Embellishments

I love to dance. Specifically, Country-Western. Mostly, Two-Step. And, Line-Dance.

The allure of line-dance is doing the same movement within a group. There is something uniquely profound in moving your body in sync with many other people. You see how their bodies move, and, in return, you learn something about your own.

Traditionally, it is expected and appreciated for everyone to do the movement in unison, with as few mistakes, and embellishments as possible. It truly is enough just to do the choreography with other people, sharing that dance together.

My favorite line dance is "Say Hey." If the dance-floor is my church, then "Say Hey," is getting chosen to be saved, baptized, and reborn again, all in about 3 minutes. And that's what happened one night when the spirit or endorphins were flowing; I found the dance.

I hadn't done any Afro-Haitian dance since college, but suddenly, the back undulations, the open arms and stomping legs returned. You could say, I was in the moment, like an actor who makes a choice instinctively. Suddenly, there was something inside myself that desperately needed out. Don't get me wrong, I was still doing the choreography, just wildly so.

It was as close to a spiritual experience as I can attest. When the song comes on again, I can hope for another re-birthing, but I'm happy just finding what the dance is that night. Sometimes it's remembering the first time, sometimes it's finding something new, sometimes it's just about sharing it with others.

Another line dance, Texas Tango, was choreographed by Susanna Stein. She is one of the founders of the Big Apple Ranch. It's a beautiful dance set to "Music on the Wind" by Suzy Bogguss, which has a unique 5/4 time signature.

Last night they played Texas Tango, and I found myself dancing next to Susanna. I thought, "Wow, how often do you get to do a line dance right next to the person who choreographed it?"

Normally, I like finding little things I can add to a dance to make it my own. This time, I chose to hold back and honor the choreography. I enjoyed it just as much, simply sharing the dance with those around me.

3 Generations of Gay

Growing up, I suffered through comments along the lines of, "Oh, you make me feel old," or "Oh, I'm dating myself." It seemed a legitimate sport in small town Indiana. I was always polite in my responses, because someday, if I was lucky, I would share in that experience.

Tonight, our new roommate, Hasan, finally moved in. He's 22, a student and bartender. Very charming, and handsome, and full of enthusiasm. He invited myself, 29, and Nick, 25, to join him at Club Greenhouse for a night of partying:

"You should come! I've been to lots of bars and clubs, but this one is the best. It reminds me of how they described the best clubs in New York, like the one that used to be in a church."

Nick and I responded at the same time.

Nick: "Oh, Avalon."
Croft: "Oh, Limelight."

The humor was lost on them, and I gratefully discovered that those moments will go completely unnoticed if you refrain from pointing them out. Yes, I had been to Limelight before it was Avalon, and before it turned into a mini-mall.

But now I'm curious to the moments when others held back from me, refraining, as I did, to point out a difference I may not have fully appreciated.