Dive Bar Dancing

I never imagined that I’d still be dancing in bars at this age. But hey, a girl’s got to dance, and in the winter the live music in in the bars. So here I sit, waiting for my girl friend, who is dumping her grumpy guy tonight to come dance with me.
She’s got a full plate, as do I. This is a chance for both of us to de-stress, unwind, and wiggle out our worries for ninety minutes before my sitter has to go home, and before she has to go back to Mr. Grumpo.
This is the week of the worst Valentine’s Day in recent history – seventeen people gunned down in Florida, by a nineteen year old with no parents. He played violent video games, I’m sure. He legally bought an assault rifle. Now seventeen families have lost loved ones, most of them kids.
The generations after mine are going to fix this. Cameron Kasky, a young man from Parkland High school, told the media that his generation will not stand for this. His video is going viral on social media.
I have a son. Life is tough on young men, finding their purpose, finding their way.
I didn’t mean to write about this as I wait for my friend. I was going to write about dancing and the sixty somethings who still drag their musical instruments to little dive bars so that they can play and we can dance. Young people, old people, all sizes, colors, and beliefs. We unite to the beat and groove respectfully, side by side.
No one cares how old I am. I’ve been told I don’t dance like I’m a senior citizen. Hell, I’ve been dancing the same way since I was fourteen.
Sitting here at the bar, I just got a text. My girlfriend is backing out.
“Nooooooooooo!” I text back.
“Of the driveway,” she responds.
“Yayyyyyyyyyy!” I answer back.
Have you ever noticed how text messages can be easily misconstrued?
Dancing, one of the greatest joys of life.
I wish it were a mandatory class in grade school, when kids aren’t embarrassed about it yet. Most life-long dancers start as kids.
Dancing, a great way to chill out in a very scary world.

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