i came to watch you dance

Where was I?
At the Lucas Theatre.
I had come to usher and stayed to dance.
After all, it was a concert.
(smile)
The Savannah Philharmonic had their last concert this year at the vintage site. This "Musique De France" featured the "impressionist" works of Berlioz, Debussy, and Poulenc in the first half.
Ravel was the only composer featured after the intermission.
The final piece of the evening was his "Boléro", in all its fifteen-minutes-of-fame glory.
It actually is fifteen minutes long, too.
Composed when Maurice Ravel was 53 years old, the music was deliberately constructed for one purpose: dancing.
That's my kind of music!
And dance to it I did, allowing my arms to weave patterns in the air as my hips swayed to the insistent beat of the snare drum. What joy!
Toward the song's end, an elderly woman with a cane began traveling down the aisle of orchestra left, toward me. She was followed by a gentleman who may have been her son. As they neared the vestibule which I had been using as my private dance hall, I moved to open the side door for their exit.
"Oh, I'm not leaving yet," the woman said. "I came to watch you dance."
And so I resumed dancing for the few minutes remaining.
Give the people what they want, n'est-ce pas?
(smile)

What a different experience than I had on Friday night.
I had ventured out to the Savannah Social event, billed as the "last chance this year for a free dance lesson at Savannah Ballroom!"
Sadly, it seemed to have been misunderstood to be the "last chance to find a date for the holidays" by many in attendance.
During the dance lesson, I shared the floor with two men. In both cases, I had interjected myself into their path as they were headed for someone else. As it was an offer they could not graciously refuse, they acted as gentlemen and danced with me.
The rumba, or box-step, was first dance we learned. The wiry older gent was not happy with my improvisation of also swinging my hips.
Next, we learned the swing, emphasizing the right side. The very tanned muscle man was actually a pretty good dancer, but his attention was elsewhere the entire time.
Ruth, one of my Lucas-mates, was also present, having been a student of the dance studio for some time. She actually performed with Gabriel! (I knew him from the sockhop following the Jepson lecture in April. Such a sweet young man! I had been dancing solo and he had come over and joined me... and he even remembered that dance with me!)
I stayed until the mixer began.
Then, I quietly ducked out.
No more ballroom for me.
I acknowledge that I am a control freak, but not in that direction.

The lesson learned?
I can dance with prescribed steps or I can move to the music, but I cannot do both.
Not that the lesson is a new one for me.
I've never been proficient as a line dancer.
But I once loved disco, with all the twirling and hip-flashing and arm-waving!
Free-form, that's my style, allowing the music to guide my movements!

Good choice, as I have been told time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time again.
I could go on, but you catch my drift...
and now, off I go to catch Tyler Perry's latest!
Bye!