Tapping my toe, clapping my hands.

Hootin an Hollarin in is the air.  Andy and I have had the privilege again this year to teach the Queen candidates a figure or two for a square dance to open the festivities.  Bitter sweet.  That is the feeling I get as I see these young women moving gracefully through the movements of the time-honored and timeless dance of our Ozarks.

I will be sitting on the sidelines this year.  A bad knee has kept me from exercising and I just don't want to risk more injury to that vital joint.  It is improving.  Just not "danceable" as yet.

But I love to see the dancers take the floor each night.  And Hootin and Hollarin is a great time to go through the old familiar dances or to learn a few new moves.

Sally Goodin, Cross the Hall, Whirl Like Thunder.  The list goes on and on.  The night air, whether steamy or cool, always adds to the magic for me.  When I am dancing I lose track of time and place.  I see people sitting in the stands, but the blurred light from the streetlights puts a hazy glow over the crowd.  And I am in my own little world.  Following the voice of the caller as they call the next move.  Reaching out and taking that familiar, or new, hand and moving, always moving to the steady beat of the fiddle and guitar.

The music.  Nothing can compare with a fine fiddle tune set to a rapid beat for a great time dancing.  Sometimes the tempo lends itself to one dance or another.  It is really up to the caller to decide.  Two Little Hobos, a great dance to begin with, needs a smoother tune.  But Black Mountain Rag always brings up the square dancing blood and makes your feet almost fly over the floor.

So this next weekend I will be sitting on the sidelines.  Come by and visit a minute.  I would love to catch up with the latest news.  But please excuse me if my toes begin to tap a little.  And every once in a while I might clap my hands to the beat...and smile and look forward to getting out there, where I belong.

Sharing Joy

"Scuze me!  Scuze me!  Can you see the rainbow?", asked the little boy as he ran up to the stranger getting out of his pickup truck.  Pointing to the sky above the man's head he declared, as only a 5 year old can, "It's Right There."  The man  grinned and looking up, agreed.  Yes indeed, that was a mighty pretty sight.

We had planned on going for a swim that afternoon but rain intervened.  It was storming at the lake and we watched as puddles formed and the wind blew.  And after the wind died down and the sky cleared we looked up and saw a magnificent rainbow in the east, arching over the water.....colors of all kinds,dazzling to the eye.  My grandson Gus had never seen a rainbow.  He lives in Yonkers, just north of New York City, and for some reason he had never seen a rainbow in the flesh, as one might say.  He knew all about them..he recited the colors from red to purple for our information...even including indigo.  Yes, Gus is a master of rainbows...they are his favorite things.

We made a quick trip to the store to pick up some snacks and rest before we went for our delayed swim in the lake.  This is where the above conversation took place.

After the man and Gus admired the rainbow Gus stuck out his hand and said,"Hi. My name is Gus.  What's your name?"   The answer came with a smile....."Bill," the stranger answered..."Glad to meet you, Gus."

Running into the store Gus went up to the clerk.  "Have you seen the rainbow?", he asked.  "Not yet but I know it is beautiful" she replied.  And so it went.  Gus coming up to each customer....getting their attention and saying....Have you seen the rainbow?  And without a single miss each person greeted his question with either a Yes or No, not yet...and a smile.  So many smiles on that rainy afternoon.  So much happiness in seeing a small boy announcing a miracle.  

I like to think that those people who met my Gus felt a little better for that encounter.  

Sharing joy.  That is what it is all about, isn't it?