Stories

Tonight we had dinner and dancing as part of the Rally. Now, Dave and I are not dancers by any stretch of the imagination. So we planned on sneaking out after dinner. But my social butterfly wanted to stay. Most of the people there are my age or older. There are a few who are obviously younger, but not many. Many are considerably older. I have had several people tell me their ages were in the late 70's and older. We are a pretty average looking bunch of oldies--no botox or face lifts that I can see. Very few well-honed athletic bodies. On the whole, though, maybe the group is sprier for the age bracket, as this lifestyle tends to attract those that are able and young at heart.

As we sat there watching others dance, I was feeling very strange--what was I doing with this bunch of old people. Was this the right decision we made to align ourselves with this--old people doing the chicken dance?

But then I started to reflect and look at the faces of many of the people with whom I had talked. Over the last several days we have learned stories of many of the couples. Many have remarried after the deaths of first spouses. Some after divorce. Many are still married to their original sweethearts. But watching couples dance was heart-warming and emotional.

A couple danced the Tennessee Waltz using the old southern steps. He beamed at her as they twirled and stepped skater style around the dance floor.

Many couples knew the country western two-step and danced to all the western tunes, kicking up their heels like teenagers.

An older gentleman danced with his daughter, who was probably in her forties. We had lunch at their table yesterday and from what we can surmise, his wife died a short time ago and his daughter accompanied him to the Rally in place of her mother. What a loving daughter to do that. From watching him, he was obviously a great dancer, and he twirled his daughter around the floor. He was proud, and her face was beaming. What a gift she was giving him--and those of us who watched.

A man got up and sang the song "My Girl" in the most beautiful tenor voice to his wife. Every time he said "my girl" he looked at her.

By the end of the dance (which was 9:30 pm so the old folks could get to bed on time) even Dave and I got up and danced the last dance--a slow romantic tune.

Maybe these people all feel the same as we do--we still have the same dreams, the same desires, the same thirst for life that we did many years ago. We certainly don't feel old.