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The First Square Dance by Marjorie Eldred
I found it. I didn't know I was searching for it, but sometime in August
or September this year, I stepped out of my comfort zone, and there it
was.
It happened at a picnic. Our neighbors built a fire pit down the road at
the edge of the forest. We gathered for a picnic. For the program, the
planners invited square dancers. Eagerly we waited for their
demonstration of expertise in the art of dancing.
I sat comfortably on a bench, beside several neighbors and my husband,
and watched the dancers. I watched with special interest because square
dancing looked like great fun. It looked complicated, and I contented
myself with wishing I knew the art, wishing my husband was not confined
to a wheel chair, wishing for the frolic and fun that it could bring to
my life.
What I observed jolted me back to the present. Each member of the
visiting square dance team came out of their "square" and chose a
partner. Someone chose me!
His name was Neil, a very attractive and friendly man. He walked to me
and held out his hand. "But I've never square danced," I protested.
"Not even one time! I won't know what I'm doing!"
"That's ok," he said. "We're going to teach you."
So I took his hand, with much trepidation, and walked with him to a
circle that was being formed.
"I've never done this before," I reminded him, needlessly.
"The caller will tell you exactly what to do." He smiled reassuringly.
"All join hands, circle to the left," came the instruction. Well, that's
not hard, I thought. The caller, Greg, went on to instruct us how to "alamande-left"
and "dosado." He taught us who was our partner (on the left) and who was
our "corner" (on the right).
Then, staying in the circle, we practiced listening and following
directions. We danced through two sets. My breath was short and my
legs trembled, but I felt somewhat successful in my adventure.
I asked lots of questions of the instructors (callers). I was told that
each lesson was $3.00, and that new moves were added at each lesson. I
thought I could learn one or two new moves in one night. So I started
lessons.
Every Tuesday night at seven we gathered. New moves were added, almost
from the first, and not just one or two. As long as we stayed in the
circle, I felt confident. But almost immediately the caller directed us
into "squares." After all, it is called Square Dancing.
No longer did we dance only with our partner and our corner. New moves
changed the identity of both partner and corner. I "turned through
four" and got completely lost among hands reaching for mine. I was
supposed to do the "Grand Square" and make my "own little square." My
confusion set in.
At each lesson I dreaded the moment we moved into "squares," a group of
four couples; "head" couples and "side" couples. The night soon came
when The caller directed us to squares at the beginning of the
lesson. This is just too much! I protested. Everybody told me "Have
fun," "You can breathe now," "Relax."
The caller started announcing "student level dances," the first,
scheduled for Friday night, December 4th. The same night of
the announcement, the instructor, racing toward 'level 30,' taught four
or five new movements, all of them complicated. We were strongly
encouraged to attend the dance. There was to be an ornament exchange and
a potluck at 10:30 pm, as bait, I guess. We were told we could wear any
skirt or outfit we wanted, and "You'll have so much fun!"
Finally, I decided to go. A Golden Valley friend convinced me; told
me, again, how much fun I would have, how glad the other square dancers
were to have students there, and offered me a ride.
Most of the women at the dance wore square dance attire, knee length
bright colored skirts or dresses with voluminous petticoats. I was in my
red A-line plaid skirt and black sweater, Christmas attire, I thought. A
few other women joined me in my rebellion against the "outfit;" one
wearing black pants and a blouse. I was glad for her company.
I didn't have much time to worry about my apparel. Neil, my first
square dance partner, and an accomplished square dancer, had coaxed me
to the dance, saying he would be my partner, then remembering that he
had to take tickets at the door. There he was, inviting me onto the
floor. That was where the fun started.
The music was familiar: "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;"
the music drew us in, all singing, and then the calls started. I quit
singing. As before, the 'circle left' was easy, but I soon learned that
many of the things I could do on lesson night were becoming confusing.
The dance moved faster, with no pauses between calls, and added to the
music's distractions, the calls became more than my challenged brain
could process.
Then came the calls for movements I couldn't keep straight, even on
lesson night: "Grand Square:" There's no connection between the
movements being made by the dancers, and making my own square. I was
lost at practice, but there is no word but frustration for what I felt
at the dance. If I heard the call, it took far too long to register in
my brain and order my movements.
My befuddled presence in a square was a complication to be dealt with,
and everyone was guiding me, "go here," "alamande left," "dosado,"
repeating to me the last call. Square dancers are kind, fun-loving
people, but I felt sure I had really tried their patience that night,
disarranging their squares, disconcerting their calm. Who's worried
about their calm? What about mine?! Why, Oh Why did I go against my
intuitions and attend the dance?
As I thought about the reason, I figured it out. I went to learn.
Staying home would be like staying home from band practice because I
hadn't learned the music, or taking riding lessons and never getting on
a horse afterward. The dance is part of the learning process, a
necessary transition to competency.
So I continue the lessons. I go to the dances. I am learning to have
fun in the journey. In the midst of the learning and the confusion, I
found a perfect way to exercise; one that I don't have to do alone;
consequently, one that I will continue. |
