Dancing Through Time

      I have always loved dancing and can honestly say I am a surprisingly good dancer. Maybe because I’ve been dancing all my life—and will continue to.

      I have learned how to do the James Brown Shuffle, the Michael Jackson Air Walk, the Tina Turner Bump and Grind and excelled at the Shimmy Shimmy Shake Shake. I grew up watching Dick Clark and his American Bandstand TV show and as a young teen would sneak off to Philadelphia to join the “Geater with the Heater”—Gerry Blavet—at his live dances.

      Our generation, I think, is the best at dancing because dancing was so important to us. We did the Twist, the Mashed Potato, the Monster Mash, the Hully Gully, the Pony, the Hitch Hike, the Swim and the Locomotion, to name just a few.

      Our school dances were the highlight of growing up. We also had dances at our local Town Hall every Saturday night, and I received my first kiss from Eddie Jones while dancing to “Moon River.” I was 13 and had just lost my mother the year before. That connection at that time was one that I will always cherish; a first kiss is never forgotten.

           As I got older my dancing became much more raunchy, outrageous and free form. We bumped, grinded, slithered, slathered, got hot, sticky and just blew the top off any respectable sense of decency. We were the generation of “Freedom,” as shouted out by Richie Havens at Woodstock where nudity was abundant, free love was unchained and “who gives a flying fuck” raged.

      We danced with abandon because we were sick and tired of the uptight, patronizing, judgmental and strict rules and regulations of our parents and political leaders. The war in Vietnam was killing our friends, women were dying from back door dangerous abortions and racial injustice was rampant. We were sick of the status quo.

      So, our music, books, food, attitudes and our dancing reflected all that, reflected a generational movement that changed our country. We were the transformational generation. We scared our parents, challenged our teachers and reformed society.

      Today, I am still dancing—whenever the beat moves me, which is often. At 74, I can still shake my booty and “get on up.”

      When the day comes, I will be dancing to my grave to “Moonlight Mile,” taking with me a lifetime of dancing through time.