A 50 mile drive to Orange County is not so bad when the reward is the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. I would challenge anyone to attend a performance while down in the dumps and depart feeling anything but exuberant.
I actually danced around the house when I returned home. It was past midnight and my pooch Luna seemed concerned but I felt great and slept like a baby.
In the days since the show, I’ve found myself engaged in spontaneous performance mode at the most unusual times (that means at work). My boss hasn’t called the men in white coats with the straight jacket and padded truck.
Until they do, I’ll just keep dancing. It feels good. I feel good.
I guess that’s what James Brown was talking about.
|In the bosom of Abraham|