All the Way Around

Out of New England, south into Georgia, west across Texas and into California, up the coast to Seattle, then back across the Midwest, arriving at last in Nelson, New Hampshire.

More than two hundred years ago, probably many more, the residents of Nelson began their contra dance. Today, the dance not only survives, it flourishes. Every Monday night, rain, snow, sleet, or otherwise, there is a dance in the Nelson town hall–the locals boast it occurs 56 Mondays a year.

As Lisa and I entered the hall, I reflected that truly nothing had changed about the look of the place since I was brought to my first Nelson dance five years earlier, my first contra dance ever. It’s a small Utah-shaped room with a stage up front inches above the hardwood floor. Old benches line the faded walls under great windows. Dim lights hang from the ceiling. This was a place filled with history and magic.

The familiar faces started to roll in. The callers, Don Primrose, Lisa Sieverts, the musicians, Harvey Tolman and Roger Treat on fiddle, Lloyd Carr on piano, and the regular dancers. Many dancers we’d seen in Greenfield and the Dawn Dance in previous nights came to join them.

Harvey started the first tune while Don and Lisa Sieverts partnered up for the first polka of the night. For Lisa and I, it was the last polka of the trip, and we danced it with bittersweet feelings. Other couples joined us, performing the dance just as we did: forward, back, twirl, then turn.

The hall was crowded with a dynamic mix of all ages. Nearly 100 people crammed into 4 lines for the next few contras that barely fit in the space. Among them were my parents, who had come to dance with us on our final stop.

After the walkthrough of the second dance, Don called for everyone to “sit down!” He continued, “Welcome to Nelson,” to which there was a smashing applause. “There’s a box on the table, the dance is three dollars, until nine O’clock when it becomes ten dollars!” He made announcements as everyone in the hall listened. Then, Lisa Sieverts took over with upcoming events. When that was done, she moved on to the awards ceremony portion of the evening.

“Every time there is a Brattleboro Dawn Dance,” she said, “we in Nelson hold the Iron Dancer challenge: five consecutive nights of dancing including the Dawn Dance and finishing right here in Nelson. This time around, we had 31 Iron Dancers!”

Everyone cheered as she announced the names of each Iron Dancer, beginning with the first timers, and proceeding until she got to Kelly Strauss, a 7-time recipient and one of the inventors of the challenge. As each dancer came up, Kelly distributed medals he forged himself with the insignia of the Iron Dancer.

At the end of it all, Lisa Sieverts said, “And finally, they traveled around the country for 101 days and contra danced for 51 nights, our TITANIUM dancers are Dave Eisenstadter and Lisa Weiss!” We got up and joined the rest to clapping and cheers.

The next dance after all the commotion was Chorus Jig. Don called it, and sang out the chorus: “la la la la la la la!” The regulars sang along, and the newcomers in the crowd caught on quickly. “Right to your partner, left hand up!” Don sang during the contra corners and the dancing had boundless energy. In my experience, nothing can top a Chorus Jig in Nelson.

After Chorus Jig, the calling was open microphone. Many people participated, including myself. My calling of Trip to Lambertville was critically acclaimed by my mother.

Lisa and I danced our final waltz of the trip together. When the music began, I found that the tune was Amelia, by Bob McQuillen, the same as the final waltz at The Dance Flurry back in February, the first stop of our trip. As we made our turns across the floor, we reflected that everything had come full circle. All the way around.

-Keene, NH

I woke up with a feeling of dread, and rolled over to try to sleep again. “I don’t think I can do it,” I whispered to Lisa. “It’s just too long.”

“Me neither,” she responded, shaking her head sleepily.

After traveling for over 3 months, driving thousands of miles to dance night after night all over the country, we both understood that our greatest challenge would be waiting for us in Vermont when we got back: The Brattleboro Dawn Dance.

Beginning at 8 PM, the all-night event would last until 7 in the morning, well after the sun had risen. Apart from short breaks to sweep the floor and change bands, the dancing would be continuous right up to the end.

We packed up the car and drove from Massachussets to Vermont, one of the shortest drives of the trip. The familiarity of the drive was relaxing, but in the back of our minds was the constant thought of the trial we would have to endure that night.

At the Brattleboro Food Co-op, we bought supplies: bananas, oranges, trail mix, bread, and peanut butter. All around us were other contra dancers doing the same. Many we had seen the previous night in Greenfield; others we knew from the area. While Lisa and I jokingly estimated we’d run into at least 6 dancers, we identified well over 20, and we were only there for as many minutes.

We drove to the Gibson-Aiken Center on Main St. and managed to park directly in front of the building just as a light rain began to fall. When we walked inside, volunteer “shoe police” inspected our footwear and gave Lisa the go-ahead. I had to scrape the bottoms of my flip-flops before being allowed upstairs.

The hall was a very large basketball court on the third floor. Lisa and I were among the first wave of people up there and we contemplated the vast space as the first set of musicians set up on the stage.

Tidal Wave began playing, and Lisa and I partnered up for a polka. We spun past onlookers waiting for the first contra and tried to put ourselves in the proper mindset–keep moving til morning. Lisa Greenleaf took the stage soon afterwards and we were dancing contras. Lightning flashed outside the windows of the hall as experienced dancers twirled and swung, incorporating dips and other fancy moves as they went; the music and calls demanded high energy. I stamped at every balance and took every twirl with the knowledge that mere hours later I wouldn’t be able to do anything but go through the motions.

An hour into the event, a friend from high school asked me to dance with him and we lined up as a same gender couple. Couples made up of two men or two women were a common sight at the Dawn Dance. As we traveled down the line, we ran into a couple made up of two women. My partner swung one of them and the other swung me. During the dance’s petronella turn and partner swing, my friend and I switched rolls. Leaders and followers alike performed the figures with us without missing a beat.

I sat out every few dances, doing my best to pace myself for the whole night, but not everyone did so. I met a few first time dawn dancers who insisted on dancing every dance. I found out the next day that several of them succeeded. In the break room, the Rossi family sold food and chatted with the resting dancers. I bought a delicious mango bar to accompany Lisa’s and my co-op supplies.

Time flew, and before I knew it, the Latter Day Lizards were taking the stage for the Midnight to 3:30 set. The Lizards are one of the most high energy bands I’ve come across contra dancing, and it was a good thing. Without being bombarded by their relentless rhythms and unstoppable music, it would have been a difficult few hours to get through.

By the time Chrissy Fowler mounted the stage with Crowfoot, there were still enough dancers for three large lines, sometimes four. And most of them stayed for the rest of the night. “Even though you’re tired,” Chrissy said, “don’t forget to take a hand offered during the right-and-left through. The person holding out their hand just might be from Maine.” Lisa and I both smiled with the knowledge of some of the other places they might be from. Everyone in the hall from Maine cheered and Chrissy acknowledged them; she was from Maine, too.

Several dances into her set, Chrissy called Secret Weapon, a dance I had never seen before with an allamande leading into a star. Everyone was exhausted, but I could see that they were all enjoying this secret weapon move.

The lightning eventually subsided, and as it did, the sky started to change colors. First from a black to a navy blue, then from Navy to the blue-green color of the sea. When it hit this color, Chrissy decided to call Chorus Jig, and it just so happened that Lisa and I were partners at the time. Formerly zombies, everyone in the room danced the familiar steps with renewed energy. Lisa and I began at the top of our set, and worked our way down as active couples. Inactives swung, then sung, then rocketed the actives around during contra corners. In another set, a former partner grabbed me for extra swings while I was waiting out. When the dance was done, the sky was a pale blue-grey. Behind the clouds and morning mist, the sun had risen!

The next dance, the lights were turned off, and we danced in sunlight for the remainder of the event. My major goal at that time was to keep from getting hurt or from hurting anyone else. The blank look up and down the sets was unmistakable. At one point, my partner acted as leader during a swing, not because she was trying to be tricky, but because she forgot she wasn’t leading. I was too tired to put up a fight, and followed her. Because of a state law, sleeping in the building was prohibited for the duration of the dance. Folks sitting out at the side visibly fought to keep their eyes open.

I danced the final waltz with Lisa, who closed her eyes to rest as I led her around the room. Half asleep, she still kept excellent time. We leaned on one another for support when it was over and wearily smiled. We had made it.

Our host for the night (day) lived just across the border in New Hampshire, no more than 10 minutes away. Lisa and I agreed to pick up some eggs and maple syrup for him on the way there. We watched the cashier make change for us, dumbly amazed at the rapid motions of her hands. If our lives had depended on it at that moment, I doubt we could have moved a tenth as fast.

-West Chesterfield, NH

As I looked out the car windows, a feeling of serenity came over me. The road signs, the scenery, and the service stations all spoke the same word to me: home. These familiar sights were leading us toward Greenfield, Massachusetts for the Extravadance, an extra-long dance beginning with waltzing at 6:30 followed by contras until midnight. We made no exception for this New England dance, arriving an hour late and missing the waltzing session.

We walked in just as the dance Trip to Lambertville was beginning. Excitedly, we joined hands and hopped in at the bottom of the shortest set. That night, a short set meant a line with a foot or two of space left between it and the back wall, against which were haphazardly placed chairs, water bottles, and articles of clothing. It was our first dance back in New England. I recognized the face of every woman that I balanced with in the center and I knew well the swing of every neighbor. It felt incredible to be back.

Among the locals, people we had been dancing with since we started contra, Dave and I recognized several people we met during the trip–a caller from North Carolina, a partner from Rochester, and another caller from California had all come to the Guiding Star Grange in Greenfield. During one swing, Dave cried, “Look! It’s Bob Isaacs!” He had been one of my favorite callers of the trip, and it was exciting to see him again. He greeted us with a “welcome home” and commented on the mardis gras beads we wore. In fact, they were the very beads we got from the celebratory dance he called in Glenside, PA several months before.

The caller announced that the next dance would be a square. Bob Isaacs approached me and said with a wink, “I hear that you’re not a fan of squares,” alluding to my blog article about Glenside, “but maybe you would make an exception and dance this one with me?” I joined him in a nearby square for the dance “Three Little Sisters.” Will Mentor, the first caller of the night, introduced it as a “flowing, southern dance.” Thinking back, I remembered that the only two places we encountered that dance were indeed in the south: North Carolina and Alabama.

In my experience, the Guiding Star Grange is packed full of really good contra dancers on any give Friday or Saturday. For the Extravadance, this was doubly true. However, everyone crowded into the center two lines of the already cramped dance space. This made dancing in these sets somewhat dangerous, with dancers wildly twirling and otherwise embellishing, regardless of space. The callers tried to coax some of these dancers into the outer sets with more room, but this worked only seldomly.

I finally managed to take a break late in the evening after I got a chance to dance with all the friends I hadn’t seen in almost four months. With eyes free to look around the hall, I saw its familiar inhabitants doing the same old things: tired dancers sat out on the stage watching the musicians, the Rossi’s sold their delicious desserts and fruit bowls in the foyer, folks chatted in the coat room, on the stairs, and outside the front door, and brave people tried to cross the dance floor in order to reach the restrooms.

Clew Bay played the first set as Will Mentor called, but after the break, The Latter Day Lizards took the stage with caller Steve Zakon-Anderson. With their inclusion of brass and percussion along with the traditional contra instruments, the Lizards played tunes of varied styles with unbeatable rhythms, making them one of my favorite bands. They ended the dance that night with an amazing version of “The Growling Old Man and the Cackling Old Woman.”

After the last contra, Dave and I prepared to waltz. But as we stepped onto the floor, the Latter Day Lizards broke into a swing tune, and couples tore out from their seats to dance swing as we retreated to the side. We watched and waited for the next tune, and it came sooner than we thought. Almost mid-note and to everyone’s suprise, the band somehow turned the tune from swing to waltz. Dave and I joined the other couples and did our first waltz together in a long time on a familiar floor.

-Colrain, MA