Ever since Bree found out about inexpensive dance lessons at the Murray Art Center, we have found ourselves drawn back time and time again on the occasional Friday night.
We arrived with Bree’s parents to the lesson on East Coast swing just before it started. There was a fairly good turnout, with 10 or 15 couples, while the instructor was a fiery old guy with a thick Chicago accent. Having little to no skill for learning dance steps and even less for making them look good, the learning process was slow. I eventually picked it up, though, and with the advice of our instructor to “just be cool”, Bree and I were finally able to muddle our way through it (rather, I was able to muddle my way through it. Bree seems to have a knack for picking this kind of thing up).
After another hour of West Coast lessons across the street, we headed back over for the actual dance; always the best part of the night. While we are always one of maybe two or three couples within a five decade span of the other attendees, it is awesome to hang out and watch how well many people who can barely walk can actually dance to the live music of Tony Summerhayes. With their ballroom shoes and fancy dresses, us “kids” were totally put to shame at this waning art form.
Bree: Despite our lack of any real dancing skills whatsoever, I can’t help but be charmed by the old time feel of Friday night dancing to live music. It feels equivalent of taking a time machine back to a bygone era.