Mondays with Niko: On Dancing at 70

     Here we are in our favorite cafe, doing what we often do, settling in to writing after a catch up conversation on how we we've been, our latest worries about our children, and, this morning, friends with cancer--prognoses not good. This is the day after the storm. Six, maybe 8, inches of snow and now bright sun, blue sky, great plops of snow falling from the pine trees, sloppy sidewalks', snow boots, scarves, and vests--in all, one of those winter-loving days that Coloradans are extremely boastful of--
     But today I want to talk about dancing at 70. I really do NOT want to go to my grave regretting that I haven't danced enough. So that's what I'm doing--mostly now in the form of NIA, an acronym whose words I can never remember, but having something to do with neuromuscular intergration--something very good for my body, mind, and spirit--a combination of dance, martial arts, and something else--Tai Chi, perhaps. I'm taking as many classes as I can fit in, given my schedule--but sometimes I can do up to 4 a week.
      This week, let's add ballrooom dancing lessons, swing and foxtrot. In preparation for Mary Kate+'s wedding, she and Jean-Hilaire are taking dance lessons and inviting others to do so also, so that they are used to dancing in the presence of others. Doug and  I joined mostly young people for a lesson in the chapel (of all places, but, oh well) taught by the ever-gracious, ever-patient talented Gabriel.  Doug did beautifully in his usual good sport way--not always entirely comfortable, but always willing.
     I first started dancing, I'm pretty sure, when I was in the third grade. I took tap, ballet, and acrobat--loved it all. Little did I know that my parents could hardly afford those lessons--and they did die out after a while, especially since we moved around so much. I also don't know why I was selected for the lessons--of the three of us girls--but I do remember Mother talking about trying to find me in the supermarket--and thereI'd be, dancing down the aisles. (Grocery store aisles are, by the way, eminently suited for sweeping gestures and great leaps from one end to the other.) My best lessons were in Corpus Christi, and I can't even remember the name of my teachers. But they were the best, by far, that I've ever had. I was talented, really, and loved dancing so much that I actually would practice at home. (and in the supermarket, down the street, in the school halls, at church)
     When we moved to Beaumont, I did enroll again--taking from Miss Miriam (Widman) and Miss Judith (Sproule). Something had changed, though. The classes were larger, we were at all levels in the same class, as new girl (throughout childhood I was always the the"new girl"), I didn't get the personal attention that I had gotten in Corpus. I faithfully did my recitals, however. My favorite tap was to "Shrimp Boats" (so fitting for the Gulf Coast); of course, as did many a 12-year-old, we danced the "Waltz of the Flowers" from the Nutcracker. The costume was beautiful--made by my Mother--of pink net and satin with flowers as our shoulder straps. In jr. high I danced to "Sentimental Journey" with a group of friends for a talent show. We wore blue skirts and white organza blouses, and carried suitcases--those beige looking ones with darker bands around them--the then equivalent of today's black suitcases on wheels--everyone had them.
     In high school, not so many dance lessons, but lots of dances--and the jitterbug was my favorite, but we also did the bop--and that was the time that lyrics began to change from "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?" to "Rock Around the Clock" and "Bip-Bam, Thank You, Ma'am'" Our parents were horrified.
    We lived on the Louisiana border, so, of course, we learned the Cajun Two-Step at the fais dos-dos.
    Over the years I've enrolled in ballet. It took me a while to come around to modern, a result of the influence (and prejudice) of my early ballet teachers. In Cedar City, I took dance from my yoga teacher, Terri. I suggested at that time that she think about starting a dance group for older women, but I think she thought the idea was ridiculous.
    Where I live in Colorado, however, the idea is far from ridiculous, and I have begun jazz lessons and am fascinated witha group of women whose company is known as Forty Women Over Forty--and that's my goal. Workshop in December, audition fror the show.