Born a Gamboling Man?

This may come as a complete shock to some of yall, but I am not a dancer. This has not always been true, for I remember in 6th grade when I danced the Salsa with our student teacher in front of the whole school. I have also danced vicariously before, entranced by a scene of innocence and joy. I was visiting a friend of mine's church in Austin, and a small group of 5-7 year-old girls had formed a circle and were simply dancing together during the music in the service. About half way through the set, an elderly lady who looked to be mid-60's got up and danced with them; they were all simple hand movements and smiles and sways, and I was with them in their circle. While there have been some notable exceptions (high school proms, anyone?), I pretty much lost my groove somewhere between that cafeteria stage in 6th grade and puberty. The resurgent dancing shows have not stirred my recumbent inner-Shakira, but an envy for the freedom my youth still remembers has gurgled up the surface this afternoon.

After some cursory introspection, I'm reasonably sure that the only thing that keeps me from dancing more around other people is my pride, and that's a horrible reason to do (or not do) anything. So consider this your memo: I hereby resolve engage in dance-like movements more often around my friends; so go ahead and take those few short seconds to determine whether I'm dancing or actually having a seizure before you call the paramedics.