It was a warm September afternoon in Kenwood. My niece Cassie had exchanged vows with her husband Frankie some 40 minutes earlier and had just wrapped shooting formal photos. Friends of the newlyweds milled about and were anxious to get the reception rolling. When the deejay announced that it was time for the wedding dance, there was applause, then quiet as they began to slowly dance across the floor to a cover of The Beatles “In My Life.”
The music segued to a more upbeat tempo: Walk The Moon’s “Dance With Me.” Then something happened. Frankie unbuttoned his sport coat and cut loose with dance moves the Sweeney/Alcocer/Paulson family hadn’t witnessed since my sister Anne Marie’s “Crocodile Rock” days back in the 1970s. Cassie seemed surprised at times by her husband’s choreography but followed his lead with a simple ease. And it was wonderful.
I think it’s fair to say the men in our family, save my nephew Marcus, sorely lack the Astaire gene. We’re just not dancers. But not any more.
Welcome to the family, Frankie.
I can’t control what happens on the dance floor. The music just takes over. When the music stops I come to immediately
I can attest to the fact that the Alcocer men have long been “wall flowers”. With the exception of an occasional slow dance off to the side of the dance floor. Even with the addition of several alcoholic beverages things do not get much better. I consider my actual dancing ability to that of Elaine on Seinfeld . I feel the Flynn Dancing gene can only help the future of our family.
Tony