There are times in our lives that require dancing. Nothing else will do. The Return concert last Saturday night was one of those times. As Ringo, John, George, and Paul performed on the stage, the music took over and much of the audience was dancing and singing along. The performers were uncannily like the original Beatles of my youth. As the strains of “I Want to Hold your Hand” and “Come Together” filled the auditorium, bodies moved in rhythm to the music. Some stood and danced, some danced still seated in their chairs, and almost everybody clapped to the beat. For “Hey, Jude” we arose and swayed as we all sang. What a performance it was and if you missed it, I’m sorry.
There are too few danceable moments in our lives, moments when we can’t sit still, no matter who’s watching. It doesn’t matter anyway because everyone else is dancing, too. The music consumes us and takes us away to a joyful place.
One day last week I had an opportunity to watch someone else in a danceable moment. I was driving home on Hwy 341 and very carefully observing the speed limit when I noticed that I was gaining too fast on the red Suburban ahead of me. I pulled over to the left lane to pass and as I drove by, I saw a red-haired girl dancing and singing to beat the band. Her eyes were on the road, but her body was dancing in the driver’s seat. Her lips sang the words of some song that had her completely spellbound. The wind blew in the open windows and snatched at her ponytail, ripping strands from the band trying to hold them in place. She was enjoying life and dancing to the music.
As a matter of fact, she was having so much fun that I slowed down and watched her until I turned off. Her actions made my day.
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