There would be a big band playing in my ballroom every weekend.
There would be all manner of great friends and acquaintances present having a terrific time, lots of seasoned dance partners and I’d be dancing every song until each muscle in my body burst with joy and utter fatigue.
I miss Glenn Miller. The late 70s…. in Vermont. The keen anticipation of a frosty Friday night after a rehearsal or performance, there we’d go, to the small pub on the hill, turn on the juke box to listen to Glenn Miller, Billy Strayhorn and Gene Krupa….dancing til the wee hours.
Boston in the 80s, seeking out live big bands.
Or earlier, in highschool, the Moose Lodge where my mother’s husband played in a big band, a mean saxophone and clarinet. Dancing, moving, caught in the beat, the rhythm, the happy vibe of it all.
Simple fun. Great fun. Big fun.
Maybe I’d alternate a zydeco band every other week in my ballroom….to use a different set of muscles…oooooh, stay tuned….I may be on to something!
For now, my bathroom is as good a place as any. And, my dogs dig the beat!
Sure they do!