When I’m 90, I want to dance the mambo at the Harvest Moon Ball.
I’ll sip wine and eat flourless chocolate cake.
When I’m 90, I want to explain earnestly to new friends I’ve met on the dance floor that you start to feel old when you’re 86 or 87. I want to be startled when they laugh.
I want to be spiffy when I hit my 10th decade, to dress sharply with crisp creases and tasteful accessories.
When I’m 90, I won’t brag. I’ll tuck away my stories like treasured heirlooms, pull them out without embellishment and only upon request. If I’m part of a greatest generation, you won’t hear it from me.
I want to look back at my children, raised with love and discipline, and call them friends. I’ll laugh at the stories I’d hoped I would.
When I’m 90, I want to stand taller than my height, carry my own luggage and offer a firm handshake. I’ll watch sunrises and moon shadows and cat nap in between.
When I’m 90 I want to make new friends with seasoned reporters and race car drivers; I’ll chat with teen-aged waiters and retired band leaders.
When I’m 90, I hope we dance.
We spent this weekend with our next-door neighbors at the Harvest Moon Ball. A decorated World War II veteran, Doug turns 90 in May. He and his lovely bride Janet have been ballroom dancing for more than 40 years. We find them very intimidating.Vince and Doug race each other out to the sidewalk on cold winter mornings to see who can fire up the snow blower first.Here’s a table shot snapped by our very sweet waiter who had been on the job for only a month. To Doug’s right is a race car driver and directly across from Janet is a newspaper reporter. We enjoyed our table, which is good because we sat in the same seats all weekend.Two formal dances and three dance lessons in two days warmed my heart and bruised my foot. This is the waltz lesson.Here’s a quick shot of Vince and me doing one of our signature dance moves…it’s a little blurry so it might be Doug and Janet….or it could be our instructors, who danced a lovely showcase after a full day of teaching 86 couples six different Big Band dances.This is what nearly 90 looks like in our neighborhood, baby!
4 thoughts on “I hope we dance”