By Sharon Synowsky
“If I could get another chance,
Another walk, another dance with him
I’d play a song that would never, ever, ever end
How I’d love, love, love
to dance with my father again.”
— Luther Vandross, “Dance With My Father”
One of my first memories is dancing with my Dad. I was 4. He had on a black shirt and shorts. I had on a very 70’s green shorts set (think bold green stiped polyester). Gordon Lightfoot or Jim Croce was on the stereo. My Dad scooped me up, spun me around, swayed back and forth while singing and laughing because I was giggling. I had my arms around his neck, trying to sing along with him. Thus a tradition was born.
Now, back then, at least in my family, the radio was always on in the background. The TV was too much of a distraction, but the radio was a quiet background for conversation. And if a song Dad and I liked came on, we would dance, no matter where we were. Visiting my Baba and Pap? We’d dance and they’d laugh and applaud while watching, their faces filled with love and happiness. A gathering at our house? Dad and I would turn the kitchen (gathering place for every family in the 70’s & 80’s) into an impromptu dance club for a song or two. Mom would dance with my little brother, aunts and uncles would dance with each other…
One night, my Dad had a piece of a song stuck in his head. A bit of melody…enough to bait the line but not enough to make the catch. He spent the next hour or so calling radio stations, humming what was there, with no luck. Until FINALLY, one DJ recognized the song… and said he’d play it in the next hour (without telling my Dad the song, guaranteeing we’d be listening because, you know, back then, ratings…). The song was ‘Killer Queen’ and we all – my Dad, my Mom, me, my brother and my Aunt, all got up and danced. One of my favorite memories (added bonus was getting to stay up past normal bedtime).
Even into my teens, Dad and I would dance. Not as regularly, but often enough. He was getting into the Doo Wop era of music. He would spin, dip, lift, ‘unfurl’ me – I trusted him with every new move he taught me, because I knew he’d never drop me or let me fall.
And he never did…
When my parents split, and my Dad moved from state to state to state, our dancing together became something we both began to cherish even more. Whether I went to visit him, or he came to see me, the agenda’s #1 activity was “Dance”. First thing we did each visit, and last thing before parting, was to dance. The final 11 years of his life, the song he chose to dance to was a Doo Wop version of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”. I don’t remember the name of the group who sings that version. I have spent the past 4 years trying to find it.
You see, my Dad died from Covid on January 9, 2021. He was in Texas, wanted to be buried in Arkansas next to his second wife. I was 3 weeks out from spinal surgery, during a pandemic we still knew very little about. I was prohibited from travelling. I never got to say goodbye.
What has sustained me, what has helped me, is the memory of our first dance together. And the memory of our last dance together. It was in my Loft (which is another BIG reason I was loathe to leave there). It was July, he had on his typical old guy striped shirt and shorts. I had on a very 2019 summer short set (think bold green striped cool cotton). We kept moving after the song ended.
As if we knew…
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