Everybody Cut Footloose

   My whole family loves to dance: my sisters, my mom and dad, my kids and their kids.  I think it is so very cool to be able to express yourself that way.   My first memory of dancing was at the age of 5 out on the Blytheville, Arkansas football field at halftime with head majorette, Gail Brogdon, and loving every minute of it.  I took tap and ballet for more than 10 years at the infamous Rockie Smith Dance Studio and wanted to be Shirley Temple for most of my elementary school years. I danced a lot at home and put on my tap shoes almost every day just to hear them click on the floor.  My mother was always fussing about the scuff marks, but she continued to let me do it.
 When I got to junior high and high school, I really wanted to go to the dances, but back in my day, you had to have a date in order to participate, and that just wasn't happening for me.  I probably had less than a dozen dates in my entire high school career which was a huge disappointment socially, not to mention stifling my dance moves.  I love that kids go out in groups now.  You shouldn't have to have a guy ask you out in order to have some fun!  When I got to college, anybody who wanted a date could usually get one, but you had to take your chances.   And you could have the worst time of your life on a blind date---I know that first hand---but that's for another post. 
   We always had live bands at Ole Miss in the late 60s and early 70s, and part of the great football weekend tradition was to hop from fraternity house to fraternity house after the games.  Most of us loved the weekend live bands at Ole Miss better than almost anything.  You could walk up and down fraternity row and get into any party free.  The frat guys had a social chairman who would book some of the coolest local and regional  bands in the area.  I remember when one fraternity booked the "Hot Nuts", and they got into a lot of trouble, because the band's lyrics were considered lewd and distasteful according to the University.  Those lyrics were so extremely mild compared to the music lyrics of today.   Funny how some things evolve into worse.  
My husband, Clark, was and is a very good dancer.  He was at ease on the dance floor, and really enjoyed kicking up his heels.  During college, he would grab a girl, even if she had another date, and off to the dance floor they would go.   And one night, Clark evolved into "Chicken Man" because he could dance with that head moving like a chicken long  before the "Funky Chicken" came into being.   And the name, "Chicken",  stuck.  Lots of people including me still call him "Chicken", although I try to avoid it in business and family situations.  Until recently, if we were at a party and there was dancing, you can believe that Clark was one of the first and last on the dance floor, and any lady who wanted to dance (and some who weren't sure) would end up in front of the band with Clark.  It has been so much fun to be married to a guy who likes to dance. 
Anyway, we don't really dance as much as we used to.  We just like watching the younger folks at weddings and get togethers.  But on our last night in Alabama with all of the boxes packed, Clark cranked up the music on the patio speakers and we danced to Etta and a few others.  But you know what?  Beale Street is a few miles to the west of our house here in Memphis.   And we can get into B.B.King's without a fake ID anytime.  And it might be fun to go.  But I think I'll be watching.  I have seen people my age on the dance floor trying out the new moves, and it just isn't pretty.  Yep, I'll be having just as much fun tapping my foot.........well....... maybe.