Topic 184: On Keeping Step

Carol:

Oh Say, Can You Step

This weekend, I got out of step with the traditional rituals that mark America’s birthday as an independent nation in the making.   According to the U.S. Census bureau, a government agency which should know of what it speaks, the rituals of  4th of July include parades, fireworks and backyard barbecues.
 

The parade part I have always loved—any procession that includes music, costumes and marching in cadence. One of my favorite 4th of July parades was at Sequoia National Park in 1986. Enthusiastic campers from all over the world cheered and waved as the park employees processed through the visitors’ center either on foot in their official uniforms or riding on a variety of park vehicles (trucks, fire engines, jeeps, lawn mowers, anything that moves).  Prescott has two parades as part of  its annual Frontier Days. The official 4th of July parade on  Saturday attracts marching bands from around the country, equestrian groups, cloggers, and politicians, especially  during election time.  But, the best parade is the day before, the Kiwanis Kiddie Parade, which circles the Courthouse Square on Friday morning.  I was pretty proud of the “horse” Marshall rode in that parade when he was 3 years old, his tricycle sporting a mop for a tail and a painted cereal box for a head. Somehow, we didn’t make it to either parade this year.
 

I always liked the fireworks too, although I can count as many times fog or rain obscured the fireworks when we lived in California.  In drought-plagued Arizona we always wait for the announcement…will the fire conditions cancel the fireworks? When the kids were little, we went to the high school for the official Prescott display, picnicking on the football bleachers while we waited for the sun to go down and the music and fireworks show to begin. Lately, I have enjoyed sitting on our back deck with the same kind of anticipation for darkness to come, at which point we would begin to see one after the other—Prescott Valley, Prescott and then off to the left Chino Valley—the skies light up from the tri-city celebrations.  Last night, we had the best light show of all, magnificent monsoon lightning storms in all directions,  illuminating massive clouds and cracking thunder.  Soon the insects got to us, so we moved indoors; but,  I did catch a glimpse of the Prescott fireworks show from the window of our loft.
 

Barbecue?  Well, we’ve got a grill, but Megan and Marc are taking a nutrition class that espouses a plant-based (i.e. Vegan) diet. No oil, no dairy, no barbecued chicken, no big, thick juicy hamburgers or chips and dip. Saturday’s menu was Louisiana rice and beans without the Andouille sausage. The menu for 4th of July was steamed broccoli accompanied by a medley of barley, butternut squash, apples, and red peppers. Dessert was fresh strawberries dolloped with coconut milk ice cream. It was delicious actually, and especially so because I didn’t have to do the cooking (thanks, Megan).
 
So, what is Independence Day without the parades, the fireworks and the barbecue? Well, I may not have been keeping step with 4th of July traditions, but I did have family here to celebrate the weekend.  We set up the pop-up camper in the yard for a min camp-out, and the littlest family members played all over of our multi-storey house.  Frankly, I just didn’t have time to miss the parade, the fireworks or the barbecue.
 

P.S.  As inconvenient as it is to heft loads of groceries or laundry up all those stairs, sometimes I am really happy to keep steps.

Megan:

On Keeping Step

There’s something about dancing that must be instinctual. Babies dance all the time, often without encouragement. I’ve watched my little cousins, in the midst of another activity, suddenly do a little hop-skippity thing to the music, and then go back to what they are doing.  Small children dance without hesitation, self-consciousness or embarrassment.  That part comes later.

I remember, in first grade, being part of a dance group that performed to New Kids on the Block songs on the playground. In 1989, with crimped hair and sideways pony tails, three pairs of neon socks and white high stop sneakers, we certainly looked the part.  Have you seen Donnie Darko? We were like Sparkle Motion without the organization or motivation to get on Star Search. Anyway, some of the other girls in my class had taken ballet, tap or clogging, so they had some understanding of rhythm. They also had MTV. I had taken gymnastics and no cable. I was put in the back, even though I was the shortest and I remember knowing this meant I was the worst dancer, but I was still happy to be included.

The traumatizing moment came several years later on a Church trip to Universal Studios. I was walking through the theme park with my best friend Noel, when a familiar song came over the speakers. “I really like this song!” I said, and started dancing to it. It’s not that she laughed. I could have handled simple laughter. It was that she clutched her stomach in pain, and then fell onto her hands and knees, tears streaming from her face as she SCREAMED with laughter. For years after, bring it up again: “Remember that time you tried to dance?”  and then she would crack up all over again. I never danced (sober) in public again.

When I moved to England for the first time, I was introduced to clubbing by my housemates. I kept telling them I didn’t know how to dance, but they assured me that if I got pissed (drunk) dancing would be easy. This turned out to be true. Once I stopped being so self-conscious, dancing was fun again. And strobe lights make even the most awkward mover a rhythmic genius. An added benefit to all the dancing was the exercise. Despite a year of complete excess and unhealthy living, I managed to dance off more than 20 pounds.

This fall, nearly 10 years after I last danced in public, I will be taking a Zumba class at the local community college. I have convinced another friend to take it with me. She’s not the same one who laughed at my dancing, but since I regularly send her into paroxysms of laughter, I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea. But, I’m a more confident person now and I bet she can’t dance either.