More dancing the night away at Ft. Stanton

As last week's post ended, Kenneth Dusenberry was lining up partners for the Grand March at the Ft. Stanton Live Saturday night ball.  The Grand March was performed according to military protocol, with dancers in pairs positioned according to rank.  Kenneth encouraged spectators to join in, but most of us felt reluctant to do so. I heard one couple dressed in Western style clothing tell Kenneth they just weren't dressed appropriately.

But the spirited atmosphere must have overcome their reluctance, because I spied them later at the back of the column ready to march.  As Kenneth Dusenberry and his partner led the dancers around the room, I recognized the music as "Scotland the Brave,"  one of my favorite traditional Scottish melodies.

After the march, Kenneth announced that the first waltz of the evening must be danced with the Grand March partner, but that the rest of the evening was for mingling.  He reminded us again that balls were one of the few opportunities for meeting members of the opposite sex that were available at a 19th century military post. Sort of like a modern day Internet dating site, I suppose.

By this time, Wayne and I had sat out two dances. We were beginning to feel like we were missing out on the fun.  When Kenneth announced the Hat Dance, we made a quick decision to join in.  This wasn't the intricate Mexican Hat Dance that we were familiar with, or we would have stayed seated for sure.  

Males lined up on one side and females on the other.  The participants were of all ages, from grandmas and grandpas to elementary school age children.  The young lady standing beside me in line provided a quick summary of the dance, which she assured me was lots of fun.

This is the young lady later in the evening.

Three chairs were positioned at the front of the dance floor.  They were occupied by either one male in the middle with two females on the side, or one female in the middle with two males on the side.  The person in the middle was given a hat. He or she talked to the potential dance partners on either side and chose one of them as a partner. They then danced down the floor to the end of the respective lines. The person not chosen got the hat and moved over to the middle seat, and the procedure was repeated.

This is where I should have known I was in trouble.  I was one of the females on the side.  The male in the middle looked at me and said, "You know how to dance, don't you?"  (I guess he thought that if I had reached my current advanced age and was still mobile, I had had plenty of time to learn how to dance!)  I said, "Yes, but I'm wearing my Birkenstock sandals."  "That's okay,"  he said, and handed the hat to the other female.  We began dancing down the floor.

I was struggling mightily trying to follow a new unfamiliar dance partner and keep my shoes on at the same time.  My first embarrassment came when my partner said, "Hey, you've got to let me lead."  I guess I was pulling him down the floor to get this dance over with post haste. Then my worst fears came true as I stepped out of one of my sandals, right in the middle of the floor.  An elementary school age young man in military uniform rushed over from the sidelines and helped me put my shoe back on.  I thanked my dance partner, who was unfailingly polite and thanked me also (both of us grateful that the agony was over, I'm sure), and I slunk away to my chair instead of rejoining the female line of dancers.

Birkenstock sandals have many virtues.  They are unbelievably comfortable, they don't rub blisters, and they just feel like summertime. But I'm sure none of those 19th century belles would have been foolish enough to try to dance in similar footwear.

The next dance was the Virginia Reel, an intricate dance that I (thankfully) just observed.  I'll wait to describe the Virginia Reel in next week's blog because it is quite complex.  If anyone has ever danced the Virginia Reel, please let me know if my description next week is accurate!