The band would cover Chicago songs and Steely Dan songs. The town was three towns west, closer to the ocean, richer — well-to-do people with shorter commutes to San Francisco.
My dance partner was coming from Emeryville. I was coming from my bedroom community inland. We would meet up and dance.
But first, ice cream. Vanilla, in a cone. He brought it over and handed it to me as I sat on my beach towel in the grass, my lawn chair in my other car. Since I’d come from a full afternoon of errands, I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to not have my chair.
In the thrift stores, I kept my eyes open for one of those ugly aluminum webbed chairs form the sixties, because they are lightweight and easy to carry. No such luck. But I did find a bunch of tea cup singles and saucer singles, many so dirty it was hard to see what they really looked like. As usual, I broke one in the car. Another plate was chipped. Net loss — $2.00.
Back to the ice cream. It was cold and delicious. The cone was crunchy and sweet. I was still warm in my sleeveless tank with the long-sleeved tee tied around my shoulders. No, I wasn’t supposed to be exposing my arms to the sun (too much skin cancer) but it was late in the day and it felt so good.
Then the band began to play. Not all Chicago songs are danceable, but when one of them came on, we got up to shake it. We were on the sloping grass, not a good place to partner dance. For that, we moved over to the handicapped sidewalk that made the park accessible for people with walkers or wheelchairs.
We fell into our easy partner style, after so many episodes or meeting up for that very reason. I’m new to the seventies decade, he’s halfway through it. Dancing keeps us looking and feeling younger. He dances several times a week. If I get in one dance session a week, I’m happy.
The band took a break after Chicago with the last great song, Saturday in the Park, and while we waited for the band’s return, people slipped on sweatshirts and jackets, the cold blowing in from the ocean. My partner put on his wool sweater and yellow ski cap. I put on my new denim floral jacket that I bought at half price (senior day) for $7.50. It smelled musty, like it had been stored for a long time. I couldn’t wait to wash it.
Steely Dan songs are slow, perfect for partner dancing (Rikki Don’t Lose That Number). People walked around us, dogs, kids, whole families, and most didn’t seem to mind that we were blocking the sidewalk with our dancing shenanigans.
We got a few thumbs up, lots of smiles, and curious stares from tiny children. We laughed and stayed warm. People in chairs with blankets over their laps started leaving because of the cold.
We danced on, to the end.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 