September. A hugely popular month for all sorts of things – most schools begin a new year, the season folds into fall midway…. and it’s a popular month for nostalgic indulgance. (No, I will not have the Green Day vid at the end of this although I do love that song. lol) Happy memories, sad memories, exciting memories. There is a myriad of emotion swirling around like crunchy, wind blown leaves this month. So let’s call it Memory Month!
I have RCoyne of Rag of the Year fame to thank for today’s title. He left a comment yesterday on my Aug. 31 post “Hey Ma! Never knew you were so Edgewise….Thank you” in which he reminded me of a very special activity. I am sure he will not mind me re-posting his comment here:
“Happy are the downsprings who know that kitchens are really for dancing in.
( That was in a fortune cookie…well, at least should be in a fortune cookie.)”
The exact origins of the “kitchen dance” may very well be laid at the feet of my mother (no pun intended!), and yet the romantic in me thinks (and hopes) that it is generational in nature. Passed down, daughter to daughter. I am certain that my sister has “educated” her own daughter in this most propitious activity.
What exactly is it? It is the unique expression of/indulgance in/escape from the moment that is. And sharing that moment with someone else. It’s the invitation to take a little, slow Astaire around the kitchen. Room dimension is immaterial as Albert’s got nothing on the time/space continuum when 2 people begin dancing in the kitchen.
In younger days, the dancing was most often indulged in around the holidays or special occaisions and, more often than not, in stockinged feet. It’s a thing that was/is spontaneous, it’s the invitation to someone to move with you within a space not defined, a space without limits and where the music never has to end.
“Don’t forget to dance…don’t forget to smile… don’t forget to dance…if only for awhile…..don’t forget to dance….forget it for awhile….”