written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Unknown source
1967 United States
My Dad left before I was in kindergarten so it was just Mom and me in the house while I was growing up.
To do something fun (& cheap) during my childhood, Mom would dance with me in our cavernous basement. She set up the stereo down there with her record collection. When she was young a thousand years ago everyone danced to big band jazz. And not only did Benny Goodman get his due, her high school also provided classes in ballroom dancing, which Mom took every year. So the end result was she knew the music and steps of most every major dance: the foxtrot, lindy hop, quick step, waltz, rumba, you name it.
As a little kid this was a fun activity and our basement sock hops went on for years at least a couple of times per week. With so much practice I ended up getting pretty good and could easily fling Mom around the dance floor with all the right moves.
By the time I turned 12, however, suddenly dancing with Mom had become kind of icky. I started declining her invitations to dance parties more and more often and she soon figured out what was up. So she said “maybe you’d like to dance with someone your own age ?” In my tween angst I wasn’t too excited about that idea either but Mom wanted me to have at least some social experience. So she arranged for a girl in the neighborhood to come over and I grudgingly agreed.