Tunesday : Come Dancing

Come Dancing

(Davies, Ray) Performed by The Kinks

They put a parking lot on a piece of land
Where the supermarket used to stand.
Before that they put up a bowling alley
On the site that used to be the local palais.
That's where the big bands used to come and play.
My sister went there on a Saturday.

Come dancing,
All her boyfriends used to come and call.
Why not come dancing, it's only natural?

Another Saturday, another date.
She would be ready but she'd always make him wait.
In the hallway, in anticipation,
He didn't know the night would end up in frustration.
He'd end up blowing all his wages for the week
All for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek.

Come dancing,
That's how they did it when I was just a kid,
And when they said come dancing,
My sister always did.

My sister should have come in at midnight,
And my mum would always sit up and wait.
It always ended up in a big row
When my sister used to get her own way
Out of my window I could see them in the moonlight,
Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate.

The day they knocked down the palais
My sister stood and cried.
The day they knocked down the palais
Part of my childhood died, just died.

Now I'm grown up and playing in a band,
And there's a car park where the palais used to stand.
My sister's married and she lives on an estate.
Her daughters go out, now it's her turn to wait.
She knows they get away with things she never could,
But if I asked her I wonder if she would,

Come dancing,
Come on sister, have yourself a ball.
Don't be afraid to come dancing,
It's only natural.

Come dancing,
Just like the palais on a Saturday.
And all her friends will come dancing
Where the big bands used to play.

Mum and Dad's 50^th Anniversary is tomorrow and we just got back from celebrating it. I told my brothers last summer that I thought we should plan to go to Nova Scotia for a weekend – our parents would hate for us to rent the church basement and advertise an Open House in the newspaper, and they wouldn't go on a cruise if we paid for one – and at the time, we all agreed that a visit is all they'd appreciate. Then, around Christmas, Kyler said there was no way he was going to waste the time or money to go down in February when they're lucky enough to see us every summer; lucky especially when they don't always act happy to see us. Fair enough, I guess.

Then in mid-January, I happened to look and there was a seat-sale: it was almost too good to pass up. I emailed the prices to Ken, and when he responded, he said that he had seen the same sale and was considering going down with just him and his kids. I said that we'd go, too. He said that he had talked to Kyler the night before and he was definitely not going; Ken thought that either just he and his kids could go or none of us; he didn't want to cause a rift between him and Kyler if we all went without him. Ken then texted me and asked if Dave would call Kyler: he's the only guy who could make sure Kye wouldn't be mad if we all went without him. Dave called and Kyler said that for sure he wasn't going and he didn't care at all if we went without him. So, I opened up my laptop to reserve seats and then Kyler was calling, asking for the flight info. Then he was calling saying that he'd only go for the weekend. Then he was calling to say that he had booked seats on the same flight as us. By the time Ken got around to booking his own tickets, all the seats at the sale price were gone and he had to pay full price. That's what worrying about your little brother's feelings will get ya. Just as well then that Ken had already decided to drive down to haul a motor for Dad, opting to just buy one-way tickets for his two kids and drive them back home.

I got Kennedy to call Mum that night to say that we were coming (and to make sure that she wanted us to come), and Mum was really surprised and delighted. I called the next morning to find out what they wanted to do with us all there, and to my shock, Dad answered the phone. I could count on one hand the number of times Dad has talked to me on the phone, so I knew he was genuine when he told me how happy they both were to hear we were coming down. I told him that I wanted to know if there was a restaurant I should make a reservation at and he said no way: especially in the off season, there's nowhere he'd rather eat than right at home, and as soon as Mum came in the room he asked her opinion, and she agreed. Well, that's easy, too. The takeaway from that conversation was that booking the trip had been the exact right idea.

I sent an email to Ken and Kyler that night to tell them that we weren't going to go to a restaurant and to describe Dad's tone: we had done the right thing even if the parents don't deserve it. Ken replied to the email the next day to say that he had talked to Mum and Dad and that I had been right: they were nearly giddy with appreciation; we were doing the right thing. Kyler waited another day before replying: I hate you all. That evening I was telling Dave about the email chain, and Ken was there, and after I got to the punchline, Ken said, “You see, what Kyler meant by that was...” And Dave cut him off, “I've known Kyler for nearly thirty years. I know what he meant by that and it's hilarious.”

As the trip was approaching, I was thinking that we had to give the parents an actual physical gift, and since I had sent away for letters of congratulations (from the Governor General, Prime Minister, etc.), and I had bought them a share in a gold mine (and had received a frameable stock certificate for that), I figured we could assemble a scrap book (in a 10 page book, after the 7 certificates/letters, we were conveniently left with 3 blank pages and 3 families to fill them). Each family put in a collage of photos and signed our pages as though it was a card, and the whole thing turned out really nice.

The morning of our flight out, Kyler called Ken (who was already on the road) to say that he hadn't realised it was a late night flight. He and Chrissy decided to take a hotel room for the Friday and rent a car to get out to Mum and Dad's on Saturday. After the blowout Chrissy witnessed last summer – when Dad probably threw out Ethan's phone – she had said she was never going down to Nova Scotia again, so I was just happy that she had the grace and charity to join in at all; them limiting their time was a-okay with me. When they met us at the airport, Chrissy looked around and said, “Where's Laura?” I guess no one had told her that Laura couldn't make the trip (which I actually didn't really understand; with a late night Friday flight out and an early morning Monday flight back, Laura would have missed about two hours of work; but despite being a very understanding in-law, Lolo also witnessed the blowout and she's allowed to proceed any way she likes; it's all a-okay.) As Dave explained that Lolo was probably laying out on her couch in her skivvies just about then, Chrissy's face crumpled; she didn't realise that not coming was an option.

So, we made it out there, got a rental van to accommodate taking Ken's kids along with us, and had an eventful late night drive. We were motoring down the road and the car coming towards us seemed too fast or too close and that's when we realised that it was driving on the wrong side of the divided highway, zooming past us on our left. If Dave the speed demon had actually been in the fast lane, we would have had a head-on collision, probably killing all of us. Nice anniversary gift, eh? I considered calling 911, but as there were other cars on the road who could make that call – and as I was hoping that one of them would have been a local who could explain exactly where the car was – I left it to “others” (of course, once I made that decision I felt responsible if anything happened to anyone, but there was nothing on the news the next day about any crashes, so I'll take the no news as good news). So, you'd think Dave would go carefully after that. About a half hour later, getting closer to the woods, the car coming towards us on the highway suddenly threw on its police lights and Dave groaned and pulled over to the side to wait for the officer to make his u-turn and come up behind us. Dave was apparently going 140 km/hr in the 100 and the cop who came to the window for Dave's license and rental agreement was none too happy. After the officer went back to his squad car, we sat and sat on the side of the road, wondering what was taking so long. The cop finally came back and said, “So you're in from Ontario and just picked up the rental at the airport tonight? Well this is your one freebie: my computer is crashed and I can't get anything to come up. I have no way to ticket you. I'm going to let you get on your way and I expect you to slow down.” Imagine that – without his computer, it was impossible for him to ticket us; I was happy for Dave but it doesn't make me feel safer overall. As for the one freebie: that's what the cop in New Brunswick told Dave last summer when he chose not to ticket us for speeding – I think Ella is Dave's good luck charm. So, now it's after 2 in the morning, we're almost to Mum and Dad's (because Dave has the cruise control set to a buck-oh-five), and immediately after a car with one headlight passed us (which was freaking us out because it looked like a motorcycle that was hugging the center line), we came around a corner and here was an accident in the middle of the road, with skid marks down into the ditch, a police car with its lights flashing, and a flatbed tow truck pulling up a destroyed little car. They were taking up so much room that we couldn't pass on the right, and as we sat and considered our options, a man started kicking and kicking at the fender of the car; it was surrealistically violent. A man came over and advised us to pass around to the left, and we crunched those rental tires over broken glass and plastic, wondering what we might have been tangled up in if we hadn't been held for so long at the side of the road earlier. If a person believed in portents...Finally, we arrived at Mum and Dad's.

The next day, the parents were delighted to see us all, with big hugs and smiles. I know that Mum can become overwhelmed when anticipating making a big dinner, so I let her know that I was there for her for whatever she needed. Mum just kept saying that her back was hurting her and that she couldn't sleep the night before and that if she only had a nap...Dad warned her that she was going to have to “dig deep”: neither of them would be having a nap because there was too much to do and we were there for so short a time. 

In the end, we pulled off a big dinner: roast beef; roast chicken with stuffing; mashed potatoes with gravy; carrots; asparagus; turnip; baked beets; peas for Conor; coconut shrimp for Kennedy; frozen lobster thawed out for everyone. Because their anniversary is also Dad's birthday, he requested a special Hawaiian Surprise cake that Mum used to make for him and she pulled that off too. They've lived in that house for sixteen years, and this is the first time we ever all sat together at their dining room table. When Ken was setting it, he said that it would only seat 10 people comfortably and he offered to sit at a separate table with one of his kids. I said no way – the point of us all going down together was to have dinner together, and I suggested putting a kid beside Mum and Dad at each end of the table. In the end, it was wide enough and comfortable enough that Dad wondered why we don't always eat like that. Why indeed.

While we were having dinner, from the other end of the table Ken said, “We've heard Mum's story a hundred times about how you two met. How do you remember it Dad?”

Everyone kept eating, quietly clinking forks and knives on our plates as Dad began to speak:

“There was a show on TV a long time ago called I Love Lucy that most of you here wouldn't know or remember. It was about this smart-talking, good-looking redhead from Brooklyn and the dim-witted, Cuban bongo-player that she married. Like opposites attracting, right? And Lucy and Desi were married in real life, too. After he died, a reporter asked Lucy if it was love at first sight, and she said, “No, it took about five days.”

(Here Dad coughed into his napkin, and when I looked at him, I realised that he was crying. As he began talking again, the eating stopped and the room became completely quiet.)

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to be like this, but you asked. That's the way it was for me, too: it took about five days and I knew.

“When I first got the job with the Bank of Commerce there in Charlottetown, I'd have maybe ten dollars clear a week after paying for my room and board. They paid so little that I honestly wonder if they were trying to pressure us into stealing; just to see who they could trust, right? Anyway, every Saturday night – it didn't cost much – me and my roommate Laurie would go to the dance at the Roll-Away. And that's where I first laid eyes on your mother. And yes, you better believe I noticed her. She was very popular, always up and dancing, and I was not; not popular. I don't know how exactly to describe her.”

Ken piped up with, “Hubba hubba?”

And Dad continued: “No, no, not like that. She was...crisp. I don't know how else to describe it. Like no one I had ever seen before.

“Well, one day, you see, my roommate Laurie – there were ten of us at the boardinghouse and they split us up into pairs and Laurie was a great fella, from down around Blue Rocks and Lunenburg – Laurie worked at the Bank of Montreal and he didn't get paid any better than I did, but it didn't matter as much for him because his grandmother was rich and she doted on him. In the time we lived together, she bought Laurie two different cars. Anyway, this one day we were driving along and we seen your mother and her cousin Karen walking along the side of the road and we pulled over and asked them if they wanted a drive. They got in and that's how it started.

“In the end, we got married very young, but I knew that that would be okay. Your mother had a good family and a good Catholic upbringing, and the values she brought with her, well, they were exactly what a dope like me with my bad behaviour needed at the time. And now it's been fifty years, and there were good times and bad, but I can look at your mother here tonight and say I'd do it all over again. Because I would.

“And I know I've been going on and on here but I want to say two more things. When you have a family – you have kids and they bring people in, and then they have kids – the love is unconditional. As a parent, the love is unconditional for your family. But what's not automatic is respect and admiration. And we respect and admire each and every one of you. Our kids. Kennedy and Mallory; Nan and I are amazed at everything you accomplish. And Laura, who's only here in spirit, but she has our respect. Dave and of course Christine. With the boys, Conor and Ethan, I know that things can get a little nutty, but that's just my way with boys; it's never meant to be disrespectful. Krista here. The first time I met each of you, you had my love, but over time, each of you has earned my respect.

“And the other thing: Down in the village, your mother and I are the envy of everyone. People just can't believe that all of our kids and their families want to come down and visit us every year. There's people there whose kids moved away and have never been back, or people who only get a visit once in a great while. They just can't believe that you all get along with each other and that you want to be together down here with us old people. It's no small thing and we do appreciate it.”

And with that, we raised our glasses for a toast to fifty years.

From Mum's end of the table, she interjected: “I just want to add that I had noticed your Dad at the Roll-Away, too. When me and Karen got in that car that day – Karen in the front with Laurie and me in back with Dad – I asked your father why he had never asked me to dance. He said that since we didn't know each other, he was afraid I'd say no. So I told him, 'If you ask me to dance, I won't say no.' And I didn't.”

And the glasses were raised once more.

Come dancing,
All her boyfriends used to come and call.
Why not come dancing, it's only natural?

(This took a long time to get to the reason for this week's song choice, but isn't it perfect? Not only is it on theme, but it's from 1982 – which is where I am in my life's overall story arc – and it's by The Kinks; a band that might have been heard doing You Really Got Me at the Rollaway when Mum and Dad first met. I imagine them doing the watusi. The frugue.)

We had cake and champagne and the glasses were raised for the last time as Mum and Dad pored over the scrapbook (which was a big hit and all the present they needed). It just all went very very well. After the cleanup and a bit more visiting together, everyone went off to their beds. Mum told us later that as Kyler went upstairs, he stopped and leaned against the banister and said to her wistfully, “Who would have ever thought that we would end up as a normal family?” How extraordinary. How dangerously close to speaking truthfully about this nutty group of people. Too close, actually, so we laughed it off as quirky old Kyler and clung to the memory of Dad's teary speech and his professed love and admiration for us all: that's who we want to be.

The next day, Dad got up early and took Conor and Ethan out for a 5 am breakfast, and when they got back home, they all went back to sleep. When Dad got up for the second time, we could see that it was going to be a black day: Dad without enough sleep is a dangerous situation. He knows that, too, and spent most of Sunday away from the rest of us; puttering in his garage and throwing the ball for his dog. Kennedy spent most of the day amusing the cousins – hanging out with them down by the lake as they skipped stones across the skim of ice; setting up the Risk board; playing Spoons and Old Maid – and she texted me a few times to ask if Pop was mad at her. I kept reassuring her that he was just tired, but she eventually texted back to say that he apparently was mad at all of them: when Conor asked if they were still going to go to Stewie's convenience store for a treat, Dad said, “No, I already went by myself because youse guys were throwing rocks in my lake”. Well, bah. I half understand the rule against throwing rocks in the lake in the summertime (because that's potentially unkind to submerged turtles?) but that's a pretty weakass excuse for punishing a couple of little boys who were trying to amuse themselves with sticks and stones and little else. We had only all been together for twenty-four hours at that point.

Dad eventually went for a nap – during which time Chrissy and Kyler went to Stewie's and bought treats for everyone – and since they had done more than enough just by showing up for the weekend, they decided to leave for the hotel in Halifax around 3 pm; have a dinner out and maybe enjoy the hotel pool. Ethan went downstairs to let Pop know they were leaving, but when he came back up nearly immediately, Ethan said, “Pop told me to get the hell out and turn the damn light off.” Ken came in shortly after that and I let him know what had happened and he went down to wake the bear. Of course Dad did want to say goodbye and he came up for hugs and thank yous, but naturally, no apologies. Funny how a person's half-conscious actions can cancel out the goodwill built from a teary and love-filled speech from the night before.

We stayed for dinner and then left for the hotel ourselves, getting lots of hugs and thank yous; they were certainly sincere with their appreciation and I'm just left thinking: going down was the right thing to do, more than they deserved from us (I know I keep saying that, but it's so true), and I have no idea where we go from here. I absolutely believe that Chrissy doesn't want to go back down this summer; maybe she never will again. Maybe Lolo was just taking the first step in not playing along anymore either; not pretending we're “a normal family after all”. After not feeling very welcome down there last year myself (at that time Dad told me that everyone in the village laughs at him because he has company – us – for weeks nonstop every summer), I was flirting with the idea of having an actual summer vacation with my own family this year; doing my part to stop Dad's nonstop nightmare. But how to do that in the wake of Dad's speech? How does he say all that for the first time and then we stop coming? Which are the real Mum and Dad: the ones who spend all our time together ignoring or growling at us, or the ones who hug us when we leave?

Fifty years of that and they'd do it all over again. Huh. I don't know if I would want to grow up in that battlefield all over again; Lucy and Desi certainly knew when to call it quits.