Here I am at a Arthur Murray Dance Party with one of the teachers. Barbara, the Flapper having a grand time.
Aging has its way of changing one’s lifestyle. My late husband, Paul, and I enjoyed ballroom dancing, not the dancing of today’s young people. They move around, often not even touching their partners. Paul and I could rhumba and swing step all around a dance floor. We were good. Paul never did learn to Cha-Cha, a favorite dance of mine.
When I moved to Atlanta I decided not to give up my love of dance, even though I no longer had a partner. I signed up for classes at the Arthur Murray Dance Studio near my apartment. What fun I had. Along with individual instruction, there were themed dance parties for students to practice their skills. Eventually the school rewarded me; I became a member of the Arthur’s Club for advanced students. We enjoyed dance experiences away from the studio at local dance venues. One time the class ended up dancing the new dance rage, The Macarena, in a restaurant parking lot. Arthritis has taken Arthur’s place. I can no longer enjoy the dancing experience. Perhaps that is why I decided to find another form of self-expression—writing. My feet may not be moving, but my mind is in motion. This will have to be enough for now. Not every writer is fortunate to have a daughter whose many talents include graphic design. Hara has been my right arm by helping me create Facebook pages and my own website. As she so often reminds me, “You don’t know what you are doing.” She’s right. I do know how to write a story, but maneuvering the maze of creative computer design is a real challenge. What would take hours for me to complete, she can do in minutes. She is an artist in so many ways. I thank her for all she has done to help me bring her and her dad’s story to the world. I hope my readers will keep this mind as they turn each page of Moon Flyers. |
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