By Pam Mellskog
Like a third-rate Santa dealing with an overly excited youngster on his lap at the local mall, my oldest son picked my 10 fingers off his shoulders one by one recently. As in, “No, thank you. … Don’t touch the merch, please.”
Carl and I loved dancing together when he was little. But now that we stand eye to eye, he does not love dancing with me. So, I somehow must woo my high school freshman into becoming a dance party dynamo again — a reliable stand in for his dad who takes forever to warm up and dance both at home and at wedding receptions for family and friends.
So far, it’s not looking good.
Could it be that the disco music I danced to around Carl’s age then needs to grow on him now?
As we cleaned up the kitchen together after dinner Monday, I played Donna Summer’s “Last Dance,” which debuted in 1978. I prefer her 1999 VH1 Presents Live & More Encore! televised performance these days, FYI. Either way, back in the day this campy music gave all of us — kids dancing in gymnasiums under streamers to adults dancing at night clubs under glittering disco balls — a workout minus the clock watching.
“… I can be sure that you’re the one for me,” Donna sings in her soaring contralto voice with lovely falsetto departures. “All that I ask is that you dance with me, dance with me, dance with me. …”
And we danced with her then and sang along, too. It was good clean fun. A party for everyone. A time to forget your troubles, pick up your feet, and shake your booty a bit.
But for some unfathomable reason, my boy Carl preferred to load the dishwasher rather than dance with me this week to the Queen of Disco’s hit parade.
“Mom,” he said, giving me a look. “No way.”
Well, everyone has a right to personal space. But I am his mother, and I’m not giving up because dancing, in my book, comes with a long list of benefits beyond a good time on Saturday night — especially in the midst of all the current pandemic related restrictions, uncertainties, and heartaches. Dancing gives us one more way to fight the blues — be they as widespread as all that or as personal as the devastation of a divorce or some other deal gone bad.
It inspires a closer listen and an invitation to respond physically, even if just with a toe tap. In an instant, music provides organization in the midst of any chaos you might bring to the floor. Everyone can find the same footing, more or less, and anyone can accept the open invitation to improvise — to move in ways far afield from walking, running, cycling and even playing sports with more freewheeling footwork, such as basketball.
Sure, dancing is good for your body. But it’s probably even better for your brain to plow new motor pathways, to skip out of movement ruts. Just making space for someone else — pulling that wall flower into the circle or allowing yourself to be pulled — is good for the soul.
How good it will be to hold hands and dance again with those outside our household bubble.
As for that chicken-and-egg question — Does a happy heart cause happy feet, or do happy feet cause a happy heart? —it depends. And who cares? It’s all good, which is why I need to issue a standing invitation to dance with my boys — now ages 14, 12, and 10.
Tradition calls!
Like so many little kids, I learned how to dance on the tops of Dad’s feet. He would turn up the radio and grab my hand when Charlie Rich’s 1973 recording of “The Most Beautiful Girl” or The Carpenters’ 1971 hit, “Top of the World,” played.
These songs and others guided us across our kitchen floor in Wilmette — a northern Chicago suburb. And I floated as a kindergartener then above his fancy footwork with no worry of stepping on his toes.
Even better, if Dad felt especially glad, he sang along in his resonating baritone voice. I learned the words as we danced and sang along with him.
These dances meant so much to me then because for the better part of two years — from 1971 to 1973 — my dad worked all week at the new Aqua Camper houseboat factory he co-owned across the state in Galena, Ill., the little town that became my hometown.
He came home on weekends, but slept at the factory during the week with only Thor — our German shepherd — to keep him company after staff punched out.
Now, I appreciate how much dancing in our kitchen with Mom and me helped all of us celebrate his homecomings.
I suspect Carl will appreciate this joy more when, post pandemic, he no longer spends every moment with us family members. Then, perhaps distance will make his heart grow fonder, and he will agree to dance with me — especially if he gets to pick the music.
Pam Mellskog can be reached at p.mellskog@gmail.com or at 303-746-0942. For more posts and photos, please visit https://ift.tt/3eAN3Zg.
"time" - Google News
November 21, 2020 at 08:16PM
https://ift.tt/391W0Kq
Mommy Musings: Time to find your happy feet - Longmont Times-Call
"time" - Google News
https://ift.tt/3f5iuuC
Shoes Man Tutorial
Pos News Update
Meme Update
Korean Entertainment News
Japan News Update
Bagikan Berita Ini
0 Response to "Mommy Musings: Time to find your happy feet - Longmont Times-Call"
Post a Comment