Headline: Dancing…
Mon., June 23, 11:27 AM
An item in the news states that mental exercise, like playing chess or doing puzzles, can help prevent dementia. However, to the surprise of the researchers, physical exercise doesn’t seem to make any difference – except for dancing. They’re currently conjecturing that perhaps the social requirements of dancing constitute some kind of mental challenge. By definition dance is patterned movement, which includes a large variety of dances. The intricacies of the patterns do indeed become a mental exercise. (If nothing else, you have to count.)
Despite all the dancing lessons I took as a child, I never considered myself a dancer. I would have liked to be, but certainly everyone else in the classes was a better dancer than I was. That was true through ballet, modern dance, and Music Workshop, which included dance as well as music appreciation. When I was about seven years old, I remember walking “downtown” every week – maybe six or seven blocks – with a dollar in my pocket to pay for the lesson. What amazes me now is that I felt perfectly safe!
Well, Music Workshop turned me more toward music, and then I was taking violin lessons instead of dancing lessons. Being private lessons, these were more expensive; now I was carrying two dollars. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, it’s not that I was a virtuoso on the violin, but I really enjoyed it more.
But when I was in high school, everyone took ballroom dancing. It was almost like a required class – except that it wasn’t part of the school system. Once or twice a week (depending on your budget, I guess), almost everybody I knew went to “Phil and Pat” to dance. We learned waltz and foxtrot, we learned Latin dances like the tango and the rumba, and we even lindied to “Rock Around the Clock.” Of course, classes also included etiquette like requesting (or accepting) a dance, as well as when one was permitted to cut in. Once again, I was far from the best dancer there, but I learned enough not to feel out of place at parties where people danced. Years later, when I met Husband, who was a very good dancer, I could at least follow his lead.
In college I discovered folk dancing – mostly Israeli folk dancing. It was all tied up in liking the music and the people I met and, as often happened, there was this cute boy… Long after I lost interest in the boy, I was still dancing with my friends – even on television.
Well, I still don’t consider myself a dancer, particularly since Husband lost interest in it even before he broke his hip. (So I’ve lost my partner.) But when I compare myself to the young people I know, I begin to think maybe I’m more of a dancer than I thought. (Asked to classify the movements of a certain rock star, I once answered “epilepsy.”) Maybe I should dig up some of my old records and see if I remember the steps. The effort of remembering should add a few years to my brain.
