But if you’re looking for stories that push people’s buttons, check out the Chronicle blog and pay close attention to the number of comments. Like the posts for the final week of February:
“9,000 expected at Challenge Youth Conference in Gatlinburg, Tenn.” 0 comments. (Yawn.)
“Q&A: ACU’s dean of students discusses new policy allowing dancing.” 42 comments. (Here we go.)
Way back in 1985 …
I attended my first two dances during my freshman year at Harding U. (Harding rules prohibited dancing, although I don’t believe it was considered a get-kicked-out-of-school offense.)
One dance took place right after a Spring Sing performance, Harding’s annual musical showcase. For several weeks, we participants had been practicing and performing a “legal” version of dancing called choreography. Now we were ready for the other kind of dancing, which we called “dancing.”
On a Saturday night, a bunch of us hopped into cars and trucks and drove out to an old pavilion near Camp Wyldewood. Someone brought some stereo equipment and a microphone. And … we … danced.
(Author’s note: I was, and am to this day, a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dancer.)
We jumped up and down.
We had a great time.
It all seemed like good clean fun to me. But what did I know?
Also that Spring, a friend and I crashed a high school Future Business Leaders of America dance. That’s right, FBLA baby. It was pretty wild.
On those nights, I mostly remember being nervous and feeling goofy ... but there was a good bit of laughter along the way.
And later …
My wife and I have danced at weddings and other formal and semi-formal functions. We have square-danced. And we've shaken-a-leg with our kids many many times.
How about you?
“I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing.” – Hillel
|For some reason, I don't seem super-excited about my Spring Sing costume.|