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The summer of 1966 was really hot, but I was too young to care, or perhaps the outside temperature matched that of my internal hormonal temperature. Every Saturday night there was a dance at the Old Mill, a hang over from the 1950’s, but it gave us a chance to stay in touch with each other during the summer, connected us to to the mysteries and horrors of stepping into a new grade once we returned to school in September by the upper class-men, and more importantly a chance to express these hormonal changes that were coursing though my body.

Me [?], I was a bit too tall, straight dirty blonde hair from lazy summer afternoons at the swimming pool, really tight white Levi jeans, a V necked sweater, sleeves pushed up just so, and the all important brown suede Beatle boots. So there we stood, like two opposing forces, the boys on once side of the dance floor, the girls on the other, we pretended not to look across “no man’s land,” but we did.

The music blared from a single big public address system, and I knew that finding the 45’s I’d brought was going to be a challenge at the end of the night, but right then, all I wanted to do was feel the tension in my stomach, and dance with one of those guys on the other side of the room. Now there was no way any of those boys were going to venture over and try their hand while the Everly Brothers laid out some romantic slow ballad, but when the record “Surfin' Bird” slid down the changer, it seemed to fire the guys up, the power and strength of the music gave them courage. Game java rpg china 240x320 java. And before I knew it, I was strutting my stuff, shaking my hips a la Shindig, rolling through dance steps like The Pony, The Hully Gully, The Mashed Potato, and The Swim.

Accidentally, or perhaps accidentally on purpose, our hands would touch, or better yet our hips, and I was in heaven. That is until that insane laughter, which seemed to go on forever in the middle of the song, where the music completely stopped, and we were forced to stand there, not moving, face to face, unable to voice words, wanting to run back to the safety of our side of the room, and desiring for all the world that the music fade back in. And I could again be lost in the self ecstasy of the dance. Libro ajuste de cuentas vicens castellano pdf to word gratis.

This is what music is all about, the freedom, no judgements, no pretenses, just and infectious hypnotic driving beat. The vocals were laughable, but sincere, like Maynard G. Krebs from Dobie Gillis on acid. The song will never be as good as the memories it sparks, and I’d give a million dollars to feel those stomach flip flops once again, but for now, I have the song. And for now that’s good enough.