I rented a hall. I hired a d.j./dance teacher. I invited everyone, and threw myself one zippaddeedooda of a 41st birthday party.

who came?

My family, my neighbors, the guy who opened a coffee shop on the corner, co-workers from the job I just quit, high school friends, camp friends, college friends, Jewish community friends, writing group friends, moms’ group friends, my sister’s moms’ group friends, old family friends, dance class buddies, and 14 kids all under 5.

Professional dancers, people who love to dance, people who are terrified of dancing, people who have never danced in their lives, injured people, people who were willing to give it a go, and 14 kids all under 5 wiggling, jumping, spinning, and getting down.

the dance lesson

I figured if you are going to invite people who’ve never done swing dancing to a swing dancing party, you should provide lessons. Rose would have preferred to dance every song with Miriam, but she was brave enough to hold hands with grown-ups and little boys. (David would have preferred to cling to me, but we sent him home with the grandparents and they say he went sweetly to sleep.)

the dancing

swing, waltz, boogie, a chorah, pogo, the electric slide, more swing. Have you ever been at a party where you thought, that’s a great song, and that one, yeah, yeah, that one too? I led. I followed. I swooped gracefully around the room. I bumped and grinded. I didn’t sit down for three hours.

It was a great party.