1966 - The Dancing Less Fortunate

Mom died a few years ago and I haven't done any ballroom dancing since but it remains as one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. I watch "Dancing With The Stars" kinda like mom watched any ballroom show aired. Their styles of dance are far more disciplined and energetic than anything I ever did but I know enough to know whos hitting their marks and who is not. Mario Lopez is my granddaughter's cousin so, of course, we had to watch... got me hooked. Still think he shoulda won.

1966 –The Dancing Less Fortunate

I started ballroom dancing when I was 11. Mom was a huge fan of the Arthur Murray Dance Party, which was a ballroom dance TV show. Mom decided she wanted to learn to dance in ’59 and she talked dad into taking lessons at Dale Dance Studio. A year later she had not only learned all the studio had to teach but they offered her a job as an instructor. Dad appeared to be a much better dancer but it was mostly because he didn’t care about style or rules and he just danced. Technically, mom was better. Mom cared about the steps and the straightness of the back, the pointing of the toes, the extension of the arm. She followed the rules and performed every dance like a pro. She was honored and excited to be asked to teach. She accepted and went to work on the Dale schedule. Within very few weeks she realized this was taking her away from home, and her family, every night and soon tendered her notice. They called several times as she was a popular instructor but, although she had grown to love both dancing and teaching, she didn’t waver – her family was more important. Within another year she had hung her own shingle and become an instructor on her own. This way she could organize her own time and only take on the number of students she desired, limiting herself to 3-nights a week with a Moose Club session and 2 private group sessions. As mom & dad were members of the local Moose Club those members got a discount and only paid $5 apiece – half-price. By ’61, she needed someone to bounce her teaching skills against and as dad was holding down 2-jobs and was unavailable for this purpose, I, as the eldest child and one who showed great interest in learning this skill, fell into this role.

I clearly remember dancing in our kitchen, as it was a big room with a lot of floor space. This was where we worked out new steps, practiced and created new moves. I found dancing agreed with my need to move to any rhythm. My future as a musician (short as it was) was still just a dream that occasionally found me with a pair of drumsticks and a footstool standing in for a full kit. Dancing filled the inner need to move with the music and, in fact, I found most of the dance steps I learned were an excellent interpretation of the music. The rhythm of a Cha-Cha let me shake my hips as the music seemed to require and looked a lot better than making haphazard arm and leg movements that may or may not agree with what the rest of my body wanted to do. Now I had a tool with which I could interpret what I felt! The Waltz was like gliding on ice through clouds of music. Done correctly it was effortless, weightless and almost like I imagine flying. The Samba was sexy and energetic whereas the Tango was just sexy (sexy, sexy, sexy.) The Foxtrot felt like the roaring 20’s to me and the Rumba was like a sexy, Latin waltz. Although I learned to Jitterbug it was nothing like what I felt it needed and, indeed, it was a few years later when I saw this dance done with the energy it deserved. This was an easy dance – one of the easiest – but was less than satisfying for the above reasons. The Mambo was a more sensuous dance with a feeling somewhere between the Samba & the Cha-Cha. Turned out I loved every minute I danced.

Within a year I was performing and demonstrating my skills on the dance floor whenever mom wanted to impress potential students or to show off her teaching skills. I’m pretty sure there was a little pride in her eldest as well for taking hold of these skills so quickly and so well. I performed dance exhibitions for a few Moose Club meetings and in an occasional venue at a club or meeting in which she had contacts and, perhaps hope for some new students. I performed several impromptu demonstrations at school dances when mom was one of the chaperones. In ’62 mom had found a partner for my demonstrations and, although we went through a few (they lost interest after a few weeks or months) mom was always available as a partner if my actual partner was unavailable. I remember a few of these ladies like Elizabeth, Cheryl, and Monique. By 1965 I had a “permanent” partner in Terry (Do you still remember the dances Ms. Moeller?). She lasted a few months.

By the time 1962 had ended I had a handful of classmates as my “students.” This mostly meant I was present and I was available to demonstrate the steps and correct any mistakes or help with any difficulty the boys had. Mom did most of the actual teaching & split the take with me. At $5 a-person I was making around $50 a-week, which at 12, was about $45 more than my allowance. Dad dropped the allowance once I had my own income. I still had all of the chores I had before: Taking the garbage out daily, mowing the substantial sized lawn every 2-weeks with our old push mower, as well as taking my turn, with Steve, at the dishes, sweeping the front sidewalk every Saturday, or shoveling the snow as needed, and babysitting my little brothers when required. It was quickly made clear that these things were not what I was paid for via allowance but were tasks that helped spread the household load among those that could contribute. This division of labor was simply a responsibility of our little family society. The allowance was a sort-of donation to the kids as, at a certain age, they felt every kid needed a bit of spending money both to save and to spend.

It follows that by ’65 I had been “teaching” for about 3-years. By this time mom was well known in the area as one of the premier instructors and turned down more jobs then she accepted. Some of these offers she was simply unable to turn down as they appealed to her better sense of what was right to her. One of these was a class at a park in Waukegan. She had been hired by a local charity group to teach ballroom dancing to a group of mentally challenged, what then was referred to as “retarded” adults. Mom had asked me along for the first class and I was hooked.

Now 3-weeks in and I was realizing that the point of these lessons was not to teach dancing but to offer a changing experience in which the students could interact socially and learn something new and challenging at the same time. Every week we were teaching the same steps over and over again. “1-2-cha-cha-cha, 1-2-cha-cha-cha, 1-2-step-step-step.” BigBill was in the class.

BigBill had been a fixture in our neighborhood since I could remember. He was quiet and friendly. BigBill didn’t talk very much but he was always eager to please even though we were only little kids. Everyone in the neighborhood looked forward to one of BigBill’s rare visits. BigBill could push the merry-go-round faster than anyone else, and in fact he pushed so hard and so fast that we usually had to ask him to slow down or stop as we were often in danger of being thrown into the wind as the centripetal force of the merry-go-round pulled us toward the outer edge of the ride. BigBill could push a swing-rider higher than anyone! BigBill always had a big smile and, even though he didn’t say much, we all trusted BigBill. I knew where BigBill lived but had no idea which adults would be his parents. BigBill never retained one dance step but he enjoyed the classes as much as anyone could. Most all of the students looked forward to our weekly visits as much as did mom and I.

There were lots of other students in class but only BigBill and Renny’s names have remained with me. Renny was, like most in this class, severely challenged with physical problems that accompanied her mental restrictions… but Renny was another big puppy-dog. Renny’s complexion reflected a past of severe acne and hair with a mind of its own. She was maybe 60 lbs overweight and stronger than she knew, which mom and I learned every week when Renny gave us our compulsory hug and a big ol’ sloppy kiss… something we looked forward to every week. Renny, being one of the more outgoing members of a, normally, quiet group reined over her co-members. She had no idea she had this level of influence, as she never tried to exert control, but was a natural leader whom they all followed. If this were a movie Renny would have been the one with the big idea, the one everyone followed, and the one who got everyone in a comical fix. As this was real life that only happened once in a while like when she decided to chase a puppy she wanted to pet. “Help me!” was all she had to say and all but a couple of her group pitched in to catch the little dog, now scared out of its mind with a dozen or more adults chasing, laughing, yelling and running all over the grounds trying to catch the puppy. Half of them were out of breath before we caught up to them and settled everyone down. A great laugh, great fun. An abundance of love.

The event of the year was the annual Christmas Party. They exchanged gifts with each other, having chosen a person’s name from a hat a month before. The main office had little gifts for each of them and mom and I had little dancing nic-nac figures for each of them. They quickly announced they wanted to dance so the party turned into another lesson as most of them still couldn’t remember steps from week-to-week. This lesson was a bit different because discipline was much looser and those that didn’t want to participate were not hassled to join in, as usual lessons required more attention and discipline to keep this crowd under control. Otherwise regular sessions might be more like this party with Renny running around with a sprig of mistletoe to hold over everyone’s head. Renny gave me more than my share of hugs and kisses that evening although I don’t believe I received more of these than anyone else.

Unfortunately the next year, due to budget constraints, the lessons ended. I never saw BigBill, Renny or any of the other students again. I was too old to play on the playground where BigBill used to push us so fast and so high so our paths didn’t cross. I heard Renny died a few months later due to physical complications stemming from the brain damage she sustained when she was a child and which sent her to us.

When I think of this group, in my mind, they are surrounded with an aura of love. It comes from within each of them and blesses those of us lucky enough to have met these wonderful and innocent adult kids.

To and from each and every one of them… much love.