If they are not too stoned. At some dances people have done so much drugs and booze ahead of time they cant follow anyone or a single note. They cant even follow themselves home, even with their shadow to help.
Alas, no powwow at Spokane Falls this year, though they say they’re hopeful for next year. Waiting, perhaps, for your Grand Entry🧐. Ages ago my sister tried to teach me the Highland Fling, but it all ended with her careful analysis using the image of a wounded hippopotamus. Sorry I listened to her (just that once, Sis), but it’s too late now....
Sherman, it seems you are surrounded both in real life and cyber life with your people who want you to dance! Perhaps it’s because, from afar, we can see it peeling away one more layer of life, the kind of layer we all carry that shields us from the world. But then again, maybe that’s not it at all.
Georgia is always wanting me to dance (she taught dance somewhere along the line). Fortunately, I have NO ethnic compulsion to dance. Or talent. BUT when I was in Boy Scouts, we once performed a dance of sorts for some Seminoles, who very kindly flattered us skinny white boys. This was ca. 1956. I was in the Order of the Arrow. We ALL wanted to be Indians. After a fashion.
I love everything about this but especially the pointing and nodding and the "O". Also the hyphenated echo of "year-long" and "long-lost." Your uncle's not getting any younger ... and neither are you! So yes, heed that call.
A beautiful turning point. The scene so vivid. Your wife speaking so clearly without words. And there is the rhythm, the dance, that comes through in your poetry.
plain out lovely and delightful.
Al Franken was advised to NOT dance at a pow wow but he did it anyway, as in https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/al-franken-giant-of-the-senate-al-franken/1124564427
Always dance like no one's watching. The rest will follow.
If they are not too stoned. At some dances people have done so much drugs and booze ahead of time they cant follow anyone or a single note. They cant even follow themselves home, even with their shadow to help.
That’s not powwows work!
loved the poem. loved the light laughter.
Loved this. Thank you.
Dance in your dreams. You’ll find true rhythm there!
Yeah, this one is beautiful.
Dignity can be regained. Uncles, alas, cannot. Never pass up a chance. Dance, friend. What’s the worst that can happen?
Alas, no powwow at Spokane Falls this year, though they say they’re hopeful for next year. Waiting, perhaps, for your Grand Entry🧐. Ages ago my sister tried to teach me the Highland Fling, but it all ended with her careful analysis using the image of a wounded hippopotamus. Sorry I listened to her (just that once, Sis), but it’s too late now....
Not dancing is how I maintain what little dignity I still possess.
You may have opened a can of worms
Sherman, it seems you are surrounded both in real life and cyber life with your people who want you to dance! Perhaps it’s because, from afar, we can see it peeling away one more layer of life, the kind of layer we all carry that shields us from the world. But then again, maybe that’s not it at all.
Only your soul knows if you are called to dance.
wow, what a line:
"live almost halfway to pure"
This line will sing in my head for a long time.
Georgia is always wanting me to dance (she taught dance somewhere along the line). Fortunately, I have NO ethnic compulsion to dance. Or talent. BUT when I was in Boy Scouts, we once performed a dance of sorts for some Seminoles, who very kindly flattered us skinny white boys. This was ca. 1956. I was in the Order of the Arrow. We ALL wanted to be Indians. After a fashion.
I love everything about this but especially the pointing and nodding and the "O". Also the hyphenated echo of "year-long" and "long-lost." Your uncle's not getting any younger ... and neither are you! So yes, heed that call.
"... She smiles, points at me,
and nods her head ..."
A beautiful turning point. The scene so vivid. Your wife speaking so clearly without words. And there is the rhythm, the dance, that comes through in your poetry.
Thank you, Amanda.
What did Grandpa say--left foot then stub your toe, then right foot, stub your toe -- and we're dancing (kinda?)
And those yelps of pain will be my song!