What I Couldn't Do
Our cable package has music channels. R&B, Country, Heavy Metal, Pop Hits, and, TBG's favorite - Classic Oldies. That's what we swim to; Zone 2 is the outside speakers and that's the red button I push to make the sound happen. Our set up is complex and I never bothered to learn it. That one red button is enough for me.
So, this afternoon, I changed and slathered lotion and grabbed a towel and my goggles before I pushed the button and the music began. I had no idea it would be a romp through my adolescence - and my failure to learn to dance.
Daddooooo taught me the lindy in our living room. It was fun, but I was too awkward to enjoy myself. I paid more attention to the fact that it was a dance named after Charles Lindbergh than I did to learning the steps. Besides, nobody in junior high was doing the lindy; they were doing a raft of other dancer. I didn't know them either.
First on this afternoon's playlist was The Mashed Potato. I could do that - sorta kinda, but my hips hurt with every turn in and turn out. Plus, it was kinda stupid.
A few songs later came The Pony - I remember it had something to do with lifting your knees, but that's about all. That song sent me down a mental spiral - the Frug, the Watusi, the Boogaloo - the songs weren't played but the memories were quite clear.
I calmed down when they switched to The Twist - I was good at that. I could do The Swim (crawl, breast stroke, back stroke) and The Hitchhike, so I didn't have to spend all my time sitting and watching. But the feeling was awakened and has been dogging me all afternoon.
I never wanted to go back to Junior High..... this is only one of the reasons.


2 Comments:
Junior high seems to leave its scars on just about everyone.
So true. Why, 56 years later, are those hurts still so real?
a/b
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I KNOW THE FONT IS TOO SMALL......
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