The Last Waltz

We all have them in our families. You know whom I mean. They come out during most large-scale family gatherings, but especially during wedding receptions.

They are the Ballroom Dancers.

They are the couple who twirl around the perimeter of the dance floor, doing dances that have steps and names--the waltz, the fox trot, the cha cha--there are more, but this list exhausts my knowledge of the nomenclature. They gaze into each others eyes, chins held aloft, expressions haughty, disdain for the uninitiated...obvious.

Their entire raison d'etre is, of course, to make the rest of us feel inadequate. When the tempo is slow, we plod along like farmers pushing plows. Up-tempo numbers are worse--what we had once thought of as free and rhythmical movement is now revealed to be spasticity. Even the poor, deluded souls who had bought into--ptui--disco--look curiously quaint in comparison to the ballroomers.

In my family, they were Grand-Aunt Phyllis and her husband. Year after year, event after event, they twirled and dipped to their own enjoyment and to the dismay of the jerkers and plodders.

Then one year, Aunt Phyllis showed up alone. Her husband had trotted his last fox. She sat disconsolate, his absence particularly poignant when the music began. Compassionate relatives led her onto the dance floor, but their meager abilities only served to underscore her loss. Her Arabian could not be replaced by a succession of well-meaning mules.

A few months later came the stunning denouement. Another wedding, another reception, another band. When the music began, suddenly there was Aunt Phyllis, strutting, whirling, and dipping with a new partner, one who mirrored her every move. He had to--his feet were attached to hers. He was inflatable.

The smiles that day were radiant. There was no mockery, no looking askance. I was proud of both families for that. There were but two questions that remained to be answered. Would Aunt Phyllis's aerobic escort have a seat at her table? (He did.) And was he anatomically correct? (He was not.)