Dancin in the Streets!

 

Marching up 32^nd street on a cloudy Saturday morning, I cross Roosevelt after looking both ways. As I start up the final block before McBryde, I see them up ahead. In the middle of the street. Two columns of dancers, practicing a routine. Their dance looks like something out of a Jane Austin movie, with turns, stomps and syncronicity. As I get closer, I see that it’s a group of young men, maybe in their late teens or early twenties. They are all dressed nearly the same—black slacks, fancy vests, white shirts. Their dark heads twirl and their hands are folded neatly behind their backs.

            It’s a fancy dance with much ritual and form.

            “Uno…..dos….tres!” the leader calls out and they all fall into the rhythm until one of them doesn’t. Then they break into a gleeful group laugh, patting each other on the back, before lining up again in their parallel columns.

            What could they be practicing for? I wonder. It is a sister’s wedding? A fiesta for a friend arriving from out of town?

            As I come up beside them, I can’t hide my huge grin of delight. One of them gives me the peace sign. Who the hell uses the peace sign anymore? These kids (okay, young men) are from an era way after the Summer of Love. Maybe the peace sign has come back into vogue?

            I give the peace sign back. They all start laughing. One of them shouts, “Good morning!”

  

          “Good morning!” I holler back. “Buenas dias!” I shout for good measure.

            They all chorus “Buenas dias!” at me, their exhuberance ringing out into the street.

            No neighbors are out watching. This is odd with such a show. But maybe everyone is off on their Saturday errands. They’re at Home Depot. They’re scouring garage sales. They need to shop at Safeway. Or, everyone is inside, engrossed in their phones and their enormous TVs, watching Netflix or playing dinosaur games on huge consuls.

            As I pass them, I hear the rhythm being called out again: “Uno!... Dos!... Tres!” They start the routine again. This time it’s in sync. They’re looking good. It’s almost time for the celebration.

            Whatever that may be.

            For me, the celebration has begun my day. It all seems like a dream as I head up the street and turn left onto McBryde. I see Luna, the large white husky, and her owner, the super polite young man up ahead. Do I tell them about the dancing?

            Nah.  I turn down 31^st street before meeting them. I’m humming a tune that is in my head, the melody one that comes to me out of the foggy morning: “Uno…dos…tres….Peace… today….peace!”

            Grinning to myself, I continue down 31^st, searching for the gray plush cat in her overgrown garden of california drought resistant foliage. She’s nowhere to be found, but that’s okay as a brisk breeze hits me in the face and I quicken my step.