I Could Have Danced All Night

We had a ball! At the “independent living” residence where I live, we got dressed up (I wore a new black silk blouse with my pearl necklace and earrings), and we had a Military Ball.

The Air Force sent a squad in crisp blue uniforms to present the colors. The party began with all standing up (except the ones in wheel chairs) for the presentation of the flag. We put hands over our hearts and sang, softly in old squeaky voices, as the band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Our activity director announced that the military group would stay for dancing. The only problem was that the color guard was colored, and half of the “airmen” were women. The black sergeants seemed reluctant to ask old white women to dance. A lingering racism? They went from table to table, sat down, and talked with us congenially.

The Frisco Jazz Band was a full orchestra – must have had 15 musicians playing saxophones, trumpets, trombones, drums. Best of all, the band played music from the 40's and 50's, when us oldsters, now in our 70's and 80's, were in our twenties. Some of the old folks were content to just sit and recapture the mood of their youth. Leo and Lola, who go everywhere together, did not leave their chairs.

But some of us got up and danced! Bob, who had a stroke which left him with a paralyzed right arm, jitterbugged with Alma to Glen Miller’s “String of Pearls”, twirling her around with his left hand. I found partners for some of the slower pieces. Bill Pitts, a big man who also had a stroke and moves cautiously, was reluctant, but after seeing other oldsters lumbering around, led me to the little dance floor, and proved to be the best partner I had all evening.

Oh! What wonderful memories were evoked by dancing. As a teenager, when Bob came home from college, we went dancing every week. At Christmas, Joe Lillard brought his record player, and. we rolled up the rug and danced on the hardwood floor in my parents’ living room. In the heat of summer we went out on the front porch and danced on concrete. For dances with a big band at the Casino beside Lake Worth, I dressed up in a long, formal evening gown.

Bob and I broke up. He went to work for United Fruit in Central America. I married Wally and moved to Chicago. I didn’t dance again for 30 years. I was passionately in love with Wally, but many times during those years when I found my foot tapping to certain music, I couldn’t help remembering the joy I felt while dancing. A joy that came back to me at age 81 on a rigged-up dance floor in the dining room of an old folks home.