Good Morning and Good Monday Cool Cats and Hot Kittens! Don’t know about your neck of the woods but it’s been hot here lately. In fact, it’s been so hot, the cows have been giving evaporated milk. Anyway, hot, is fine with me for summer’s my favorite season.
I can’t say what exactly prompted today’s poem other than the flash of a memory came to me about my youth and days in 4-H. One of our activities was the formation of a square dance team, which got to be pretty good. We performed at various functions and competed against other 4-H teams. One year we finished in 4th place in the state competition, which far exceeded any of our dreams. Most importantly, we had a heckuva lot of fun dancing and learning new calls and formations. You might say it was a mind-body experience.
So, today’s bad poem is about those days. I’ve changed the names of many to protect their innocence and took literary license to dramatize their lives. Some of our dance group have, sadly, died far too young. But everyone of them was a good soul, handsome and beautiful, smart and sassy, and so talented beyond the dance floor.
To them, I dedicate this poem.
The Square Dance
by ZJ Czupor
Our mothers sewed our shirts and skirts,
The green paisley pattern that matched,
They were so proud of their handiwork,
And they should have been because our clothes,
Hugged our young curves and muscles just right.
The first time we wore our outfits together,
We looked like a team—a square dance team,
Eight, clean-cut 4-H kids practicing in the old hall,
Above the old store, with the out-of-tune piano,
Sadly, the old hall and old store no longer stand.
Harlan and Marilyn, Shirley and Curly Joe,
Big Jim and Jennie Sue, Tawny McGee and Me,
Stood proud and tall with smiley faces,
Then we’d take off with an allemande left, do-si-do,
And a right and left grand until we returned home.
Then to get fancy, the ladies would sashay into the middle and whoop,
The men (or boys, rather) would pass through, separate, weave the ring,
And box the gnat, all code for variations on a theme,
Changing partners until we returned home.
Little did we know as we boot-scooted to the country music,
That our square dance had roots in old England’s country dances,
And their French cousins doin’ the quadrille,
A fancy term for four couples dancing in a square.
Who knew we were a little star in a vast universe,
Of dancers in green paisley shirts and skirts allemanding left,
With our forebearers who danced throughout wars, revolutions, and pestilence,
And all they wanted was to just return home.
No sir. We had no idea as we do-si-doed through the Cold War,
With the backdrop of rock ‘n roll, black ‘n white TV, and civil rights protests,
No sir. We were memorizing calls with crossed hand holds, stepping to the beat,
Learning when to go right instead of left,
Before we returned home.
The years past and we boot-scooted our separate ways.
Harlan went to Nam and never came home.
Marilyn passed away way too young from cancer.
Shirley became an artist down in Florida.
Curly Joe fell asleep at the wheel on Dead Man’s Curve.
Big Jim also went to Nam but he came home and became a damn good lawyer.
Jennie Sue ran for governor and lost in a re-count.
Tawney McGee kissed me once behind the old store,
Last I heard she started a world-famous tech company.
And me, I dream of my green paisley shirted and skirted friends,
And wish they could return home for one last right and left grand.
Oh Z! This is just perfect. (Shirley)
This is lovely! How creative! And based on a true story....