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Kick up Your Heels

Story ID:2736
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Musings, Essays and Such
Writers Conference:$500 2007 Family Memories Writing Project
Location:Dayton Ohio USA
Year:2006
Person:Deb
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Kick up Your Heels

Kick up Your Heels


Kick Up Your Heels

I hadn't been back to Ohio in more than two years. I missed my
friends. An invitation from my dear friend Deb came in the mail. It
was for her 50th birthday party. Ginny and I accepted.

We drove ten hours, arrived late Friday evening, and helped
decorate. I had the privilege to meet many of my old friends and
introduce my lovely bride, Ginny, to those who hadn't had the privilege
on our last visit.

The next night, the DJ set up, the caterers brought in the food,
and guests began to arrive. There were a lot of new faces in the group.
All the old gang was there, but new people had moved into the
neighborhood. They were quickly adopted into Deb's family of friends.

Deb is a huge fan of the Scottish heritage and its charm. She
writes romance stories based on that era. I had a surprise for her.
Ginny and I went downstairs. She helped me get into a Scottish costume.
As we adjusted my belt and sash, I asked, "Do you think I should go
natural under my kilt?"

"Not in this crowd." she was quick to reply.

Ginny and I entered the room, where the DJ was set up. The guests
were outside eating, talking, and enjoying a wonderful evening. I
grabbed the microphone, "Deborah, I want to wish you a happy birthday.

"For those who don't know me, my name is Michael. Deb and I have
been writing buddies and friends for many years. It's a real pleasure
to be here on her special day.

"Deb, if you will step in here, I have a little surprise for you."

She walked in the room, saw me in my costume and started to laugh.
She walked up to me on rubbery legs. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around my shoulders for support.

She gained control of herself, "Michael! I love you! You're a nut!
This is the best birthday present ever."

I huggd her back, "I love ya, sis."

Cameras flashed as she lifted the back of my kilt for all to see.
My Ginny is a wise woman. Within twenty minutes, my kilt was lifted
four times, by different ladies.

I changed back. It wasn't safe out there in a kilt.

The DJ played '50's Rock-n-Roll all night long. An hour went by.
No one danced. The DJ put on "The Twist." I rushed to Ginny, who talked
to one of my old friends. "Come on, Hun. Let's dance!"

"Not right now, Hun. I'm talking to Ralph. How about in a little
bit? Is that OK?"

"OK," I was disappointed, but I understood. She didn't want to be
rude.

I walked around the patio. The urge to dance was strong. I passed
a group of people. A lady standing with her husband caught my eye.
She asked, "Doesn't anyone do the twist anymore?"

"They sure do!" I said. "Come on! Let's go!"

I tossed my shoes to the corner - I can't twist in shoes. We
twisted around the room. I twisted low to the floor, spun in a circle,
and twisted back up again. In the background, I heard Ginny
encouraging me, "You go, Baby! Go baby!"

The song ended - another began. My partner and I continued to
dance. Ginny joined us. Soon, another joined us. I danced with five,
then six, then ten to twelve ladies.

We stood in a circle, danced, sang, laughed and smiled.

Ginny strutted her stuff. My little gal sure knows how to
move. We rarely get the chance to dance together. It was only the
third time we have had the chance to strut our stuff together.
We made the best of it.

Later that evening, the DJ called me over, "Mike, do you
think you, Bruce (Deb's husband), and a few other guys would be
willing to act out 'The Village People's' song, 'YMCA?'"

"I'm game." I replied.

We gathered a group of guys together. The DJ handed us
hats - I was the construction worker. The music started. Guests
flowed in from the patio and circled the dance floor.

Bruce hopped to the center of the room, spun in a circle,
kicked his feet out, and appeared to be a gypsy in a policeman's
helmet, as the rest of us sang into inflatable microphones. We
took turns dancing to the center of the roomto show our moves, and
make complete fools of ourselves.

I had the elegance of a walrus. My feet kicked out. My arms
reached high. "At the Y-Mů" My arm hit my construction hat and sent
it flying across the room. A lady - it might have been my twist
partner - jumped out of the way.

The music came to a stop. The guests cheered. Bruce and I
looked at each other, "That was fun!" he said.

I shook his hand. "Bruce, this is a great party. Thank you."

Ginny and I like to have a good time and are not afraid
to make a fool of ourselves. We lie to have fun.

I once waved out a window at passing cars and learned
the magic of the clown inside. That night was no different. By
the time the party ended, Ginny and I knew everyone there.

After the kilt lifting, they knew me very well.

Don't hold the clown inside. Let it out. Kick up your
heels, have some fun, and laugh. You won't have to find new
friends, they'll come to you.

Michael T Smith