A Perfect Benefit

This one was TBG's idea entirely.  Anyone who knows him is now blinking in astonishment; the man does not do big gatherings unless his daughter is being married or his wife has planned the event.  In the latter case, he leaves early.  I'm not judging, I'm merely relaying the facts. 

But Friday night found us dressed in our Tucson casual best, driving on newly paved roads to a newly created development and into a brand new church auditorium.  He was smiling before we got there, a fact which brought joy to my heart and whetted my anticipation.  The friends we were meeting were his friends, members of a loose-knit crowd of older adults who frequent the spin classes at our gym. 

The men share photos of their grandchildren, which warms the cockles of My Yogi's heart at the two classes a week she leads.  The women chime in on sports talk.  They are boisterous and reserved, liberal and reactionary, competitive and lackadaisical on the bikes.  They worry when one of their number has been absent for a while.  They like one another, and in the relatively anonymous world of the gym, that's as far as they've gone.

Until Friday night.  Orphanage Aid International, a 501c3 founded by one of the cyclists, was hosting its first, annual Fiesta Fundraising Event, and they were all invited.  The tickets were $20 per person; almost everyone in the room bought some.  TBG was visiting FlapJilly when the physical tickets were distributed; another cyclist held on to it for him until he returned ten days later. 

They have each other's backs.

We certainly got our money's worth out of the evening.  Light hors d'oeuvres and Coke products in icy cold cans preceded the Mexican buffet which came after the entertainment.  And what entertainment there was.

These mariachis donated their time to the event.

The young voices, the heart-rending trumpets, the fingers flying over the violins.....

I was in heaven. 

 

UofA graduates danced, and smiled, and swung their skirts.

The four year old with the family beside us couldn't restrain herself.

Plucking at her own skirt, she twirled and whirled and smiled almost as widely as the dancers.

 

And then there were their male counterparts.

Folklorico seems to tell a story, and the men used their hats and their boots to entice and beguile.

But then, they danced alone.

All that blurry photography happened because they were moving so fast.

Imagine boots clomping emphatically, loud music surrounding them, and the world's biggest smiles.

 

I love it when a plan comes together.

New friends, a worthy cause, appropriate amusements..... Friday night had it all.

 

The video has no sound, so feel free to watch it at work.