There was nothing so exciting in the life of a young teenager than the anticipation of the Friday night dances held at the Knights of Columbus. The music of Frankie Lane, The Diamonds, and The Everly Brothers with words that seemed like they were written just for you. We would swoon and let the words and rhythm flow into our hearts like a river finding its outlet. Then there was Elvis who drew out the energy that is so pent up in teenagers and we would let it all hang out shaking our limbs and hands with full abandon.
The scene played out every week; the girls on one side of the room and the boys on the other. We had primped and fussed over our appearance and now had to wait to be “asked.” There was tension before each dance as the announcer called out the song and we prayed we would not be left standing.
When we were picked to dance our hearts would flutter, and more often than not our palms would be sweaty.
It was a time of discovering who we were. We looked into the lyrics of the music, the eyes of our partner, the way our feet behaved and tried to put it all together. What did Connie Francis know when she sang My Happiness, or Frankie Avalon when he talked about Venus. Would any one Run All the Way Home for us, like the Impalas crooned about. Would any one ask us to Put Your Head on My Shoulder like Paul Anka asked?
The love songs had such promises of unexplored passion it took us up great heights. The sad songs thrilled us in terms of the possibilities of being so much in love. We longed to feel the pain of unrequited love just for the experience. Wake up Little Suzie and Chantilly Lace fed our imagination as we looked for the deeper meaning of such encounters.
It was a night that always ended too soon. Our chaperoned ride home was a time for basking in the afterglow of fun and magical moments. We analyzed every dance, every look, ever gesture and let our minds conjure up stories that were more exciting than the words we had just listened to.
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