I dragged my daughters this week to fancy outdoor mall here in LA called The Grove. With restaurant dining and an elaborate fountain built by Rick Caruso (who lost the mayorial race to Karen Bass), it’s greatest claim to fame for us was our once sighting of The Rock prior to a movie premiere. As nothing gets me more excited than outdoor concerts on a beautiful summer night, “free” added to the allure. Seriously, I am happy with any music performed aside from a band that includes a waterphone or theremin ( I don’t want nightmares that I am going to be knifed to death by a heartless clown.) I would listen to gospel, country, bluegrass… you name it, but I was tickled and over the moon when I saw they had an R&B band playing covers. Al Green, Mary J, Janet. My daughters could see the writing on the wall. Food for me was out the door. I was taken by the desire to dance, twirling my 13 year old who moderately appeased me with a tiny smile. But a promise is a promise, and food was how I lured them there, so I had to make good on the dinner delivery. After grooving to one Bobby Brown cover, we grabbed wraps from a local market.
Returning outside, they ate while I danced, and after a few more songs, the band took a 15 minute break.
“Okay, let’s go,” they said.
“What?” I protested. “No. Two more songs.”
“Mom, no. You already heard like 7. One more.”
“Two, and we can walk out on the third,” I said.
“Fine,” they agreed, which was funny considering I had the cash, the car and the keys. But I let them think they had the win. They wandered off to look in a few shops while I had my alloted fill of R&B.
I had been dancing in the back, and a lady seated by herself saw me, and made the decision she too would dance. I know this because she stood up, plopped down her bag and said with a Spanish accent, “You dance. So do I.” Then another older gentleman came out of nowhere with lanky limbs flying and popping everywhere and he was dancing with us.
“Come up to the front!” the singer said, but I shook my head. I was bold, and a front row girl, but it felt like too much of a statement. Besides, I was only here for a couple songs. Then a woman from the sidelines took the singer’s cue and moved her way into the open space before the band. Unexpectedly, she had rhythm. I don’t say that in a judgmental way, but she was not screaming R&B fan. She had on a cinched mumu of sorts, was about 65 with long hair in a braid. A moderate hippie. But she boldly took the direction and was grooving. This gave the cue to limbs flying guy who broke through the crowd to join her, and that set everyone off. Three young women in pink spandex took to the dance floor, and a couple, and then an older man, and an Italian guy and a dad and his son, and soon I had to go. The guitarist joined us and the singer came into the mix, and for a minute it was a happy chaos that seemed to be birthed out of the summer air. We all were one pulsating union of strangers, joined by the driving jive of the bass and harmony. No one had a care in the world, and we video taped each other (ha ha, I can’t stop using the word “taped” at my age) and sang out loud. I looked to see if my daughters were coming, to not be surprised to find me in this sudden turn of revelry. I had to share the video and I hope everyone in it is dancing with who they are supposed to and if you are cheating, my bad. But not really.
Then just as spontaneously as it sprang forth, it calmed down, and the band went to a more smoky and slow song. We all backed a little more off to the periphery but still basking in the pulse of our collective dance.
This show could have been just okay. We could have all been in our seats, just swaying and stoically watching, wishing we could take our dancing shoes and let loose but never letting go. Instead, a few people set the stage and allowed the rest of us to follow suit. They made what could have been an average time, and exceptional memorable moment that stayed with me, and changed my mood completely. I felt free, young and on fire, there under the darkening warm sky. When my daughters came back, the band was winding down to their last few songs.
“Ready to go?” they said.
“Yeah,” I said linking arms with them. “I’m complete.”
When was the last time you joined in wild abandon with the rhythm of the night?