Let's just remember the dancing

For now, let's just remember the dancing.

In the old photographs from the 1940s and 1950s everyone in the family is always around and involved with one another. Talking with family today, they tell stories which always involve everyone else. It might be impossible for my aunts and uncles and cousins to share any story without referencing others in the family. Family was family and family was friend.

They ate together. Laughed together. Worked together. Lived together. And danced together.

So, for now, let's just remember the dancing because much of their life happened together. My family was connected with one another.

And happy.

And they danced in little rooms.   Young and old. Children. Cousins.  The hip, young daughters and the lovable, laughing fathers. 

My mom says that they always thought that everyone grew up that way. Amazing, isn't it? Except when I watch the family film and video and hear the stories, I think, of course they thought that. If you lived that every day, why wouldn't you think it?

Or wish it for others.

My wife leaned over my shoulder and watched this clip of the dancing and said, "See, that looks fun. That is what makes me think growing up together in the city must have been so much fun."

They did have fun. They danced in little rooms.

And I am starting to "get it"--my aunt would be angry and disappointed--offended--when I missed a family event as a teenager or a twenty-something...or a thirty-something.

The family who me, raised each other from the beginning--from the turn of the century arrivals in New York Harbor and leaned on each other, and loved each other. And if the photographs or the stories or lectures to go to more family events from loving family weren't enough, there is now the 8mm film. 

And I get it. I don't know why I didn't see it this clearly until now. Maybe it is because--more than just the one clip above--we have clip after clip of the same joy, same togetherness. They were always together.

No matter what was happening in the rest of the world, it seems my family found the time to squeeze into one their little rooms and danced.

And they laughed and thought it was the biggest space in the world. The only space they needed.

Because how much room do you need to be happy together? And, for me, this clip of the dancing speaks loudly. I get it. Their lives happened together. 

But, even though life has changed and we no longer live within walking distance of each other, for now, let's just remember the dancing.

Let's just remember the dancing.