By Dixie 
There is a Luther Vandross song called “Dance with my Father”.
It starts:
“Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence.
My Father would lift me high and dance with my mother and me…”
Every Saturday morning, my Pop would do his paperwork to show what he had done that week. He was in sales and worked from his car, going from grocery store to grocery store stocking McCormick spices and visiting people who became his friends.
Once a week he would get out a floppy book of forms with purple copy paper in between the white, yellow and pink papers. He kept it away from my grabbing hands so I wouldn’t get the purple ink all over the book, my hands and the walls. I am sure I did it a few times anyway.
He had to mail his reports by noon, so after I ate my cereal and watched Bugs Bunny I would come in to ‘help’ him. Poppy would put a Brook Benton album onto the record player of the big stereo and carefully place the needle onto the far edge of the record. He had a big pile of albums that he bought somewhere all at once: Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys, The Monkees, several Elvis ones, and The Animals. The sun streamed through sheer curtains in the living room windows, and I danced in the light.
I would twirl around and around and sing loudly. I never remember him telling me to stop even though it had to be impossible to fill in a week’s worth of work with me around.
My Mama and Poppy danced so well together. They danced like one person with four feet. In later years my brother and I would be at weddings or some other gathering with them, and we would stand on the sides of the dance floor and wonder how the dance gene never made it to either of us.
I could dance alone but not with anyone. I always had a hard time letting anyone lead me. Daddy could.
When I was little, Poppy would let me stand on his feet and he would move around and I’d pretend I was dancing too. When he got tired he would sit down on the living room couch and let me use his leg as a slide. He probably got quite a few bruises on his shin from me but he never complained.
I think I was a little spoiled by my Poppy.
“And I knew for sure I was loved
If I could get another chance, another walk, another dance with him
I’d play a song that would never, ever end
How I’d love, love, love
To dance with my father again.”
Happy Poppy Day in Heaven…May you get 18 Holes In One and a No Hitter against Ted Williams.
And thank you for a wonderful dance.