An Early Start

People always ask me how I got interested in dance, coming from a farm in the middle of no where. My first answer is that a girl from church, Tanya Willet, who was also our babysitter, took dance at the local studio and invited us to see her recital. I must have been about 7 or 8. After the recital I was hooked, my sister too, and we asked if we could take dance lessons the following year. It was my idea, I wasn't forced into it by my mother! That is my answer. However, the official answer goes back a lot further. My dad played in a polka band as a young man. (I wonder if Polka Bands had roadies?) So from as early as I can remember, my dad would get out his accordion and play music and we'd skip and dance around. The Ukrainians are a very dancy people! Probably how they stayed warm in "the old country." Also, my mother had a big love of Rock and Roll. 50's Rock and Roll. Usually during our Saturday morning chores she would put on one of her records and we would dance around and sing and play while dusting and cleaning up the house. I guess it made it more fun. Other Saturday mornings, we would listen to Mickey's Mousercise! We must have worn that tape right out. (yes tapes and records, I am that old) The Mickey Mousercise tape was about an hour long, filled with such hits as Step in Time, Bug-a-Boo, Zipity Do Dah, and Get the Money! It also had various Disney characters calling out different exercise moves and things that you could do. I remember sitting down, pretending to pull yourself across the floor while pulling on an invisible rope, scooting you butt along. There were jumping jacks, skipping, hops, flap your arms like a bird; all kinds of silly things designed to make you forget you were exercising at all. It really was a lot of fun. Of course I don't know if exercise and lemon pledge fumes are a good mix, but regardless we got the chores done and more importantly, I was hooked on the dance and set on the path that would lead me thru all kinds of adventures to the state of unemployed New York bliss in which I currently reside. I am reminded of a line from the musical Into the Woods. "careful the things you do, children will see, and learn."

About a week ago I was at the mall, just as it had opened. I had a few hours to kill and decided to meander thru the stores in shoppers paradise, taking my time to look in each one and putting up my had at the desperate kiosk people trying to peddle their hand creams and eyebrow threading. The mall walkers were just finishing up. A little creepy in their matching track suits but good for you Mr. 85 year old man for getting some exercise. I then heard what can only be described as the most annoying blood curdling sound I can ever imagine. Some young lady, mid 30's I'd guess, yelling at the top of her lungs. "The ants go marching 5 by 5, tight abs, tight abs. The ants go marching 5 by 5, tight abs, tight abs....." I turned to see a herd of young mothers with strollers all circled around their pack leader. The mothers were marching in place, the Drill Sargent checking on each one to make sure their "marching" form was spot on, and an assortment of crying, screaming, giggling kids strapped down in their strollers. Some fast asleep! There must have been about 30 of them. Mothers I mean. A few with those 2 child strollers and one poor mother had a stroller with infant, and toddler in harness in tow. About this time their leader couldn't think of anything to rhyme with 9, so I guess those ants weren't "doing fine." I thought, good for you young mothers of New York. I also felt sorry for whoever worked the mall that morning, as that ants song was a little long. I walked into Old Navy, as one often does when in the mall, and the sounds of mothers cootchie-cooing was drowned out by some Talyor Swift song. About 15 minutes passed and I emerged from the Navy of Old with my 2 tshirts, $5 each thank you very much, only to avoid a sideswipe by the NASCAR event of strollers now circling the mall. These ladies were no joke. Sweat beading down their faces. Some short of breath as they struggled to keep up with the pace of their fearless leader. Of course it was easier for her to jog, she wasn't pushing a child in a stroller, with a 40 lb diaper bag, toys, yoga mat, coat, purse, water bottle, snacks for later, change of clothes, and dishes to return at Target. I was pretty impressed with these ladies. As the last of them circled past I saw in the distance this poor mother, frazzled hair, screaming child. She was panting like the little engine that could. "You can do it," I thought to myself. I should have handed her some Gatorade. Then, as if someone lit a fire under her, she began to pick up speed and started to sprint, for the pretzel stand!!!

Dear diary, I wonder if that marching ant lady knows Bug-a-Boo?