Tap. Tap. Tap.

Shuffle. Slap. Stomp. Scuffle. Stamp. Chug. Leap.
That’s me, tap-dancing. I’m taking tap-dancing lessons, and I’m not doing badly at all. I’m in a class of five women and one guy, all over the age of 55, who are tying to keep their bodies moving and their blood pumping.
The last time I took tap I was five years old and my mom had to take me on a bus to the lessons. That all lasted about six months. My mom did her best to socialize me to her standards. Most of it didn’t work. But she tried.
Now, of course, at the age of 87, what she is, is “trying.” She says she’s hearing voices singing Polish Christmas songs. And sometimes it’s at odd hours — like 4 a.m. Now, it’s possible that, given the building full of octogenians in which we live (me excluded, of course), someone just might be up at 4 a.m. playing and singing Polish songs. It’s possible.
And as for me at the age of 63, I’m trying to tap-dance. After all, there’s more to life than blogging, right?

1 thought on “Tap. Tap. Tap.

  1. Go Crone!
    Use it or lose it, and never more true than as we get more “mature.”
    Of course, I keep telling myself that as I spar with guys 15-25 years younger than me and I’m doing my best just to avoid getting hit. But every now and then I surprise myself – and them too.
    “Though much is taken, much abides; and though
    We are not now that strength which in old days
    Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are —
    One equal temper of heroic hearts,
    Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
    To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

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