Daddy Daughter Dance

Daddy Daughter Dance came to mind today. I always called him "Daddy." Never dad or father. No matter how old I was. I could always cuddle with him. I was still sitting on his lap last year. Once I got engaged it seemed time to stop, but I'd still snuggle with him. A very un-American thing to do. Nothing against America. I get the no hugging, no touching thing. It's just not me. My dad was a surprisingly affectionate man, when it came to his daughters, dog, or cats. Otherwise he was pretty hands off.

The very American connotation of "Daddy Daughter Dance" calls to mind his uprooting to this country. Even though my father and I never went to such a dance, the closest we got was a Daddy-Daughter Skate (at Skate World in Troy), where I insisted he put on rollerskates. Seeing his tall and graceful frame turn to wobbly Jell-o was hilarious until he almost immediatly fell backwards and broke his wrist.

I felt horrible, but he wasn't mad at me. He didn't care that I made him do it. Dancing on skates with me is what he wanted too. Dance is what brought him to this country, and is one of our connections. While I came to love music and singing more than dancing, my sister Sasha continued to study and is an accomplished dancer. Our childhood was a huge party, where there would be musicians and dancing until all hours. I kid you not. Think back to first grade. Did you have trouble sleeping because a Tamburitza Band was playing in your backyard? As much as I like them, Slavic Soul Party has nothing on those bands, but go to their website, and you may get a taste of what my childhood felt like. : )

I think this kind of background is why for years throughout high school and college I always said I wanted to open a World Music and Dance Institute - to study these arts and present them. It was in my blood. Why was it I would hear Serbo-Croatian music and hear something beautiful when my more American friends would ask me to turn off my "Lederhosen Bier Garden Music" I never understood why no one loved the music like I did. Why did I seek to learn as much as I could about the music, the culture, attending barn dances during college, when most students were attending frat parties? Why did I take Serbo-Croatian lessons when I'd already completed my language requirement in Italian. Why was I digging up old records and signing up for Slavic film and music classes? I wanted to be close to him, close to his culture, his people. My father was a mystery to me my whole life. I loved him. I wanted to be like him. I wore his clothes in high school. A 6 foot 2, 200 lb man's clothes on my 5 foot 71/2, 130 lb frame. I asked him to give a presentation to my class in 2nd or 3rd grade. The kids thought he was cooler than a basketball star - he made his life sound…no, his life WAS that cool. He talked about jumping off bridges, and riding sleds tied to trucks, and swimming lengths of rivers, finding dead bodies. I mean, he was like the Serbian Paul Bunyan, a crazy mythical character, but with a way cooler moustache! Dance he did. Dance in conversations - you could ask him about any topic and he could dance around it for hours. Hours. I'm not kidding, his photographic memory and simple eloquence made him an ideal story teller. It was almost as if you asked him a question, and a fire lit up behind him and soft Mozart began to play - he was entrancing.

I would ask him to show me traditional Serbian and Croatian dances sometimes, we'd put on some music and dance in the kitchen. Even though he was very weak, we danced at my wedding, before he died I showed him some of my hip hop dance class moves to cheer him up, and after he died, I find that same class is a God-send.

The last word: Dance on.