My First Contra Dance Experience; or, A Blessing from The Lord of the Dance

It was 1998. I was still struggling to recover from the tragic events of 1995. (My article: "I Survived 1995 - a personal journey ")

1996 had been a year of trying to push on in a world whose landscape had changed dramatically. I had to mechanically make myself stick to the routines of life. Work, rest, food entertainment. I was having intense manic and depressive episodes every week or two. I dealt with these by walking and self-talking. Build myself up or calm myself down, heavy on the reassurances that things would be ok I worked off the stress and tired myself to keep insomnia at bay.

In 1997 periods of numbness replaced some of the manic and depressive episodes. I would sit for an hour or so, in my bedroom or at a park, just staring off into space, feeling nothing, silence roaring in my head.

In 1998 I was back in some of the saddles of life. I was trying to be involved with remaining family (not easy since I am the hippy offspring of a conservative family) and a promising new job was blossoming nicely, providing me with a level of income I'd never had before. But I was still having manic and depressive episodes. Once a month instead of once a week.

One fine July day I grabbed my camera and hit the road. I could feel an episode coming on and I wanted to try and heal it.

One of the worst things haunting me was the break-up of my marriage. My wife and I had done a lot together. It had been the closest relationship I had ever had with someone. We had been adventure buddies and discovered lots of cool places together.

So, on this day, I set out to make a new memory at a place I liked.

- Roscoe Village in Coshocton, Ohio  -

Roscoe Village is one of those pleasurable living history museums where a town is maintained in some past era style. A blacksmith, canal museum, 1800's dentist office and school house, old time stores and people in costumes are but a few of the highlights. I walked the length of the village two or three times, munched junk food and coffee and took a bunch of pictures Around 6:30 I went to the restaurant for dinner.

Inside, I was surprised to see that the place was packed. Mostly with people my age (late thirties, early forties) and very few children. As I stood waiting to be seated I heard the couple behind me say "I'll bet all these people are from the dance."

In a moment of affable bravery and curiosity I turned around and asked "Excuse me.. What dance?"

They explained that there was a huge dance being held at a pavilion in another nearby park.

- River Rendezvous  -

They explained Contra Dance to me and I was fascinated. I told them I was an amateur photographer and wondered if they thought it would be okay if I came over and took some pictures. They thought I might.

I observed all these "dancers" as I ate my dinner alone. They were all laughing, joking and carrying-on. The couple I had chatted with cast occasional friendly glances my way. They all impressed me as fun and friendly people.

I wandered around the village for an hour or so after my dinner. The dance started at eight and I didn't want to show-up right at the start. I drove over to the pavilion and climbed out of my truck at about 8:30.

- Lake Park Pavilion, Coshocton, Ohio  -

As I approached the pavilion I could hear music wafting faintly across the cooling evening air from the propped open door. A rhythmic thumping could be heard that was occasionally punctuated by louder thumps that drowned out the music. Christmas lights had been strung across the front and a few people were standing on the bricked veranda, chatting with ruddy faces and the breathy voice of people recovering from strenuous activity.

As I entered I took in a sea of bodies dancing the center of a basketball floor sized space. Swirling, twirling, and stepping lively to the fiddlers, guitarists and other band members clothing and faces blurred in a patternistic dervish of activity dictated by a caller.

The thumping I had heard and felt so clearly outside was revealed. The beat of the dancers feet on the wooden floor transmitted through the wooden construction of the pavilion and acted like a drum to the outside world.

I explained to the person at the registration table that I was an amateur photographer, that I had met some dancers at a restaurant and would it be ok if I watched and took some pictures. He said that would be alright.

I was entranced. So entranced that I didn't take very many pictures. I mostly just watched, spell bound, as the dancers whirled and moved around the floor.

There were about a hundred couples arranged facing each other in three long lines. They followed the instructions of a caller who led the dancers through a series of movements which ended with each couple facing a new couple and the steps starting over.

Through this method couples danced their way up and down the lengths of the long lines as long as the music continued, usually about fifteen minutes per set.

People laughed and smiled while perspiring and breathing hard.

I talked with a few people. They all talked of how they loved to come to these dances. Most of the people were from Ohio, from as far away as Cincinnati, and there were a handful of dancers from other states. One couple had even flew their little Cessna down from upper Michigan (not the UP) to attend.

I began talking to a woman who was a dance instructor from Cincinnati. When I remarked that it all looked so complicated and difficult she confidentially replied, "Nonsense. It's easy." and stood up from her chair and held out her hand. Feeling all shy and timid I bolstered my courage, reminded myself that I needed new experiences and took her hand.

The sweet Lord Jesus provided me a miracle that day. I caught on to the dance like I was born to it. After leading me through a few of the most common dance moves the instructor dragged me into the start of the next dance handing me off to another experienced dancer.

"It's his first time, but I think he's a natural." she said as she introduced me and walked away to dance with her boyfriend.

I had only vague ideas of what the caller's terms meant. The dancers at this event were all advanced and the caller only gave one walk through. I reeled erringly a lot as I started calling the moves out to myself as we danced, to try and get the pattern to sink into my memory. It was learning on the fly.

At the end of the set I was ringing with sweat and breathing hard. I didn't think I'd done very well and I turned down requests to dance again to wander off and stand in front of one of the industrial sized fans.

The woman I had just danced with came over saying she couldn't believe I'd never done this before and that I was incredibly good for a first-timer. I assured her I had hardly ever danced and that when I had it had mostly been the round and round in circles of untrained embracing couples slow dancing.

I thanked her for the compliment and told her I didn't quite believe her either. It seemed like I had stumbled so many times that I felt like an oaf. Here eyes went wide with sincerity as she assured me I was good at this. "I've known men who have taken months to get as good as you were on your first try." She looked me in the eye and said "You should dance again." and walked off.

I sat watching through the next dance. The woman I met at the restaurant came over and talked with me a bit. She asked me what I thought and I told her. Then she told me word was getting around that I was good. I demurred, but she coaxed me into the next dance.

It was easier for me this time. Having gained just that little bit of familiarity from the first dance made it easier to remember what was what, when I was supposed to go where and what I was supposed to do when I got there. Again I quietly called out the moves over and over to myself as we danced. It helped my confidence a lot when I noticed that not everyone else got it right every time either, including my partner who had been dancing for three years or so.

At the end of the dance she told me in flushed voice and face that I was indeed a very good dancer. And as I demurred again she grabbed the arm of a passing woman whom she knew and told her she absolutely had to dance with me. "He's incredible." And so we lined up and I was off and dancing again.

At the end, this woman looked at me and said, "Eh, you're not so bad. You still need some work." thanked me, and walked off to grab someone "better" for the next dance.

I went and sat down in front of the fan again. Getting a not so bad rating on my third dance ever seemed pretty good to me, and I let my self feel a little bit of pride. The woman I had met at the restaurant came walking over with the woman I had danced my third dance with. The later saying "So-and-so says this is your first time at a dance." to which I replied "It is."

She studied me with her eyebrows down for a minute and said "If that's true than you really are a good dancer." then she looked at the other woman, "But I don't believe it, he had to have danced before." and she walked away as if something about all this were bothering her.

The woman I met at the restaurant was beaming. "I'm so glad we met. You really should do this more often. Do you like this? Good male dancers are so hard to find. We'd love to have you around."

I was flatteringly stunned.

I danced three or four more times that night finally leaving about midnight. The dance would go on until their were no more dancers to dance. Usually until three or four in the morning is what I was told.

I made the two hour drive home happy and high as a kite on life. Not only had I made a strong new memory for an old favorite place of mine, I had found something new and really cool. And something I was surprisingly apparently good at it.

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