Peak Progress

Fred and Ginger

Posted by Tim Fri, 23 Jun 2006 06:52:00 GMT

Fifteen months ago, Kate and I started taking dance lessons at our local Arthur Murray franchise.  I had a little bit of dance experience from musicals, and we talked on several occasions about one day taking lessons together.  Kate found a coupon for a free introductory lesson, and she signed up for the 10 week beginner program at the end of that lesson.  I knew about the free lesson, but signing up for the 10 week course was news.  It went something like "hey, I signed up for dance lessons today!"  Running that through my personal girlfriend translation engine, I deciphered the message.  It said "I hope you weren’t joking about taking dance lessons, because now we’re going whether you like it or not."

Fortunately I was up for the challenge and actually excited to start.  A lot of couples our age sign up for dance lessons because they are getting ready for their wedding, some with as little as 4 weeks before the big day.  That wasn’t us—Kate just wanted to dance.  Even still, dancing is a lifetime fitness activity that takes a while to learn. Signing up for a long running activity with her had me sighing with relief.  You see, she had no idea, but at the time we started dancing I had recently written the single largest check ever to come out of my checkbook.  Tivol gladly cashed that check while placing a shiny diamond on a platinum band into their vault on my behalf.  Yes indeed, long term commitment was just what I was looking for.

Our lessons happened over my lunch break at first, and because of this I caught a little flack from some coworkers.  They’d call me Fred Astaire, or worse, Ginger Rogers.  These taunts came from men deathly afraid of emasculation.  Men for whom a big night out with their wives involved eating out and making it home just in time to watch reality television or a cartoon rerun.  They laugh, and tell me that life will be much the same for me.  I laugh too.  I know that Kate wants a house with hardwood floors for dancing, and I know she wants the DirecTV subscription canceled when she moves in.  

Fifteen months of dance lessons.  Fifteen months is quite a long time.  That’s two and a half semesters of school plus breaks.  At about the one year mark, I made mention of an upcoming jitterbug lesson to my grandma.  Grandma grew up with the jitterbug, and I was giving her fair warning that I’d be ready to take her out on the dance floor at the wedding.  An uncle cocked his head a little and appeared genuinely curious.  "What?  You’re still taking lessons?  I figured you would have learned all there is to know by now.  I thought that after a year you’d be dancing like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers."  Grrrr, those two again.  No, we are not yet dancing like Fred and Ginger.  After telling our instructor that story, he pointed out that even he still takes lessons.  This is definitely a long term commitment.

Keep in mind that we aren’t just talking about matching our feet up to black painted and numbered outlines on the floor.  There are small matters of timing, styling, and combinations.  There are larger, more "pressing" issues.  Me not pressing my toes on to hers.  Kate not pressing her elbow into my face as she walks through an under arm turn.  Her elbow, my face.  She worries about that a lot, so it warrants repetition.  I have a different outlook:  it is my problem and my fault if I lead her through a move and collide with her elbow in the process, but I appreciate her concern.

As an example of the layers of complexity involved, let’s dissect the basic footwork required to make the Rumba look like a Rumba.  If you’ve had any waltz experience, you may look at the footwork diagram of the Rumba and think "piece of cake, it’s just like the waltz on a smaller scale!  Forward, side, together!"  At first, both instructor and student will be thrilled when the student consistently remembers the pattern of the dance.  But music has rhythm, and a straight "forward, side, together" doesn’t feel very latin to me.  The student is then introduced to a new mantra, "slow… quick, quick, slow… quick, quick."

Kate and I were happy at this point.  When we danced a Rumba, we danced WITH the music, and we were even learning some nice turns and breaks.  At that point I learned why we as a nation have such a problem with Cuba.  It isn’t their government, it’s their motion.  Cuban motion is the fancy term for making your hips and legs go in all sorts of different directions while dancing.  Truthfully, Cuban motion is an American invention, but it’s still quite foreign to me.

Here’s a quick beginner’s explanation of Cuban motion.  Keep one leg bent, and one leg straight at all times.  Take tiny steps.  Keep your toes near the floor.  Lift your heels off the floor, but drop them slowly.  Land on the inside of your foot, roll to the outside.  Now, all at once.  Confused?  So am I.  Mastering this with any competency may require long term commitment to rival even Castro’s dedication to communism.

Kate and I have a long way to go with our dancing before we even finish the bronze level program in which we are currently enrolled, but we will continue dancing at whatever level we can swing as long as our hips, knees, and ankles continue to do their part.  Long term commitment is a joy when shared with someone so wonderful.  I only ask you to remember that there’s a big difference between an activity looking easy and being easy.  Thanks alot, Fred and Ginger.