Dancing Dirty

At my dad's wedding, almost two years ago, I danced with Grandma. Mention of that dance has surfaced in every conversation we have had since that day and an enlarged, fuzzy picture of the event is proudly displayed in her living room beside the other most memorable moment in her life, her second wedding. Before my cousin Karly was even engaged, Grandma's usual reminder of our dancing began to hint at the future possibility of re-enacting that special night. She was thrilled when she found out that my brother Matt was renting a white dance floor for the event and was seen polishing it on her hands and knees after it arrived.

The night of the wedding, I found myself in charge of the bar. While I was busy mixing mocktails and Italian sodas, I could feel Grandma lingering around the bar with her eyes gleaming, waiting for our dance. When the line slowed and we ran out of pineapple juice, I seized the window of opportunity to grab Grandma and we headed onto the dance floor. Voici, the result:

The video requires some explanation. First, we happened to be the only people dancing at that time and I was painfully aware of the fact. My discomfort at being the center of attention was increased by the cameras recording every minute of it. Hence, the awkward smiles. Second, if you notice that I'm going a little fast for Grandma to keep up, that requires a confession: I didn't have much time and I figured that if I wore her out a little, one dance would be enough and she would be satisfied (not that I've ever had to worry about satisfying women). Third, yes, I almost dropped her. When I told her I was going to dip her she simply went limp and fell back.
All told, we're lucky she's still with us. Love you GRANDMA!

When Harry Reid came to BYU

Harry Reid, the US Senate Majority Leader, both a democrat and LDS, spoke at BYU last fall. My friend’s boss may have called him “the spawn of Satan,” but had he listened, even he may have felt motivated to serve his fellowmen. And of course there was his testimony. A Mormon may question another’s sincerity, but involving testimony, especially when it’s a conversion, is surely number one on the Sunday School Teacher’s list of contention-calming devices. With his polished, creamy smooth, majority-leadin’ rhetoric up the other sleeve, Reid was well equipped to enter the great Republican citadel of BYU and even venture to woo some unsuspecting freshmen co-eds to explore the dark side of liberalism. It is even possible that some of his words began to take root in my own Utahan born-n-bred head as I sat transfixed by his commanding authority. Citing King Benjamin drew the final blow.

With a heart softened, even bleeding, I found myself nodding, not recoiling, at his radically democratic perspectives. As he closed, I discovered myself on my feet, clapping my cymbal hands in support like a precisely wound monkey. Soon a cold guilt washed away my enthusiasm as I was faced with a chilling question: Could I be...dare I entertain the idea and spit in the face of religious conservatism, disgrace my family, destroy the very moral fabric of society?...could I be...heaven forbid...a democrat?

In fear of being ostracized by my entire extended family, I have chosen to leave this question unanswered for the time being. But I can't help entertaining the oh-so-dangerous idea. After all, I do believe in gun control and...I better stop there. I tend to jeopardize my welcome at family parties every time I open my mouth.