ALONG THE WAY

along the way He Could Have DANCED ALL NIGHT

"MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?" This was the first question I was taught to ask in the Grand Canyon Grade School square dancing class.

"Yes," was the only acceptable reply-not, "Okay" or "I guess so" or "No, I want to sit this one out." It was understood that everyone danced-every time-all the time.At the Community Building three blocks away, the teen-agers and grownups participated in another kind of dancing: swing and what the boys called "close" dancing. As I moved up through the grades, I attended these monthly events, but not as a dancer. In 1948, at 13, I really hadn't grown much. I felt self-conscious about asking girls, my age but taller, to dance. Instead, I became one of the managers of the soft drink concession. I wished for a chance to try out the giant dance floor, circled with folding chairs filled with those awaiting an invitation to dance, but I just stood with the other boys and watched.

Somehow, asking Bettythe very same girl who had been my school partnerto dance with me became a new, anxietyfilled challenge. Now she didn't have to say yes. Anxious though I was to dance, there was this new fear of refusal. I could see the girls sitting on the other side of the room. They were all good dancers. We had enjoyed dancing together at school, so why wouldn't we dance now?

None of the other boys were dancing, either. They were laughing and telling jokes, talking about anything but the dancing.

I stepped away from the group and looked across the room at Betty. She was one of the best dancers in our class. I weaved my way through the crowd and stood in front of her. She looked at me and smiled.

I held out my hand and asked, "May I have this dance?"

For a moment, my heart skipped a beat. Then she stood up and held my hand! The jukebox record stopped. There was an interminable pause. Would it be fast or slow? No one left the dance floor, thank goodness. Whatever happened, we would be in a crowd.

Then the first notes of Tommy Dorsey's orchestra playing "Boogie Woogie" filled the room.

A few hesitating steps and suddenly we were Moving about the floor. We were swaying with the beat. She was a natural dancer. She was so good that my dancing became better. It was easy to catch on to swing dancing. She was looking into my eyes. I was smiling back at her. Her jet-black hair floated away from her shoulders as we moved apart. Her blue satiny dress swayed back and forth. Her body slipped out of my hand as she moved smoothly into a turn. Her dress lay out in a full, flat circle as she twirled. She knew each step. I improvised and she followed instantly. We laughed. We were dancing; this was fun!

Before we got completely around the floor, the music stopped. She made no move to return to her chair nor did I attempt to take her. The strains of Glenn Miller's rendition of "In The Mood" came up and we were moving again, smiling and turning and twirling and stepping. On and on through the night we danced to "Memories of You" with Benny Goodman and "Dancing in the Dark" with Artie Shaw's orchestra, fast and slow: a new experience, a new pleasure. This should never stop.

But it did.

There was a tap on my shoulder.

"I'm cutting in," came the deep voice of an older, high school boy.

In a moment I was left standing on the floor and Betty was floating away in another spin. For some reason, my enthusiasm left me, and instead of walking over to some of the stillseated girls, I went out in the hall and started serving Cokes. Business was booming. Thirsty dancers were lining up for drinks. The Boy Scout Coca-Cola concession was going to make a lot of dimes tonight. The music was loud and I wanted to leave and get back on the floor, but the thought of not dancing with Betty stopped me. No way was I going to tap that tall 16-year-old boy on the shoulder. I would have needed to stand on a stool.

I looked at the clock. There was probably time for just one more dance. I put down the towel and walked to the edge of the dance floor. Betty was nowhere in sight. "Moonlight Serenade" was starting. There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Betty standing next to me. Smiling, with her eyes sparkling, she reached out and took my hand.

She whispered softly, "May I have this dance?" AH