August and the number 20 trolley smells like humanity with a touch of ozone carried in on the wind that comes through the windows. The breeze is a blessing - August in the district is misery: a brutal combination of heat, humidity, and mosquitoes that, by comparison, almost make the company of the city's political inhabitants bearable. With the weekend comes liberation and a short ride north to a trolley park definitely is an antidote to summer-worn cares.
As the car bumps along, city blocks give way to cool woodlands. Soon the District is a memory; crossing into Maryland is like taking a cool shower. The car begins to slow and a invisible wave runs through the pre-teen set - some portion of the current that propels the trolley toward its destination has been diverted, just a large enough fraction to waken all the restlessness and excitement that's part of being a child. Somewhere just under the dower veil of adulthood the same excitement stirs, an echo of decades past that only becomes keener with each passing year.
The breeze flowing into the car has fallen to a gentle rush but even in its weakened state it carries harbingers of what lay ahead. The ozone smell has subsided to be replaced by the scent of popcorn and, with the rushing of wheels and wind out of your ears you hear the first evidence of your destination - a calipee jauntily playing t Souza. You collect your hat and jacket and wait for the aisle to clear.
Outside the air is a good dozen degrees cooler than it was on the platform back in the city. Some people talk about the concrete holding on to the heat of the sun and making city life akin to being a loaf in an oven but like everything dealing with weather those college intellects never seem to do anything about the issue. Talk just heats up the air that much more. From the trolley station you can see the gates proclaiming Glen Echo Park and heralding a slower, cooler place.
The sound of the carousel is louder inside the gates of the park - maybe the fence around the place marks off some kind of special boundary, a border inside which you lose twenty years of inhibitions. It mixes freely with the sounds of children laughing and playing. Worldly cares have no jurisdiction here. Past the parading, panted animals and the bumper car pavilion stands the old ballroom.
In the aging daylight, the red of the neon sign lends a salacious tint to the pavement. Beyond the gates kids are playing but every amusement park has a sense of the tawdry - fixed carnival games play at the edges of gambling. The ticket taker stamps you in and you leave the real world behind. Just down the curving path, passed the artist's yurts and the clamor of the bumper car pavilion stands the Spanish Ballroom and your destination for the evening. The crowd's already gathering and the above the clamor of voices and the blare of the calliope you can the band warming up.
Inside it's at least twenty degrees warmer. You can already feel the sweat trickling down your spine as you make your way through the crowds of chattering humanity hanging around the edges of the dance floor. The Spanish architecture seems appropriate in the humidity and heat of the night - there might as well be a bullfight tomorrow afternoon. You check your hat and stop to scope out the floor just as the band kicks off their first set.
A bouncy Fox Trot gets things rolling. Couples circulate by as a sampler of good and bad dance style, happy and serious faces, and then you see her. She's smiling politely but her eyes go to the floor shyly when they meet yours. The temperature jumps a couple of degrees - or maybe it's your heart pumping a little faster. You straighten your tie and try not to look like the neighborhood wolf as you approach.
She accepts your offer of a dance and her hand is soft and light. You lead the way onto the floor, slide an arm around her waist, and inhale the smell of springtime. The heat vanishes, the music softens, and your feet lift off the ground. A three minute dream is the best remedy for the heat. When the song ends summer will return but for the moment the weather's temperate and your heart is light.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sock Hops
No, that’s not a mistake; Gary and I actually attended two of these events over the weekend. As we were heading out for the first “hop” we visited our local Starbucks for a creamy beverage (it was a long trip). The twenty something window server asked us where we were going. When we replied “a sock hop” he frowned and said “heh?”
For those of you who don’t know: a “sock hop” was an informal dance in the 1950s, typically held in the gymnasium. Hence the socks, as most people did not have suede soled dance shoes; regular shoes could hurt the slick varnish.
OK. So Saturday night we headed to Nashville, In. to attend a sock hop at Mike’s Dance Barn, a venue we’ve enjoyed before. When we arrived the only people in 50’s garb were a couple of waitresses and…us. The Smooth Country Band took the stage. They were a little bit 50s, but mostly their usual country. As the evening progressed, the already small crowd dwindled to three couples. And as Gary said, we love an open floor, but when the band members start waving at you, well, the energy has pretty much left. To be fair, the venue planners expected a bunch of rockabilly people, but apparently they all left after the car show was complete. But we still had fun.
The next day was a sock hop and benefit for the Humane Society in Anderson, In., at the Paramount Ballroom. In previous posts we’ve raved about the place; one of the few historic small town ballrooms left. So that was cool, along with the fact that this charity is near and dear to our hearts. No band, but a great DJ playing the best of the 50’s. That era contained an amazing array of rhythms; swing, of course, but also foxtrots, Latin, and waltzes. There was a pretty good crowd, AND they dressed like 50s gals and guys. Some great dancers…we even saw a demonstration of The Stroll!
We received some nice compliments; I think most folks were most intrigued with the rockabilly swing. One older gentleman said that was the way he used to dance, “not like those other swings you were doing”, which meant the WCS and the ECS, since those were the “other swings” we did. What I believe he was getting at is that rockabilly swing is a faster cousin to what most people danced in soda shops in the 50’s. Here’s a pic of a soda shop scene:
I wonder sometimes what older people think when they see their high school days made into a “theme”. The man who complimented me (and thanked us for coming) had tears in his eyes. So that was pretty cool…not that I made him cry, but that I recreated something from his past that wasn’t kitsch or untrue.
It’s weird to think that the era I grew up in is now being used as “theme” parties; when I see kids dress up in sparkly disco stuff I have to laugh…no one wore that to high school. Fortunately or not, since I never learned to dance back then I don’t know if they are doing 70’s steps right or not.
In the 70’s some people did dance, but certainly not casually in soda shops. In the 50’s it seemed like more people danced just for the fun of it. Hopefully with shows like Dancing with the Stars it’s time for dancing to come around again. I hope so.
Oh…we bid on a cat carrier and won. Our kitty doesn’t like it, naturally. But it was for a good cause. The event had great food too. Here’s a pic of Gary and a root beer float. We shared. Two straws. Awwwwww.
One more gooey bit: Gary loves to dance as much as I do. He’s the one who started us on this wonderful adventure and also the one who many times gets me out there when I feel shy. Saying that, he is a huge Colts fan. Do you know what last Sunday was? Yep, the first game of the season. And we found out later they won. He missed it to go to this dance with me. Sigh. He’s dreamy.
For those of you who don’t know: a “sock hop” was an informal dance in the 1950s, typically held in the gymnasium. Hence the socks, as most people did not have suede soled dance shoes; regular shoes could hurt the slick varnish.
OK. So Saturday night we headed to Nashville, In. to attend a sock hop at Mike’s Dance Barn, a venue we’ve enjoyed before. When we arrived the only people in 50’s garb were a couple of waitresses and…us. The Smooth Country Band took the stage. They were a little bit 50s, but mostly their usual country. As the evening progressed, the already small crowd dwindled to three couples. And as Gary said, we love an open floor, but when the band members start waving at you, well, the energy has pretty much left. To be fair, the venue planners expected a bunch of rockabilly people, but apparently they all left after the car show was complete. But we still had fun.
The next day was a sock hop and benefit for the Humane Society in Anderson, In., at the Paramount Ballroom. In previous posts we’ve raved about the place; one of the few historic small town ballrooms left. So that was cool, along with the fact that this charity is near and dear to our hearts. No band, but a great DJ playing the best of the 50’s. That era contained an amazing array of rhythms; swing, of course, but also foxtrots, Latin, and waltzes. There was a pretty good crowd, AND they dressed like 50s gals and guys. Some great dancers…we even saw a demonstration of The Stroll!
We received some nice compliments; I think most folks were most intrigued with the rockabilly swing. One older gentleman said that was the way he used to dance, “not like those other swings you were doing”, which meant the WCS and the ECS, since those were the “other swings” we did. What I believe he was getting at is that rockabilly swing is a faster cousin to what most people danced in soda shops in the 50’s. Here’s a pic of a soda shop scene:
I wonder sometimes what older people think when they see their high school days made into a “theme”. The man who complimented me (and thanked us for coming) had tears in his eyes. So that was pretty cool…not that I made him cry, but that I recreated something from his past that wasn’t kitsch or untrue.
It’s weird to think that the era I grew up in is now being used as “theme” parties; when I see kids dress up in sparkly disco stuff I have to laugh…no one wore that to high school. Fortunately or not, since I never learned to dance back then I don’t know if they are doing 70’s steps right or not.
In the 70’s some people did dance, but certainly not casually in soda shops. In the 50’s it seemed like more people danced just for the fun of it. Hopefully with shows like Dancing with the Stars it’s time for dancing to come around again. I hope so.
Oh…we bid on a cat carrier and won. Our kitty doesn’t like it, naturally. But it was for a good cause. The event had great food too. Here’s a pic of Gary and a root beer float. We shared. Two straws. Awwwwww.
One more gooey bit: Gary loves to dance as much as I do. He’s the one who started us on this wonderful adventure and also the one who many times gets me out there when I feel shy. Saying that, he is a huge Colts fan. Do you know what last Sunday was? Yep, the first game of the season. And we found out later they won. He missed it to go to this dance with me. Sigh. He’s dreamy.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Madam Walker Theatre
Gary and I attended an event last Sunday with the Indy Swing Dance Club. It was a new venue for us, as well as a new club. The club’s website is below:
http://www.indyswing.org/
I’m not going to spend a lot of time describing this historic building, because I know Gary will do a much better job than I could. I did know some about Madam Walker before I went, and I also knew the theatre was fabulous, as I’d seen pictures of it.
When we arrived, multicolored animal faces greeted us from carved woodwork over the door, and more of the same lined the ceiling in the small waiting room area where the elevator was located. The ballroom was on the fourth floor and I grew more excited as the lights blinked one, two, three, four. We got off, rounded the corner, and….oh. It was nice; large wooden floor, big overhead chandeliers, but it wasn’t the 1920s grandeur I had hoped for. The era looked more 60s or 70s; the fixtures were those hanging crystal numbers you see in almost every 1970s homes albeit larger, and the mirrors surrounding the space were decided modern. Here’s a pic where you can see the chandeliers:
But we were there to dance. And dance we did. We had a great time and I saw some of the best WCS dancers ever. Now you’re probably wondering did they like it? Before I answer that I want to state very clearly that this club did a good job of saying who and what they are on their website. They are a WCS club; they spin a smattering of other types of music, but primarily WCS. And that's exactly what they played…a few nightclub beats, a couple you could rumba to, and Gary and I forced one ECS but it was really too slow. They also state their preference for exchanging partners (they believe you will get better only if you dance with lots of people which I don’t agree with but they were honest), and they encourage socializing after the dance; many go out to eat afterwards.
This social addition was exactly as advertised; the lesson was late and the dance didn’t start on time but no one seemed to mind, they were all chatting with one another. People were very friendly and some introduced themselves to us. The dance started off with the longest mixer I’ve ever seen…EVERY woman danced with EVERY man. Then about halfway through the afternoon the president did the usual announcements about upcoming events, but she also included information about so and so going through hard times, who had birthdays, etc. After almost every dance the DJ encouraged people to switch partners. And at the end was the dreaded forced mixer, The Snowball.
Again, this club was clear about what would happen at their dances, and that is the difference, in my opinion, between ISDC and the USA dancers. We didn’t know about the big start off mixer or the Snowball, but it did fit in with their stated culture. I think for people who want a social club along with their dancing it would be fabulous. In some ways their event reminded me of church; you go for the service, but many people also attend for the shared belief and camaraderie.
It just wasn’t for us. What Gary and I like is a happy medium; we don’t want to be stared at as if we don’t belong, but neither do we want an enveloping social atmosphere. We’re there to dance. At both of the clubs we are joined to people are friendly. But there are no forced mixers, and while there is birthday cake every month, life’s problems are not aired.
Perhaps this reflects where Gary and I are in life. It’s not that we mind making new friends, but we have a group of people that we love and are not necessarily looking for that as a goal. We also want our dancing to be an escape from the real world; we don’t want to bring our problems to the floorboards, nor do we really want to hear about others. That goes for religion or politics too.
I’ve quoted our favorite DJ, Ron Fentz (Indy Boogie Dancers), in other posts, but what he says before every dance pretty much sums what Gary and I are looking for in a dance club:
“Let’s dance.”
http://www.indyswing.org/
I’m not going to spend a lot of time describing this historic building, because I know Gary will do a much better job than I could. I did know some about Madam Walker before I went, and I also knew the theatre was fabulous, as I’d seen pictures of it.
When we arrived, multicolored animal faces greeted us from carved woodwork over the door, and more of the same lined the ceiling in the small waiting room area where the elevator was located. The ballroom was on the fourth floor and I grew more excited as the lights blinked one, two, three, four. We got off, rounded the corner, and….oh. It was nice; large wooden floor, big overhead chandeliers, but it wasn’t the 1920s grandeur I had hoped for. The era looked more 60s or 70s; the fixtures were those hanging crystal numbers you see in almost every 1970s homes albeit larger, and the mirrors surrounding the space were decided modern. Here’s a pic where you can see the chandeliers:
But we were there to dance. And dance we did. We had a great time and I saw some of the best WCS dancers ever. Now you’re probably wondering did they like it? Before I answer that I want to state very clearly that this club did a good job of saying who and what they are on their website. They are a WCS club; they spin a smattering of other types of music, but primarily WCS. And that's exactly what they played…a few nightclub beats, a couple you could rumba to, and Gary and I forced one ECS but it was really too slow. They also state their preference for exchanging partners (they believe you will get better only if you dance with lots of people which I don’t agree with but they were honest), and they encourage socializing after the dance; many go out to eat afterwards.
This social addition was exactly as advertised; the lesson was late and the dance didn’t start on time but no one seemed to mind, they were all chatting with one another. People were very friendly and some introduced themselves to us. The dance started off with the longest mixer I’ve ever seen…EVERY woman danced with EVERY man. Then about halfway through the afternoon the president did the usual announcements about upcoming events, but she also included information about so and so going through hard times, who had birthdays, etc. After almost every dance the DJ encouraged people to switch partners. And at the end was the dreaded forced mixer, The Snowball.
Again, this club was clear about what would happen at their dances, and that is the difference, in my opinion, between ISDC and the USA dancers. We didn’t know about the big start off mixer or the Snowball, but it did fit in with their stated culture. I think for people who want a social club along with their dancing it would be fabulous. In some ways their event reminded me of church; you go for the service, but many people also attend for the shared belief and camaraderie.
It just wasn’t for us. What Gary and I like is a happy medium; we don’t want to be stared at as if we don’t belong, but neither do we want an enveloping social atmosphere. We’re there to dance. At both of the clubs we are joined to people are friendly. But there are no forced mixers, and while there is birthday cake every month, life’s problems are not aired.
Perhaps this reflects where Gary and I are in life. It’s not that we mind making new friends, but we have a group of people that we love and are not necessarily looking for that as a goal. We also want our dancing to be an escape from the real world; we don’t want to bring our problems to the floorboards, nor do we really want to hear about others. That goes for religion or politics too.
I’ve quoted our favorite DJ, Ron Fentz (Indy Boogie Dancers), in other posts, but what he says before every dance pretty much sums what Gary and I are looking for in a dance club:
“Let’s dance.”
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Back With The Seniors
Gary and I made our way back to the favorite hangout of my parents, the Indianapolis Senior Center last Friday night. A live band was playing (The Blue Notes…they were good albeit only two played and the rest was recorded), and good snacks were to be had. Dancing, being with my parents and Gary, and snacks…doesn’t get any better.
And we did have a wonderful time. I danced with my dad, I danced a lot with Gary, and I so enjoy seeing my parents dance. We were complimented a lot, which via the bubble post you already know I think is nice but makes me really nervous. I guess when you are strangers, the youngest ones in the room, and dance fast you will get noticed.
A bittersweet moment came for me when an older gentleman came up to my table, patted me on the shoulder, and said, “you two remind me of me and my gal when I was younger.” He got a faraway look in his eyes and said, “you know, before I got bad knees and life’s problems intruded.”
Wow. As someone who experiences knee twinges herself, this was sad. But I decided on the way home that it didn’t have to be. I know for some people seeing older folks is depressing. I understand; after you’ve passed fifty you know deep down in your sometimes sore bones…and not just intellectually… that life isn’t forever. Being around seniors can remind you of this.
But it doesn’t have to be depressing. For one thing, some of these “oldsters” were keeping up with Gary and me…I saw some awesome jitterbugging and one couple literally burned up the floor with their polka.
Also, for me it’s not such a bad thing to be reminded to get out there now and dance. I can be a slug. Sometimes when I’m getting ready to go out I contemplate the couch and a big bowl of popcorn. But once I arrive the magic happens, even if the venue isn’t perfect.
I always want to have other things in my life besides dancing, but I also know that dancing, like life, isn’t forever. Today we’ve trying a new venue. I always get nervous before we attend a new place…will the people be friendly? Will they bug me to dance? Will we be stared at? Will we mess up? Where will we sit? And where is the bathroom???
But I will go. Taking chances, as Gary so elegantly said, is part of it. I don’t want to ever experience “what could have been,” especially not with my dancing.
And we did have a wonderful time. I danced with my dad, I danced a lot with Gary, and I so enjoy seeing my parents dance. We were complimented a lot, which via the bubble post you already know I think is nice but makes me really nervous. I guess when you are strangers, the youngest ones in the room, and dance fast you will get noticed.
A bittersweet moment came for me when an older gentleman came up to my table, patted me on the shoulder, and said, “you two remind me of me and my gal when I was younger.” He got a faraway look in his eyes and said, “you know, before I got bad knees and life’s problems intruded.”
Wow. As someone who experiences knee twinges herself, this was sad. But I decided on the way home that it didn’t have to be. I know for some people seeing older folks is depressing. I understand; after you’ve passed fifty you know deep down in your sometimes sore bones…and not just intellectually… that life isn’t forever. Being around seniors can remind you of this.
But it doesn’t have to be depressing. For one thing, some of these “oldsters” were keeping up with Gary and me…I saw some awesome jitterbugging and one couple literally burned up the floor with their polka.
Also, for me it’s not such a bad thing to be reminded to get out there now and dance. I can be a slug. Sometimes when I’m getting ready to go out I contemplate the couch and a big bowl of popcorn. But once I arrive the magic happens, even if the venue isn’t perfect.
I always want to have other things in my life besides dancing, but I also know that dancing, like life, isn’t forever. Today we’ve trying a new venue. I always get nervous before we attend a new place…will the people be friendly? Will they bug me to dance? Will we be stared at? Will we mess up? Where will we sit? And where is the bathroom???
But I will go. Taking chances, as Gary so elegantly said, is part of it. I don’t want to ever experience “what could have been,” especially not with my dancing.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
What a Shame about Me
Steely Dan released Two Against Nature, the album containing What a Shame about Me back in 2000. It's another cool, jazz-inspired riff on social discomfort, the creeping horror of getting older, and the inherent loneliness of being a human being. I love Fagan for the way he blends modernity with a certain 30's sensibility; for the way he crystallizes desperation, polishes it, and makes it sound groovy. Steely Dan's music is a mid-life crisis you can dance to.
This afternoon while listening to Pandora, I caught What a Shame about Me between stomping on work-related fires and I had to pause. Something in the lyrics spoke to me – there was something in the description of a guy worrying over glory past and missing life going on all around him. No, I don't think my life's passing me by. But there still was something there that held me transfixed until the music stopped.
Maybe it's because lately I've been talking to some good friends about the economy and the heartlessness of big corporations. Maybe it's thinking about how work can consume. I've been shouldering a lot of work lately, putting in late hours and traveling across the country to get this or that done on schedule. I don't know. Odd how obsessing over worldly things can disconnect you from the real world. What the hell does any of this have to do with dancing? Well, I'll tell you.
Last night we went to the South Side Moose for an Indy Dancer's weekday dance. It's not a historic venue (built in 1990) and it's got the same atmosphere of most Moose Clubs. When you put on your dance shoes you leave something behind. Maybe you check the worry you feel with your street shoes or something. Out on the dance floor the biggest thing to worry about is whether you're intruding on your neighbor's space and maybe if they'll play a song you really like. The world fades into the background and all that's left is your partner, you, and the dance.
So, maybe dance is therapy? Maybe it's like a shower that washes away all of the worldly ick and leaves you covered in sweat? Hard to know but I'm glad for it. I promise, I've got some good stuff from our trip to VA that hasn't hit the blog and I'll get it aired soon. Keep your eyes peeled.
This afternoon while listening to Pandora, I caught What a Shame about Me between stomping on work-related fires and I had to pause. Something in the lyrics spoke to me – there was something in the description of a guy worrying over glory past and missing life going on all around him. No, I don't think my life's passing me by. But there still was something there that held me transfixed until the music stopped.
Maybe it's because lately I've been talking to some good friends about the economy and the heartlessness of big corporations. Maybe it's thinking about how work can consume. I've been shouldering a lot of work lately, putting in late hours and traveling across the country to get this or that done on schedule. I don't know. Odd how obsessing over worldly things can disconnect you from the real world. What the hell does any of this have to do with dancing? Well, I'll tell you.
Last night we went to the South Side Moose for an Indy Dancer's weekday dance. It's not a historic venue (built in 1990) and it's got the same atmosphere of most Moose Clubs. When you put on your dance shoes you leave something behind. Maybe you check the worry you feel with your street shoes or something. Out on the dance floor the biggest thing to worry about is whether you're intruding on your neighbor's space and maybe if they'll play a song you really like. The world fades into the background and all that's left is your partner, you, and the dance.
So, maybe dance is therapy? Maybe it's like a shower that washes away all of the worldly ick and leaves you covered in sweat? Hard to know but I'm glad for it. I promise, I've got some good stuff from our trip to VA that hasn't hit the blog and I'll get it aired soon. Keep your eyes peeled.
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