady in tight jeans stared blankly at my proffered hand. She blinked. Indecision swirled inside her. She looked up at the band, the dancers, then back down at my hand. She blinked again. The anxiety on her face melted into a smile. She stood up and placed her hand in my open palm. We stepped across the big, scary threshold of fear into the wonderful world of partner dancing. This was my first time in 17 months to do in-person social dancing. It felt glorious. The country western band at our “Hoe-Down” event belted out rockin’ songs of American freedom on electric guitars. A hundred attendees chowed down on lunch plates heaped with barbecue chicken and baked beans. A dozen dancers bounced to the music in front of the stage. This is as gloriously American as we can be. I led my skittery partner up to the dancing, turned and faced her. Wide-eyed, she smiled with nervous exhilaration. After 18-months of pent-up COVID stress, our faces glowed with relief at being back in actual human society. I swiftly evaluated our situation. She didn’t know me, I didn’t know her. By her timid hand grip, I instantly surmised that, like most of the people in this big white tent, she had no partner dancing skills. No matter. I quickly calculated, adjusted my lead temperature down to “Safe and Cool.” I offered my left hand to connect in a safe, distant double-handhold. I initiated our dance launch -- big, gentle, generous arm motions and a slow triple-step Swing Basic. As good leaders do, I gave such super-obvious lead gestures that she couldn’t help but either —follow it intuitively —or completely ignore my lead to do whatever she wanted -- in which case, I readjust myself to go with that flow smoothly, thus making it near impossible for her to mess up. Happily, I’m able to turn whatever renegade dancing she gives me into a harmonious partnership. To turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. A good lead knows how to do that. (because my goal after all, is for my partner to enjoy the dance not be freaked out by a flashy stranger In white fringe cowboy boots) All this decision making happened in a half-second flash. Then, with very loose hand pressure, and kindergarten grade moves I commenced bouncing my hands to the rockin’ rhythm . easing us into a synchronized partnership. I swayed and launched into sideways triple-step Swing. She swayed thusly with me for a few phrases of music. Feeling good, I lifted one hand to initiate her Under Arm Turn to the LEFT. She turned RIGHT. I quickly recalculate switched my hand direction to match her turn. She slowly stepped around. We rejoined hands A big grin lit up her face. We repeated this pattern for the rest of the song. At the end, we thanked each other politely, both of us satisfied to have partnered so well. Phew. I was glad to see my 18-months-dormant lead skills had sprung back to life again so quickly. Anyhoooooo . . .I turned to the remaining audience smiling in their seats, watching us. . . . I found another partner who was eager to jump up and dance, ready for some fun. But I could instantly tell by her non-responsive handhold that she likewise had no clue how to lead or follow. No Problem. I can jump into lead role, without her even knowing what she, or I, are doing. I simply, subtly, give gentle confident guidance for each step. My next partner, an easygoing young man, gratefully let me guide him through a couple of moves as well. A trusting smile lit his face. A few partners later, the crowd now dissipating, the band began winding down from Country Western, segueing into more of a Power Rock vibe. I beckoned with my hand to first one, then another of a lingering group sitting at a table. One woman nudged the big man next to her in a blue checkered shirt. “HE really wants to dance,” she prompted He smiled sheepishly, arose and took my hand. He was a big bear of a man, with a grip to match. As he took my other hand in rough strong hand, and began leading I could feel he did have a sense of basic rhythm. A good sign. But, typical of many beginning leads, he also had a too-tight hand squeeze. Begining dancers trying so SO hard to get their feet moving right, sometimes don’t even realize what their hands are doing. I sensed his nervousness, but knew that his willingness to dance, with his friends looking on, was quite fragile at that raw moment. I knew what he needed was lots of encouragement, not any criticism ( like most beginner dancers.) Men, especially, often have a great fear of being embarrassed in such social dance situations. They feel a responsibility to take initiative, in the spotlight to show off their expertise, but unless they are VERY confident in their skills, most instead just refuse to step onto the dance floor for fear of embarrassing public failure. So weighing the great opportunity to encourage, vs. the chance my hand would be crushed, I chose the first. The importance of that critical moment, to encourage this tiny spark, blow a little oxygen on it, to let our public successful dance experience could fan that fragile spark into a bigger flame, instead of snuffing it out by dampening his tender happy vibes with with an ill-timed wet blanket comment. We ended the dance, with sweaty smiles and happy “Thank You’s” for getting each other back in action. . . . A few partners later, my last dance ended with another new dance friend. We exchanged sweaty smiles and thanks for sharing the musical joy together. Likely I will never see those dancers again. But all of us that day shared an important moment—stepping across that lovely threshold back into the wonderful world of human hand-to-hand dancing together. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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FOOT Notes from Teacher PeggyAuthorPeggy Pollard has been teaching social/ballroom dance in Santa Cruz since 2010. Archives
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