What follows could be blamed on the extreme weather of early June. I obeyed all the rules and didn’t go outdoors very much because when you are “old” and warned to stay out of the heat, that’s what you are supposed to do. As a result of all that, although not overly fond of air conditioning, I turned mine on and sat down to watch TV. As usual, I soon tired of daytime programming and read a goodly portion of a good book; but it was still afternoon so I talked on the telephone to — I forget who. Finally, I ended up feeling sentimental so I began reminiscing — which always takes you back to your much younger and energetic days when you could and would do most anything you can’t do now. We just happened to love dancing — oh, not like they do on “Dancing With the Stars,” but that old-fashioned, sentimental round and square dancing that was so much fun when we were young. It was wartime and there wasn’t much to do, but Saturday night was the big night of the week so come rain or come shine we girls banded together like a hive of honeybees and walked to the West Side of town from way out here in Snydertown. It was well worth the effort; we were healthy teens who were ready to dance another Saturday into history. When we arrived at our destination, we would wait impatiently for the gentleman in charge to shout out in his familiar figure-calling voice: “Everyone choose a partner and do-si-do.” None of our gang, as I recall, was very good at the jitterbug dancing, but we could do-si-do with the best of them. After all, we had youth on our side. If you started out with some strangers you were soon friends and who could worry while whirling around a dance floor. Even the servicemen who stopped by in various uniforms: U.S. Army, Navy, Marines and Coast Guard, were smiling when they left. During intermission we would sometimes just sit around and talk or go to Alquire’s Dairy Bar down the street where we would stuff ourselves with hamburgers and milkshakes, or perhaps a huge sundae. Then it was back to the second half of the dance where we happily danced and talked the remaining hours away. All too soon the lights dimmed and the orchestra began playing that old favorite “Goodnight Sweetheart,” warning everyone that this was the last dance of the evening. When you are young, there is always “next week” to look forward to, life seems endless to a teenager. So tired but happy, we joined forces once more and actually had the energy to walk all the way back to Snydertown. Oh, for just a dab of the pep, vim and vigor we could put to good use today. At a recent dance recital at the State Theatre, Irma and I, along with members of the younger generation (some of whom had performed), there was a pretty young lady who came out and danced to the song, “Let’s Dance.” I loved it — it made me feel like moving my feet, the way I used to do so long ago. The next song should have been “Impossible Dream.”

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