Happy New Year!

Eighty years ago (well, actually it’ll be eighty years ago next New Years Eve, but let’s not get technical about things), this little film snippet was captured. Like today, revelers rang in the new year with hopes it would bring an end to the fiscal crisis that gripped the United States and the world. 1933 had been a momentous one. On the positive side construction on the Golden Gate Bridge began, The Lone Ranger radio program began, and FDR took office. But The Dustbowl and the rise of Hitler foreshadowed many difficult and dark years to come.

So, in our little film snippet we see an eddy in the stream of time. It’s a joyous moment that stands in stark contrast to the realities of the time. Maybe that’s what every New Year’s celebration is, an island of hope amid a sea of sometimes contradictory fact. I raise my glass, hoping that 2014 won’t be like 1934.

So, gloom and doom out of the way, what does 2013 hold for Blue Suede Souls? What are my resolutions?

Well, firstly I resolve to spend more time writing to you. 2012 was a hard year for me when it came to writing and I let my contributions to the blog slip. I’m lucky to have Kelly to keep things going here! No more of that though, shoulder to the wheel young man and let’s get this blog rolling again!

Secondly, I resolve to seek out new and interesting dance experiences, and to share them with you. We’ve maintained our routine and added some interesting dance experiences in 2012 and I’m hoping to make 2013 even more adventurous. We’re learning the American Tango, Swango, and Polka and, no doubt, those will take us to some fun and interesting venues.

 Finally, I resolve to keep growing and changing as a dancer. Dancing isn’t a destination, it’s a journey. I think Kelly put it best when she said that she used to think you learned to dance and then just did it. Now we both realize there is no limit to what you can learn. You can focus on ballroom or club dancing, on vintage or modern dancing, on regional or international dance styles and you’ll never know it all. It seems to me that all you can truly promise is to keep an open mind and keep searching.

So, happy 2013 everyone! Kiss the one you love at midnight, sing Auld Lang Sine, and take a turn around the dance floor. Make the new year better than the old one and you’ll never look back with anything but fond memories.

Christmas Eve!

Here it is, Christmas Eve. I remember how my family would gather on this day. I huge collection of cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents jammed into a tiny house. We ate, talked, ate, played games, ate, and finally exchanged gifts. After the buzz died down and the wrapping paper had been cleared away the evening would get quiet. An air of expectation would settle in, listening for sleigh bells, and the gathering would break up. I can remember taking one last look at the Christmas tree before going to bed and imagining what might be under it in the morning. It was a kids Christmas, before the cares of the world supplanted worries over whether the right action figure would be under the tree in the morning.

Things got more complicated as the years passed. Relationships with the family grew more complicated, there were bosses and jobs to worry about, the politics and cares of the world, and the simple joys of childhood got a little lost. Still, in spite of it all, the holiday wonder survived. Still, this night, I’ll stop for a moment and that warm feeling will come back.

Here's to those who can't or won't be sharing their holiday with their friends and families. To paraphrase Bing's words, may next Christmas see you all home, with the ones you love, sharing a cup of yuletide cheer. Merry Christmas to all of you, may you be blessed and may your truest Christmas wishes be fulfilled.

 

Christmas Dance One, Two, Splat

This post was originally going to be titled 'Christmas One,Two, Three but it didn't exactly turn out that way.

Holiday dance number one was a fun-filled evening put on the The Brickyard Boogies...I mean really, all the cookies you can eat plus dancing to Ron's fabulous mix? Doesn't get any better than that. Picture of us below:

 

Our second holiday dance was a true extravaganza thrown by the Indy Dancers...the decorations, both inside and outside the space, were truly enchanting. Here is a view of the outside lights from our table and then a picture of us:

Last Friday we were supposed to go to another holiday dance. We arrived ready to swing, but alas, the owner of the studio met us at the door saying it was cancelled. As we trudged back to the car, me all spangled and eyelashed and Gary freshly showered and spiffed, I could have been upset. But with two wonderful holiday events already attended and New Year's Eve gala just around the corner, how could I be?



On the Second Day of Christmas

Two days to go and all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth…at least that’s all Spike wants.

The Third Day of Christmas...

Three days until Christmas and I'm longing for snow. I look at the street scenes in this video and I remember the snows of my youth. I still get that "school's closed due to the weather" feeling whenever a good snowstorm blows through. Here's hoping someone out there is having a lovely white Christmas! But, snow or no, I hope it’s a merry one!

Santa Clause is Back in Town/Blue Christmas

It looks like we're going to have a white Christmas and that's definitely worth a Santa Clause swing.

Last night we went out for what would be Christmas Dance number three only to be disappointed. We arrived at our favorite ballroom to find three cars in the frozen parking lot. I think at that point I knew we wouldn't be dancing, but we pressed on and went inside. The dance had been canceled without notice, leaving us feeling blue about Christmas.

So, two weeks without a dance begins. Nothing but private practice sessions between now and New Years Eve. Here's wishing you all a swinging Yule, I hope all you kiddies get a genuine rock-n-roll guitar and brand new blue suede shoes. Let's hope the new year shakes, rattles, and rolls in all the right ways.

On the Fourth Day...

From the 1940s through the mid-50s you might have ended a hard work day with settling down in front of a warm fire and the soft glow of a Philco model 48. While the snow rattled against the windowpane you might have tuned in to a variety show such as The Railroad Hour. Programs like this provided relief from the hard world, filling the darkness with musical dramas, comedies, and popular songs.

 As the name implies, The Radio Hour was sponsored by the Association of American Railroads. Singer-actor Gordon MacRae starred in scripts by Jean Holloway, Jerome Lawrence, and Robert Edwin Lee while Marvin Miller fulfilled the role of announcer.  During the show’s run Doris Day co-starred with MacRae in No, No, Nanette and Jane Powell co-starred in Brigadoon. Other offerings included The Desert Song, Holiday Inn, The Merry Widow, The Mikado, Naughty Marietta, Show Boat, Song of Norway, State Fair, The Student Prince, and The Vagabond King.

With four days ‘till the festive night, I offer you thirty minutes of 1950's broadcast of the Railroad Hour. It's good old fashioned entertainment with tones and sentiments that remain warm in spite of the chill of modern technology. Here’s to memories of the soft hum of vacuum tubes with their magic glow and the scent of a low-burning fire in the hearth. Snow closes out the outside world and you’re safe and warm on the sofa with someone you love. Take a deep breath and relax.

 

Buddy Clark: Merry Christmas Waltz

Snow is blowing through town today, drifting and swirling around the windows and moaning in the trees. Makes me think of the Merry Christmas Waltz. Buddy Clark, made his big band debut in 1934 with Benny Goodman's Let's Dance radio program then performed on Your Hit Parade until 1938. He had a top-20 hit with the song Spring is Here in the mid-30's but didn't have another until the late 40's.

In 1946 Buddy had his biggest hit with the song Linda. By chance the Linda of the song was the (then) six year old daughter of Clark's business partner Lee Eastman. That girl would later grow up to become a musician, spokeswoman for vegetarianism, and wife of Paul McCartney.

Clark's career hit its stride in 1947 when he produced  the hits How Are Things in Glocca Morra?, Peg O' My Heart, An Apple Blossom Wedding, and I'll Dance at Your Wedding. In '48 he had a major hit duet with Doris Day entitled Love Somebody as well as nine other songs that hit the charts including solo pieces and duets with both Day and Dinah Shore.

On October 1, 1949, as the 37 year old Clark's career continued to soar, he perished in a small plane crash while returning to Los Angeles from a Stanford vs. Michigan college football game. A month after Clark's death, his recording of A Dreamer's Holiday hit the charts.

Five Boughs of Mistletoe

Five days to go, a mere work week before homes are bustling with relatives and everyone’s worried whether the feast will come off, if uncle Hershel is going to be a dweeb, and if mom will like her gift. Take a deep breath, my friends, we’re heading for the plunge!

On this sixth day I give to you mistletoe, evergreen in the boughs of the winter-bare trees and a sign of life, fertility, and rebirth. Mistletoe didn’t become popular as a Christmas decoration until the 18th century. According to custom, it must not touch the ground between its cutting and its removal as the last of Christmas greens at Candlemas. Mistletoe can remain hanging through the year as a charm against lightning or fire, until it is replaced the following Christmas Eve.

Ancient Christmas custom holds that a man and woman who meet under a hanging of mistletoe were obliged to kiss. This custom was described in 1820 by Washington Irving in his The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon:

 "The mistletoe is still hung up in farm-houses and kitchens at Christmas, and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the berries are all plucked the privilege ceases."

So pluck a berry or not, but spend a little time under the mistletoe with the one you love and enjoy a quiet moment before the yuletide hubbub descends. You’ll be thankful later!

Six Days and Counting!

On the sixth day of Christmas I send to you a half-dozen holiday cards filled with the warm greetings and love of those closest to you. Hopefully you’ve gotten a few invites to yuletide dances this Christmas season. Enjoy the revels, lose yourself in the merriment, and drink a cup of cheer to the season. Christmas is a time for togetherness, for remembering the friends and family that make us merry, so forgive the small stuff and avoid the Christmas blues.

On the Seventh Day...

Seven days to go, that’s just one week to deck the halls, trim the tree, and wrap up something for your sweet someone. This is about the time I find myself checking the weather reports and hoping for a blanket of snow to dress up yuletide. Unfortunately it doesn’t look like my wishes for a white Christmas will get fulfilled, at least not this year. In honor of a green Christmas, and as my day seven gift to you, here’s a nice dance tune from the 40’s entitled Little Jack Frost Get Lost…

On the 8th Day of Christmas...

With only eight days ‘till Christmas gold ol’ St. Nick needs every bit of help he can get. So it’s eight elves a-helping today.

The Ninth Day of Christmas...

Nine days to go and nine Santa Clauses are on the march! Well, at least the Santa Claus March is my gift to you. This obscure two step was composed by Fred Vokoun in 1907. Vokoun is a mystery, in fact my search turned up nothing about him aside from the fact he composed the Santa Claus March in 1907 and that he dedicated it to "Wm. J. Schwarz of Boston, Mass. (A Prince of Good fellows)". The publisher of the Santa Claus March, the Sam Fox Publishing Company, was located in Cleveland but from the websites I checked, nothing else has been discovered about Mr. Vokoun.
So, my 9th day gift is a mystery, just like a neatly wrapped package under the Christmas tree!

10 Days and Counting...

Ten more days, I hope you’ve got all your gifts or you could be facing the crowds and the insanity that is last-minute shopping! My gift to you? This image of Wabash Ave. in 1947 shows hundreds of Wabash, IN shoppers looking for that perfect something. Maybe someone in this photo just bought a nice pair of dance shoes?

The Mayflower Ballroom, attached to the Terre Haute House hotel would have been located at 7th and Wabash and the house band (heard on the attached video) surely would have been playing Christmas favorites of the era like White Christmas which came out that same year

The 11th Day of Christmas...

Oh yea, oh yea it’s the big Charleston contest and the 11th day of Christmas. It’s a Wonderful Life, love or hate it, is a staple of the yuletide season and this year Kelly and I went to The Artcraft Theatre in Franklin, IN to see a screening of Capra’s 1946 tale of the long-suffering George Bailey. It’s a Wonderful Life is one of the movies responsible for my desire to dance. I remember many a Christmas time sitting home and watching the Charleston contest scene and thinking, gee it must have been great back when people did that sort of thing…


Eventually the chance presented itself and, what do you know; now I actually do a few Charleston steps! Haven’t fallen into any swimming pools or taken home any loving cups lately but there’s still time. So, my gift to you on the 11th day of Christmas is the wish that all your dance-floor spills land you in the middle of a magical bit of moonlight strolling and maybe the love of your life. Now sing along with me, “Buffalo gal won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight…”

Twelve Days and Counting...

Ah, twelve days ‘till Christmas kiddies, are your stockings hung by the central-heating unit with care? It’s been a fine year of dancing and I have to say I’m lucky that my dear wife Kelly has been good enough for the both of us – otherwise I’d have a sock-full of the black stuff this holiday!


See, I’ve been a bad boy. I’ve forsaken my sworn duty to write my little missives for Blue Suede Souls this year. Blame it on changing jobs, blame it on computer viruses, blame it on the rain if you like…whatever the case, I’ve been remiss and I’m sorry.

So, to make it up to you I’m doing a little shopping – twelve gifts to you, one a day for twelve days culminating in the Jolly Old Elf’s big day. Yes, I know that the real twelve days of Christmas actually start on the 25th and run through January 5th, but by then all you’ll want to do is clean up the blasted wrapping paper and not hear another carol until next December. I figured it’s best to strike while enthusiasm is high, the eggnog spiked, and those sugarplums still doing their nightly jig.

My first gift to you, my friends, the soft glow of vacuum tubes and the mellow tones of the Henry Hall Dance Orchestra bringing you a Christmas broadcast from 1932. Enjoy, oh and just put the wrapping paper in the big bag by the tree if you don’t mind…

Yeah, dancing can do that...

Happy Holidays!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Scandalous!

This is our national season of discontent. Election time is a time of bitter partisanship, a time of sniping, innuendo, bitterness, suspicion, and vitriol. Yes, the facts that on Tuesday, November 6th, 2012 Americans will go to the polls, cast their vote, and go home without fear for their safety and without fear that the country will fall into anarchy based on the outcome of the national election. Regardless of your personal misgivings, there will be no tanks in the streets, barricades of burning tires, or rock-throwing protesters in the streets. We’ll all go on and in a month the politics will die in the dust and we’ll go back to our lives and personal issues.

Many times I seek refuge on the dance floor. It’s a safe place, a fantasy zone where all is music, harmony, and the one I love. In an ideal world the dance floor is about order, it is a universe in miniature, orbits within orbits. In reality, though, the dance floor is much more like the real world.. There are dancers who do the West Coast Swing to a samba, those who do a travelling dance while most people are doing a slot dance, and those to whom the beat is just a suggestion to be ignored as they see fit. To those who would say the electoral temperature and disharmony on the dance floor are both symptoms of the unraveling of society, I offer two tidbits:

The election of 1828 pit Andrew Jackson, a man famed for his temper who had participated in several duels, against John Quincy Adams, a man falsely accused of playing pimp to the Russian czar and misappropriating government funds for the purchase of a pool table. The conflict between the two candidates became so heated that, after arriving in Washington for his inauguration, Jackson refused to pay the customary courtesy call on the outgoing president. And John Quincy Adams reciprocated by refusing to attend the inauguration of Jackson.

The waltz was introduced to England sometime between 1790 and 1812 and was brought to France when Napoleon’s triumphal soldiers returned from Germany in 1805. As the first closed position dance done by aristocracy, the waltz gained a scandalous reputation. After all, dancers actually embraced, holding each other so close their bodies and even faces touched while they danced. Women were thrown around exuberantly, something considered immoral and even sinful at the time. In England, Anglican archbishops denounced the waltz as “a lust-inducing, decidedly degenerate action to be left to those hot-blooded, silly foreigners.”

So what should a level-headed person make of these examples. Maybe that the good old days weren’t always all that good and that today’s “scandal” will be tomorrow’s humorous footnote, For me it simply means that this Tuesday, after I’ve cast my vote I’ll step onto the dance floor and I’ll try to appreciate the ordered chaos that is dancing and our nation and simply marvel at the fact both continue unscathed in spite of all the so-called experts’ predictions of perdition and woe.

Halloween 2012

We didn't do anything special this year for Halloween, but then, every Halloween is special, especially when you're dancing. :-) Here we are at our two local dances, the first at Indy Singles ( we went as space people),

the second is at Indy Dancers of our favorite costume.

On to more holiday dances!!!!!!

Dancing: The Long Haul

The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be,

Ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be.

The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be,

Many long years ago.

You know that one? My mom used to sing it to me when I was a baby.

It happens to us all, getting older. In general I’m OK with it…you kind of have to be, right? We all have things that bother us as the years pass. My biggest challenge is losing physicality; I’ve been athletic all my life.

A few weeks ago Gary and I watched a young couple do the Lindy Hop the way we want to do it…lots of moves that involve hanging from arms and lunges that require low knee bends. These are out for us…I have shoulder problems and Gary’s knees are often creaky. Could we still do those moves? Yeah, but we might injure ourselves to the point of never dancing again. Not worth the risk.

What I'm trying to do as I get older is internalizing that although there are some things that go away, other things are gained. So... there are a million moves I can't do, but there are a million moves I CAN, such as focusing on techniques a younger version of me wouldn’t have had the patience to learn, like Argentina tango flicks and kicks.

After the young couple danced I went over to their table and told them how good they were and how much we enjoyed watching them dance. The man looked at me with wide eyes and said really? We loved watching YOU, you guys are fabulous.

So there you are. Acknowledge the past, appreciate it in others, but always remember to be the best you can be…right now.

'Cause It's Never Too Early...

Tiny Bubbles

Gary and I just returned from a trip to Clear Lake, Iowa, dancing at the famous Surf Ballroom. What a treat. For those of you who dance, you know there are just not that many historic old ballrooms left. And if The Surf isn’t, as Gary would say, a grand old lady, she certainly is a frisky teen.

The décor is an over the top 50-esque idea of a fantasyland, and it really does feel as if you’d entered a mermaid’s domain: giant painted ocean murals ring the space, carved fish on every booth, blue tiled bathrooms, and best of all, a mirrored ball that projects millions of little bubbles over the dance floor.

The Surf could use some work. The wood floor needs to be redone. Badly. And the whole place has an overall tired quality, as if its better days were long past. We met some nice people. One man was surprised we’d come all the way from Indy to see the ballroom. And maybe therein lies the problem. Even with dancing enjoying a new resurgence, it still isn’t the“go to” activity  it once was.

I hope The Surf  survives. But if it doesn’t, I’m very glad I got to see it.

More KAG

Gary and I went to a roller derby bout last Saturday.

I used to watch roller derby when I was a kid after the cartoons were over, secretly longing to be a jammer; hey…I can skate, I’m small and quick. But alas, although competitive, I’m not aggressive enough to be a true roller gal. But I sure did love watching them and always wanted to go see them in person.

The stars aligned last Saturday, and they (The Circle City Socialites) were every bit as good as I hoped. The vibe is kinda retro, kinda punk rock/hip hop, kinda pin up gal. It’s a real competition, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously like other teams sports…with names like Splena Rupture and Miss B. Haven, how could it?

What I love most about it is those girls are SO themselves…they have team colors, but every player  accessorizes to her own tastes. There are rules and established plays, but they all have their own signature moves and “going to the box” (the penalty corner) is something of a badge of honor.

That’s how I feel about our dancing. Gary and I know the basics of the dances we do, but we have constructed our own style. People may love it, people may hate it, but they can’t say it isn’t us. Nobody does it like we do, and of that we are very proud.

I bought a tee shirt that says “Good Girls go to Heaven, Bad Girls go to the Box.” Yeah.

Signed,

Kelly KaBOOM

Back to the Triple Two

About a year ago I wrote about the triple two step, a country-ish traveling dance. Gary and I worked some moves from it into our foxtrot and then kinda forgot about it, because at the time we were learning a form of vintage foxtrot. We liked the vintage fox trot, but we didn’t love it.

So we took a video of triple two step to our fabulous teacher Melissa and said as we always do, take a look at this video. We want to learn this, and oh yes, we’d like to mix in Texas two step moves and a sprinkling of foxtrot. Without a moment’s hesitation (did I say she was fab) she replied with a twinkle in her eye, so what will we call it? Foxy Triple? Texas Trot? Haha. She SO gets us.

So Melissa looked at the vid (posted below), and has already integrated some Texas two step into it along with some foxtrot moves. The triple two is fun…it’s smooth, with a slight hop while you are tripling.

So far Gary is liking Texas Triple Trot for the name. Hummmmm…sounds like a drink you’d consume at the Kentucky Derby.

A Girl Post of a Different Color

I’ve always loved movies with Kick Ass Girls...with an important caveat.  A girl kicking an ass, (or multiple asses), in my book must actually look as though she could, you know, kick them. Many actors chosen for these roles are very pretty, but I just can’t see those flimsy arms and legs knocking down anyone. My benchmark is Angelina Jolie in the first Tomb Raider movie.

So it was with some trepidation that a friend of mine introduced me to Gina Carano in Haywire. The minute she walked, no strode, onto the set I knew she was an athlete. I didn’t know until afterwards that she is a world renowned mixed marshal arts champion. The movie itself wasn’t as good as Tomb, but I am betting she could kick Ms. Jolie’s ass high and wide, and understand, I love Angie’s Tomb fight scenes with an almost religious fervor.

I usually don’t like boxing, kick boxing and their ilk in real life because it is so violent, but a choreographed movie score, that’s different. OK, I’m seething mass of inconsistencies. Anyway, as I watched the movie and then you tube vids of Gina, I noticed something. Despite all the face punching and floor mauling, the movements are beautiful. Dancer-like. Dare I say Argentina tango-like in some of the arabesques and kick turns. In the end, I loved that fighting can be beautiful, just like dancing can be athletic; two sides of the same coin. 

I think Gary was a little scared when I told him I just might incorporate some of those lovely kicks in our Swango. Heh heh. Be afraid.

Here’s a you tube vid of Gina doing her thing. It is violent…be warned. But it is also breathtaking.

Magnetic Nail Polish: Girl Post

Summertime is when my fashion magazines make their biggest appearance…I read them all year, but there are only so many I can consume immersed in water via my winter soaks. When I spend a day on my deck, it’s morning until dusk, so there is plenty of time to discover new beauty trends.

My newest discovery is Sally Hansen magnetic nail polish. Not magnetic as in a magnetic personality (although you might be headed that way with this stuff), but really magnetic, as in the polish has metal bits and the lid is a magnet.

You know how sometimes you wish someone would invent panty hose that didn’t run or a pair of jeans that fit everywhere? Or how you could have glittery stars floating around you that whirl at every step? Ok, that’s just me. Anyway, many new beauty products are improvements on existing items or things I’d wished for. This polish is so unexpected. First, who comes up with ideas like this??? As creative as I like to think I am, my brain never would have thought of it.

It works just like it says…paint it on, hold the magnet over your nail for a few seconds, and poof, nails that appear moonstone-like with soft ripples of color. Incredibly beautiful, easy, and not expensive, about 6 bucks.

Good job oh nameless one working at Sally Hansen. Now get going on those floating stars.

PS. It says use two coats. It’s pretty thick so I used one coat (with a clear base) and it worked just fine. The metal bits tend to settle or maybe I’m a slow painter, but I needed to shake the bottle a couple of times to keep the metal in the mix, so to speak.

Spandex and Cream: Girl Post

Gotcha.  :-) Sorry, no dance porn here.Spandex as in hose, cream as in cleansing cream.

Let’s start with the cream. As I’ve said so many times, dancing is an odd sport because it requires a prettiness quotient…at least for most people. For my hair I want it to look nice, but I’ve bowed to the notion that my dancing hair works best shoulder length or above, and I’ve allowed my curls freedom, because exercise makes it curl no matter what I do anyway. The added benefit is styling is easy.

I do, however, want products that keep those curls from bouncing out of control without turning my do into helmet head. I use a taming gel (with subtle sparkle) Got2Be Cosmic Shimmer, and various types of flexible hairspray. That’s a lot of goop. I end up shampooing more than I need to because of that…curly hair is drier.

I didn’t think much about my shampooing routine…I use whatever is on sale followed by an equally inexpensive conditioner. For the most part shampoo is shampoo…read the ingredients. Then I discovered a new product by L’Oreal called cleansing hair cream. Let me stop here to say as long as a new beauty innovation can be found in a drug store or on eBay I will try it. It’s fun, and who knows, maybe it will be a new fave. So I thought hey…cleansing cream. Might not be as drying. So I found some on eBay and gave it a shot. It’s about 6 bucks but I now have coupons for it, and you don’t need conditioner.

Wow. It cleaned the goop and left my hair soft and with better defined curls. Curl construction is crucial; we of the curly hair know that our locks do not curl uniformly…there are always a few places that go rogue and other spots that flatten. At least for us white girls. My Puerto Rican friend’s hair always looks perfect, although she bemoans other problems with hers; I guess we are never happy with what we have. Anyway. I usually have to touch up with a curling iron, but with this stuff I do way less of that.

Moving on the the spandex. I am not a hose lover. In the winter when dancing I mostly choose an above the knee stretch skirt with tights. In the summer I switch to slightly longer skirts and bare legs. That worked great until Gary and I started doing lifts and dips. Teacher teacher I declare…haha. So I needed hose. I tried a bunch of kinds which either cut me in two around the waist or bagged around my knees. Yuk. “Dance” hose I hated even more…it makes your legs look pretty and it is almost indestructible, but it’s also hot and opaque and oh so obvious. Then I discovered Spanx. It has underwear in it so no VPL, an added bonus. It is sheer as a whisper and therefore not hot and it practically disappears. It covers, um, any imperfections and so shorter skirts are now a summer option, and the panties look like shorts so when I’m flipped nothing shows.

They are not cheap, almost 30 bucks a pop. I found them on eBay for 12 to 15. Still WAY over what is decent to pay for hose, but I figure a pair a month can be budgeted. I’m rationalizing by saying I’m saving on underwear. Did you know most people can’t make it through one day without at least ten juicy rationalizations? Spanx comes in a variety of skin tones, grey and black, and black with stripes and dots. Also they have tights. Sadly, no stars, skulls, or multicolors. Yet. A girl can hope.

The Cubanola Glide

The Cubanola Glide

Sometimes it's amazing how modern an old tune can sound. You're looking at the cover of the Cubanola Glide, a rag written and published by Harry Von Tilzer with words by Vincent Bryan in 1909. The cover's nothing to speak of, it kind of reminds me of all the Hawaii and South Pacific themed covers that were common through the twenties when the wealth of the stock market boom allowed average people the opportunity to travel the world. Cubanola features a simple sea view with potted palms and what might be El Morro Castle in the background. The whole thing is done in a questionable green, but I guess all things tropical should be green.

Harry Von Tilzer

Von Tilzer holds a special place for me since he's a local boy. He was born in Goshen, Indiana and at the age of 14 ran away to fulfill every boy's dream of joining a traveling circus. Harry was a successful calliope player and he wrote new tunes and incidental music for the shows. Once he left the circus, he wrote and played for Burlesque and Vaudeville shows. In 1898 he sold his song My Old New Hampshire Home to a publisher for the grand sum of $15, and then watched it become a national hit that sold over 2 million copies. Bolstered by this success, he began writing professionally. 

In 1900 his tune A Bird in a Gilded Cage became one of the biggest hits of the age and Von Tilzer became one of the best known Tin Pan Alley songwriters. In 1902 Von Tilzer formed his own publishing company, where he was soon joined by his younger brother Albert. 

Harry Von Tilzer's other hits included Wait 'Til The Sun Shines Nellie, Old King Tut, All Alone, Mariutch, The Ragtime Goblin Man, I Love My Wife, But Oh You Kid!, They Always Pick On Me, I Want A Girl (Just Like The Girl That Married Dear Old Dad), And The Green Grass Grew All Around, and On the Old Fall River Line among others. Harry died in New York City on January 10, 1946. 

I managed to find a version of the Cubanola Glide by Arthur Smith. It's nice to actually hear a piece. So many times you're left with the cover image and no idea of what it might have sounded like. I imagine there was a Cubanola Glide dance too, but I couldn't find any videos showing the steps. I guess sometimes the past keeps her secrets.

I'm Gonna Let the Bumble Bee Be

Initially I chose I'm Gonna Let the Bumble Bee Be because it had nice, sort of summer-themed cover art. Then I found that the song had been recorded by Harry Reser's Six Jumping Jacks (a personal favorite) in 1926 and that the lyric features a mention of the month of May so I had to get it on the site before the 31^st! So here you have a nice, comic, jazz song of the 20's with ukulele accompaniment no less. 

I'm Gonna Let the Bumble Bee Be was written by the duo of Little Jack Little and Addy Britt, a pairing of tow prolific if somewhat mysterious talents. According to Wikipedia's tiny article, Jack Little was born in London, moving to the US as a child and growing up in Waterloo, Iowa. He took pre-med at the University of Iowa and played in and organized the university band while there. A much more comprehensive article on Jack can be found at The Vintage Bandstand. Addy Britt's name appears on numerous pieces, but my admittedly brief search of the web turned up nothing in terms of biographical information. 

The cover of Bumble Bee is impressive. Apparently a fellow's got good reason to let the bumblebees be, they're freaking seven feet tall! The lyrics are pretty simple: 

Took a stroll one day in the month of May,

Through the park I chanced to stray,

Saw a bumblebee buzzin' round a tree,

So I buzzed right away.

Now, a bumblebee buzzin' round a tree,

May appear to be a friend,

But review this song and you'll find you're wrong,

'Cause he'll get you in the end.  

I'm gonna let the bumblebee be,

I'm gonna let the bumblebee be,

A bumblebee will buzz,

But that ain't all he does!

And I ain't the fool that I used to was,

I'm gonna let the bumblebee be!

The Surf Ballroom

After a hiatus of dance travel due to Gary's new job, we are off!!! Well, not until August. We are making the trek to Iowa to the famous Surf Ballroom. Sadly, some of the fame is because the Surf was the last place three rock and roll legends played before their plane crashed, killing Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson.


But music and dance goes on, as I'm sure they would agree. More on this later. We’re so excited
!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


 

Raleigh Community Dance Club

This afternoon, while planning for the evening's dancing at the Raleigh Dance Club, I came across this piece from the Banner. Kelly and I were dancing the night they came to do their report and today I just happened to stumble upon the video.

I've said before how special I think this place is. The lovely couple being interviewed mention ballroom dancers with a note of awe, but I think it's more impressive to see a place like Raleigh, IN holding a Saturday night dance for 75 years. Nothing fancy, nothing extravagant, just dancing the way it's meant to be.

Tonight they're having their annual 'salad supper', a benefit to keep the community center open. Kelly and I will be there dancing and enjoying the company of genuine people doing what they love. Who could ask for anything more?

Follies of 1919

I’ve always had a fondness for the Ziegfeld Follies covers. It goes with my love of art nouveau, I guess. It helps that many of the costumes worn by Ziegfeld’s chorus girls were designed by Erte, an influential nouveau artist. The Ziegfeld girls "paraded up and down flights of stairs dressed as anything from birds to battleships. The Follies were reviews, essentially high class Vaudeville variety show featuring some of the era’s top entertainers.


This cover comes from the 1919 Follies, held at the New Amsterdam Theatre in New York, NY. It featured Eddie Cantor, Marilyn Miller (of Evansville, IN), and Bert Williams and included the tune Tulip Time. I’m guessing the bird theme of the cover means that the chorus girls spent some time wearing feathers during the show. Nice cover, maybe not dance related, but nice none the less.

This particular post combines a couple of my favorite things, old buildings and old music. I found a photo of the New Amsterdam Theater with the Follies posters. I took a look at the modern building, but it looks like it's been stripped of its nouveau charm. So many things are 'improved' to make them less than what they once were.

Dolores and Eddie

I’ve always had a fondness for Normal Rockwell. Art snobs will tell you he’s not a good artist, insisting that there’s some difference between what’s good and what’s popular. Frankly, that sounds like differentiating between what’s good and what you think is good. Preferences are like certain bodily orifices: we’ve all got them and most of us don’t want to hear ‘em. Anyway, this isn’t the dance curmudgeon hour so back to the topic at hand.


I ran across this image from Rockwell and immediately fell in love with it. Something about the expressions, I think. They’re wearing the flat busted and tired look of two hoofers who’ve washed out too many times in too many places. Anyway, I thought I’d share.

The Prom

I didn’t go to my high school prom. My recollections of those days are rather fuzzy…I tend to delete memories that don’t make me happy…but I do remember an awkward young woman who didn’t think she was pretty or talented. No wonder no one asked me…I wouldn’t have asked me.

Fast forward many years. I believe in myself. On most days. I’m married to the best guy in the world. We’ve found a fabulous sport that keeps us active and together. So what did I need a prom for?

I didn’t need it, but I did very much enjoy the Indy Singles prom night last Saturday evening. It wasn’t fancy, but the music was good, the people friendly, and the food delicious. When they passed out corsages I found myself feeling a little misty. When Gary escorted me to our table I felt it even more. We danced the night away in the midst of decorated trees filled with twinkling lights.

You can’t go back. It doesn’t do any good to wish you were something you weren’t, or mourn for how things could have been. It would be nice though, to give my 16 year old self a big hug and tell her things are going to work out just fine.

More than fine…wonderful.

Cheek to Cheek

"Dance with me

I want my arm about you
The charm about you
Will carry me through to


Heaven, I'm in Heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek"

Irving Berlin wrote Cheek to Cheek for the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie Top Hat (1935). The song was nominated for the Best Song Academy Award for 1936, which it lost to Lullaby of Broadway. Astaire's recording of the song spent five weeks at #1 on Your Hit Parade and was named the song of 1935 and it’s been recorded numerous times by a variety of artists since its debut.

I love the cover of this piece of sheet music for its dance theme but I have to admit it’s not exactly imaginative. Doubtlessly the publisher was relying on Astaire and Rogers’ images to sell the sheet music and the prominent placing of the movie title tied the piece back to the movie. I guess it does look a little like Fred is more concerned about what the audience is thinking than Ginger, but I've seen a lot worse!

Prom Time

June is coming and with it the time when flowers and young love bloom. June is prom time, the goodbye to the old high school and looking forward to a college career or job. In a way, I guess prom is a dress rehearsal for a wedding. The young couple all gussied up, swaying to the music. For me, prom brings back memories of a rented tux and bad music. I don’t remember where the event took place but I do remember the prom’s song was something by Phil Collins that I’d be embarrassed to listen to now. This is why all proms should be held once you reach the age of about thirty. It would keep you from wearing a pink cummerbund or slow grooving to Sussudio.
I did a little research on the origins of the prom. According to Time Magazine, the prom’s origins can be traced back to the co-ed banquets that 19th century American universities held for each year's graduating class. Youth culture moved the prom into the teenage world and by the 1940s the prom as we know today had taken hold with its themes and corsages.

Tomorrow we’ll be participating in another, more recent phenomena: a second chance prom. We’re heading to the Indy Singles prom to enjoy a simple banquet and a little dancing. There’s something nice about the adult version of the prom. There’s no peer pressure, no king and queen, and no being an awkward wall flower. But the biggest plus is that I get to dance with the girl I really love.

Same as it Ever Was

You know me and my (near) constant rants about dance etiquette. Well, if you don't, let me acquaint you. There's a shortage of manners on the dance floor. I'd be showing my age if I added "today" to the end of that last sentence, and now I know it'd be inaccurate too. I ran into a lovely blog called Etiquette Hell today and, behold, the top story was about dance etiquette!

I'll give you one picture from that blog but I recommend you pay it a visit for a full read.

I know these people...

Yes, at least as far back as the fifties there were dance clods. I think they probably existed back in the Paleolithic era, stomping on bare feet and treading in the camp fire. Yes, that's Og, you don't want to be near him when the mastodon dance starts.

White Lightning

Friday, May 4th we took a little trip to Nashville, IN and Mike’s Dance Barn for a rendezvous with Mr. Terry Lee and his Rockaboogie Band. There’s something about the spring, all that raw energy in the atmosphere. Doubly so on Friday. There was the usual tornado at the ivories in the form of Terry and the gale-force wind of his band mates, including a new guitarist who’s holding his own very nicely. Then there was the weather, a downpour that might have left Noah a little concerned.

As always Terry Lee’s band rocked. The floor at Mike’s was a little (okay, a lot) slick but Kelly and I both agreed that we would have a great time seeing Terry even if we couldn’t dance. It's amazing how the condition of the dance floor changes the muscles you use while dancing. When the floor's right, you feel the effects of dancing in your legs while, when it's slick, you feel it in your back and feet.

Indy Dancers Anniversary Dance

Happy 29 years, Indy Dancers! The annual celebration was at the Ritz-Charles this year, very nice. Looking forward to next year's big 30.

Warning: Girl Post

Glitter, glitter everywhere and not a drop to stick. OK, bad misuse of a quote. But glitter is a problem. Not a huge, earth shaking problem. More like an annoyance.

I love glitter in all forms…on my clothes and shoes, in my hair, on my skin. If I had my way I’d sparkle head to toe every time I went out. Unfortunately, looking like a giant disco ball would stand out in my Midwest locale, and I don’t really like that sort of attention.

But dancing is different. First, lots of people like sparkle, so I wouldn’t be the only one. Second, people are staring at you anyway, so why not dress exactly as you want? So I do…including glitter. The problem with most glitter is that by the end of the evening it’s everywhere. Gary is a very patient man, but I’m not sure he enjoys glitter on his face. Well, he doesn’t mind on New Year's and Halloween. And there are times I would like a more sophisticated application.

I found it…Ben Nye Aqua glitter. It’s stage makeup. Stage makeup is designed for buying in huge quantities so it’s not expensive. A lot of it is heavy, although companies like Ben Nye are changing this imagine by adding lighter formulas. In any case, hair glitter isn’t pancake makeup so I tried it. Instead of a spray it goes on with a little brush. I put some on…it sparkled brilliantly! Then I shook my head. Nothing. I worried a little. But…it crumbled out easily, and when I tried running water over a strand it dissolved away…the “aqua” part of the name. Duh.

It comes in a myriad of colors…I chose copper because I thought that would blend nicely with my hair. I’m thinking about some others though. Ben Nye is available on eBay, and lots of other places on the web.

Glitter on.

Roll Out the Barrel

Dancing is a unique activity for so many reasons; it’s a sport, but a glamorous one. There are dance forms, but improvisation makes each dance truly your own. It is a representation of one’s own expertise and taste, but individual skills and musical preferences are most definitely combined with your partner’s. That last one can be the hardest to maneuver around; partnered dancing is well, partnered.

A good lead and follow are obvious signs of accomplished partnered dancing, but there are so many other things to consider: does my bling get in his way and vice versa? Do our individual expressions match? Should they? What’s our style anyway? If one person wants a formal ballroom style and the other wants funky, that isn’t going to jive. Or rumba or cha cha, hahaha.

Luckily Gary and I see eye to eye on style, and we are very considerate of each other when it comes to personal additions. Where our differences lie is in our musical tastes, and for us, music dictates what dances we love.

We do have similar musical dislikes; for example, neither cares for slow ballads. One of our clubs plays Lady in Red just about every time we go…Gary and I simply sit it out, and all others of that ilk. We most likely will never learn Night Club Two Step because we just don’t like what you dance it to.

If I had to sum up our “like” differences, I would say I learn toward the minor key and Gary toward the major. I love what minor chords represent to me…mysterious, languid, sexy. I also love polyphonic layering. For musical styles, that translates into Latin and middle eastern music, for dance that would be cha cha, salsa, rumba and WCS, at least, the way we dance WCS.

Gary loves what he calls happy music; rockabilly comes to mind, that big, bouncy, happy beat that sets your toes tapping and says get out there dude, and DANCE. He loves all varieties of swing for that reason, and the foxtrot too. I think for him these dances are American nostalgia at its best, whether that is the Lindy hop or a vintage foxtrot.

If I had learned to dance as a single woman, I’d have probably gone straight to Latin and spent my dance years at salsa clubs, Gary, most likely, would have happily swung the night away. But something wonderful happened when we flexed to our partner’s preferences. I can’t say that I love the foxtrot…I’m working on it. But I do love rockabilly swing! You can’t be sad dancing it. And going to see and dance to Terry Lee and the Rockaboogie band is one of my favorite things to do. It’s because of Gary I appreciate all things lindy hop and vintage dancing too.

As for Gary, if he doesn’t love the cha cha and salsa, he appreciates them. I think he’s proud he’s learned them. Gary didn’t grow up with music like I did, and learning to hear the dance beat when bathed in polyphonic rhythms is hard. I think it’s also difficult for Western men to let go of “hip swishing” as bad…and let me tell you, Gary now does a mean Latin sway. He also has very much enjoyed adding tango moves to our WCS…the Madden WCS is very different from how most people do it, and I know he loves our unique interpretation.

So that brings me to our latest dance addition. We’d agreed on not adding any more new dances at present because learning jumps and dips is rather a form unto itself. But then I noticed Gary talking about Oktoberfest, and how cool that would be to go. After that came hey Kel, take a look at this Weird Al vid…all polkas. I may be a bit thickheaded, but I think I get it. :-)

If I was resistant to rockabilly music, I was more resistant to polka. I don’t hate it, but, um, polka? Really? Traditional polka looked rather like horses galumphing across the plain. But I tried it. And guess what…I loved it! Like rockabilly swing, it’s exuberant and joyful. And I realized it’s not so much galloping as prancing. Gary and I laughed and laughed during our first lesson and our teacher Melissa did too…you can’t NOT laugh while doing it She said all cultures have some kind of polka-like dance…even my beloved Latin. We’re both looking forward to going to an Oktoberfest this year and doing some polkas…that will be fun.

The best thing, though, will be seeing Gary’s ear to ear grin.

Tricky

Over the last few months Kelly and I have been focused on learning dips and tricks for East and West Coast Swing. It’s an interesting process, learning what you can and can’t do and testing limits involves, by definition, failure. Failure is the limit, it’s the unknown point where your body won’t perform or your ability to adapt to a new move is so taxed that downside overwhelms upside. At times like that I find myself asking if I really want to spend three months trying to learn a drop that I’ll use maybe once in a whole night’s dancing. Often I find that my time would be better spent learning a more basic and versatile step that I can incorporate often or use to get out of sticky situations on the dance floor but the siren call of the trick always remains.

So, what is it about tricks, drops, and dips that makes them so alluring? Why, as a dancer, do we want to potentially smash our partner’s face into the floor or permanently damage our shoulders and backs for a trick? Maybe it’s the flash of specialness, the split second when everyone in the dance hall looks your direction, collectively taking a shocked breath before being brought back from their suppositions that disaster has struck and realizing you meant to do what you did. Someone once said any star who tells you they don’t like being gawked at is a liar and I imagine the same goes for dancers. I mean, admit it, if we didn’t want to be looked at we’d dance in our kitchens, not in a ballroom or club.

I think there’s an element of human DNA at work too, especially when young singles are involved. For millions of years mankind has been engaged in various sorts of mating dance. Sure, it might not sit well to think of strutting your stuff on the dance floor as a way of advertizing what you have to offer to the opposite sex. We’re thinking animals, right? Well, to deny dancing is a way of advertizing ourselves is to deny half of that statement. We do think but we are animals too.

What about me, though? I’m married and middle aged and though I like to think I impress my wife with my ability to dance, I think the desire to learn tricks means more. For me I think this is the little league that I never had growing up. It’s my sport, my chance to get out there and compete – something that’s odd since I’ve got no interest in contests or medaling. Still, when I get a complement it feels like I’ve put one in the “W” column.

I’d be remiss, though, if I didn’t at least gripe a little on the subject of tricks. While the ups of doing a trick are minimum, they’re like toppings on a burger – put too many on and you’ll never be able to pick the sandwich up without making a mess of things. Likewise, if you stuff your dancing with tricks it doesn’t look like a dance anymore. Suddenly what was flowing to the music becomes jerking and posturing while a band plays in the background.

Also, there’s the issue of when to do a trick. The other night we were at a crowded dance when a guy decided to do a breakdance shoulder spin. The move cleared space but I guarantee most of the people who saw the move weren’t impressed – they were irritated. It was a stupid and dangerous decision to pull a trick that wasn’t designed for social dancing in the middle of a social dance. I’ve promised myself never to be *that* guy.

Butt Bounce

No, this blog has not suddenly switched directions. :-)

In a previous life in a large corporation far far away I helped people understand personality traits, explaining they are neither good nor bad, but they are linked. So, for example, if you decide you want to marry a CEO type you must realize that person will most likely never put you first. Choosing a powerful leader isn’t “bad,” but you have to accept what comes with that.

Gary and I have been learning and doing complicated and possibly dangerous dance “tricks” for over a year. We’ve been very careful to select ones that fit our blended physicality and the social arenas where we dance. We are learning them under expert tutelage (Melissa...our beloved instructor at Fred Astaire South Indy).We also try not to do them when either of us feels tired or distracted.

Up until last weekend I’ve never fallen while dancing; I’ve tripped, stumbled, and done a floor spin once where people thought I’d fallen, but never a real spill. I took one last Saturday night. It wasn’t spectacular, but I did bounce once on my butt. What happen was we spun during a lift just a little too hard and so I put my feet down on a floor that was still moving…didn’t work.

A dance fall is a little like being pregnant…you get lots of stares, a giggle or two, sympathy, advice, and expert opinions on keeping it from happening again, all of which is mostly unwanted and wrong.

But that’s the way it is. If you fall you’re going to be in the public eye big time. And if you do tricks someone’s going to fall sooner or later, and if you’re the follower it’s most likely going to be you.

Embarrassing? Yeah. But I noticed the comments were from people who I’ve never seen do a dance trick. I’m not saying Gary and I are better dancers, but we aren’t afraid to take risks.

So…I dusted myself off with as much dignity as I could and listened and nodded to all who stopped by. In a way it was a relief. I’m sure it will happen again. Now the ice has been broken. By my butt. :-)

Doom, Gloom and a Silver Lining

Please tell me I’m not the only one. It seems if I like something…whether that be a food, a beverage, lipstick, shampoo, jeans, shoes…they quit making it. Examples: Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific shampoo and I know you can get it on eBay but it costs a fortune, or the style of Sketcher shoes I like it’s a good thing I have multiple pairs, and on and on. I’ve dealt with these little annoyances over the years and have come to understand if I like something it’s doomed.

But now the gloves are off; my beloved Argentina tango shoes are no more. At least, they are no longer available at the place I used to get them. I don’t know what happened, but the shoes they now say are “tango sneakers” are not the kind I have loved and worn for three years. I’ve had such a struggle with my dance shoes and now that I’ve found ones that work for me they are gone??? I wrote to the company…where are my shoes???? No reply. Maybe my hysterical email scared them. Crazy American shoe lady. But this is bad. Very bad. I dance a lot and wear out my shoes, and last year’s are about worn through. I get two pairs a year. Hey…you replace running shoes every 6 months.

So. I am researcher by training and nature, especially when I’m motivated. Especially when we’re talking about dance shoes. First discovery: I found that the place I bought my sneakers actually got them from somewhere else. The name brand of these shoes is Fabio. (Perfect name.) They have a store. In Argentina. They have a website. In Spanish.

Discovery two: I found some other Argentina sites that do sell Fabio shoes and have an English option. And I now have a greater appreciation for the original place I purchased my sneakers. The old place could be, um, quirky, ”these shoes will make your fingers grip the floor” or the occasional “we are out of blue you may have silver”, but overall I was very happy with the service. And the shoes. The new sites give quirky a whole new definition: “we can't guarantee the color OR the fit.” Heh? Color is one thing, but you can’t guarantee the FIT? And of course, sending them back to Argentina is about 35 bucks, and who knows how many times you’d have to mail back and forth if they can’t guarantee the size? Seesh.

Discovery three: there are no dealers in the US that sell Fabio, except for some dance schools and they mark them up. I understand. Dance schools have to make money. But I need to keep mine.

Discovery four: I found a store in Canada called Guaranteed Fit Tango Shoes. They had my beloved Fabio sneakers, and do indeed guarantee the fit as long as you return them clean, although I knew I wouldn’t need to. They ended up being cheaper than the old Argentina place because the shipping was only around 15 bucks. And they arrive in about two weeks as opposed to over a month. You can also earn 5 bucks off your next pair if you review them. They were not exactly like my original ones…the heel is one centimeter higher…but close enough.

The only bad thing? They come in black and… black. SIGH. Don’t get me wrong, black is my color of choice, but dang, a girl needs some bling. Lucky for me I’m handy with the fabric paint. I ordered two pairs and decorated one with silver and the other with a golden copper. On the Argentina Fabio site the sneakers come in a blinding array of colors, prints, and levels of sparkle. Drool.

Whew. At least I have my shoes. Although now I’m worried. I like this company…

http://www.guaranteedfittangoshoes.com/