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| Story ID: | 2747 |
| Written by: | Veronica Breen Hogle (bio, contact, other stories) |
| Organization: | Irish Cultural Events |
| Story type: | Story |
| Writers Conference: | $500 2007 Family Memories Writing Project |
| Location: | Dublin Ireland |
| Year: | 1960 |
| Person: | Myself |
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HOW TO FIND OUT A LOT ABOUT A MAN … In Just One Night By Veronica Breen Hogle While passing through a store with the same talk show on several big televisions screens, the camera zeroed in on a woman sobbing her heart out. The host put his hand on her shoulder and said they would break for a minute. Now I was interested. When the program resumed the woman had regained her composure but she was still in tears. She explained a man she met on the Internet had duped her and fleeced her. He had been married five times as well. Driving home, I realized that the ways men and women meet have changed drastically. When I was young, it took me just one night to find out a lot about a man. The getting to know you began when he asked, “May I have this dance?” This was in the 1960s, when my big joy was having a hot time in the Crystal Ballroom in Dublin, where my aim was to dance every dance and be one of the first girls up on the floor. While dancing with a good partner, my senses bubbled; that was the hopeful return for the 10 shillings I paid at the door. It was the era when American music was all the rage, and musicians wearing white tuxedos with red bow ties gyrated around the stage while playing the big band sounds mixed with the new beat of rock ‘n roll. And when a female vocalist in a sleek, shimmering dress with matching high-heel shoes and bright red lipstick sang “A Hot Time in the ‘Ole Town Tanight,” our feet pounded in rhythm. During those moments, we had what people yearn for – connection. Each set had three songs. During that time I found out a lot about the stranger who has asked me to dance. Not much was said during the first song, but holding his hand, I knew if he had an office job or if he worked outdoors. His suit might smell of tobacco, and his cologne, soap or lack thereof told me more. His way of guiding me around the floor was a measure of his confidence. And his accent when he asked, “Do you come here often?’ told me what part of Ireland he was from. By the third song, I knew what kind of work he did, and where he lived in Dublin. When the drum signaled an end to the set, we thanked each other and I knew if it was time for me to disappear into the crowd, or remain in plain sight, hoping he would ask me for a second dance. If he asked a third time, chances were we danced for the night. While displaying our creative moves to “let’s Twist Again,” I noticed whether he was good-humored or quick-tempered when we were bumped by the crowd, or if he apologized when he stepped on the pointed toes of my stiletto heel shoes. For the last dance, the band always played, “When the Saints go Marchin’ In,” and we had a hot time rising and falling like waves on the ocean while our feet thundered to the beat. Then we stood to attention like soldiers, sweating, and our hearts hammering while the band played the Irish National Anthem. If he sang it in Irish or English, I had a good clue about his politics. Later, we ate fish ‘n’chips wrapped in newspaper, while we sauntered along the windy streets of Dublin, with only the church bells keeping track of time. Some nights were not so hot. Value for the 10 shillings admission charge was an up and down thing because many of the men did not know how to lead, held me too close or shouted “Volare” in my ear. With them, there was no more eye contact and I’d disappear into the crowd. Other nights there would be three women to every man, or groups of handsome sailors from the foreign ships, who could neither speak English nor dance. Those nights, I left early and ran to catch the last bus home. That was long before people connected by the Internet. Now, how would it be if people got off their computers and went dancing again? What else offers the real connection people yearn for? Makes our senses bubble? How else can a woman find out a lot about a man in just one night? ______________________________ Note: This piece was published in The Buffalo News and the Carlow Nationalist in April 2006. |
