|
|
…And Then The Bawl |
|
|
No pictures exist, thank the Lord, of my misery in this obligatory but hateful environment. All I remember of the episode is that a very sweet young contemporary (at Mammy’s request, I think) tried to help me get the hang of something up-to-date: “It’s easy: just do this…” with nothing remotely resembling success.
Mammy and Brent, again thank the Lord, were normal: they do appear to be having fun. It’s tempting to blame my total terpsichorean incompetence on the then-already-diagnosed degenerative back condition that has, shall we say, colored my later life. Not that I lack rhythm: In the spectator rôle I can enjoy a good ballet, and perhaps even discern one. Others have accused me of dancing, solo-style, when I should have been focusing on conducting the ward choir. And I’ve always found the proximity of the opposite sex distinctly pleasurable. But the notion of dance as a mode of social interaction brings to me only feelings of inadequacy, regret, embarrassment, and loathing. While I’m expressing thanks, let me just cut in my sweet bride for a ton of it. Valerie would love to dance, and my negativity on the subject may be a mystery to her. But she’s never made me feel bad about it, not even once, when a word or a look could have triggered a lot of distress. |
|
|
Back a Page (Hugh Brown) |
Such a Life Contents |
Page Indexes: |
Chapter 1 (1941-46) |
Chapter 2 (1946-58) |
Chapter 3 (1958-72) |
Next Page (McKay) |
| Welcome | Stories | Sections | Such a Life | People | Places | Site Search | Do You Know? |
| Updated Dec 2013 | [2837Dance.htm] | Page 2-209 |