by Rachel Gates

Created on: April 27, 2008

Imagine that you are seven years old in a room surrounded by people who are between 35 and 87 years old. You are standing next to your dance partner who is easily two feet taller than you. You've been eyeing the cookies on the potluck table for the past couple minutes, but suddenly, the music starts up and you forget everything. Your foot starts tapping of its own accord and you wait for the caller to begin. Once you start moving to the beat, your feet keep time and your brain starts whirling like clockwork.

I was six years old when my mom started Square Dancing. Every time she came home from dancing, she looked as if she had had the greatest time in the world. She would put on some music and demonstrate moves with names like "Allemande Left" and "Weave the Ring." She wore beautiful dresses with "fluffies", the name my little brother gave to her petticoats. She looked like she was having so much fun that I had to find out what Square Dancing was all about.

My mom brought me to the church basement where a caller was setting up his microphone and record player as the dancers laughed and talked. I was shy, but my mom encouraged me to try lessons and she would be my "angel", a term for someone who mentors beginning dancers. We joined a square of three other couples. I could see them roll their eyes at me as if to say, "You have got to be kidding. A seven year old, dancing with us? Nonsense. She's way too young." Even the caller gave me a look before starting the lessons. My mom smiled reassuringly at me. I swallowed, and then I began to learn my first move: Allemande Left. It was such a simple move but it looked so cool to me that I soon forgot I was seven years old. I forgot the other dancers were older and more experienced. For that moment, I wasn't just a kid; I was part of something. Everybody was moving to the same beat. Every person represented a piece of a moving puzzle as we listened intently to the caller for the next move. Every dance was different, and every square of eight people made each moment different from the last.

I soon learned more than ninety moves, and instead of people rolling their eyes at me, they smiled. Sometimes I had to run to keep up with them, and of course there were times that I messed up but it didn't matter. What did matter was that we had fun dancing. The very next year, I was an "angel" for my little brother. He quickly learned the moves and we went with our mom to the Minnesota State Square Dancing Conventions where we met thousands

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