Sacramento, CA
During our week long stay in the San Francisco area, Lisa and I took one trip out of town to dance in California’s capital, Sacramento. We were warned about the Friday rush hour, but traffic barely entered into our heads when the bigger problem presented itself. As we traveled through the hills and grape orchards of California, Lisa began to get sick. What started with a sore throat began to turn into coughing and sneezing, which escalated into a fever and a kind of delerium. Not wanting to infect the people offering to put us up for the night, we checked into a Motel 6. Lisa went to bed early, and when she was comfortable, I headed to the dance myself.
Finding the hall was more difficult than I had imagined. Lisa usually gets directions and navigates while I drive, and because I didn’t think to get the directions from her before I left, I had to rely on my memory of what she told me. I found the street the hall was on, but couldn’t find parking. Around the spot where the hall should have been was a giant church gathering for Good Friday. Hundreds of people held red glasses with candles inside. I parked several blocks down the street and tried to find the hall quickly so I could get back to Lisa and make sure she was still all right.
It turned out I was looking on the wrong side of the street, and just across from the Good Friday procession, a pair of women wearing skirts approached a large building. As I followed them, I started to hear music coming from inside.
The hall had a great floor, a high stage, and a rustic look. The band was set up in front of the stage rather than on top of it, and the caller circled the room with a headset microphone. Two lines of dancers finished up a contra as I walked in and bowed to their partners.
I wanted to find our hosts and tell them we would be staying elsewhere, but I wasn’t sure who they were. Using the technique that had worked the best in past dances, I found a partner and let my dancing distinguish me as an outsider.
The dance attracted a large proportion of beginners. The first dance I participated in was a square, and the caller began by asking if anyone was new to square dancing. A surprising number of hands went up, indicating that about a third of the people in the room hadn’t square danced before. In my square, all of the gents were experienced, but half of the ladies were not.
The square was a mixer and a lot of fun. As we made our way through the right-and-left grand, we all laughed as some of the new folks inevitably got turned around. We managed to keep it together the whole way through, and the steady music was a big help in this. The caller, Bob O’Brien, slowed his singing calls when it appeared the dancers needed to catch up.
My partner for the next contra told me during the walk through that she did not like to be twirled. No problem, I thought to myself, but as the music started, I found that I had trouble improvising between calls without that staple figure. Much of my repertoire, I discovered, had to do with different ways of twirling my partner. In an effort to branch out, I experimented with other types of moves. I lead my partner in gentle spins and turns and at other times I stepped out the rhythm with my feet myself during down time. It was an interesting exercise, and from what I could tell, I was able to keep my partner happy and connected without twirling her.
The next contra helped me find another out of towner. As the caller told us to California twirl, a woman exclaimed, “Wow, a California twirl here in California!” As I had been excited by the same thought just a week earlier, I knew she was from elsewhere. “Pennsylvania,” she told me when I got a chance to ask. It’s always nice to meet another dancer checking out contras far away from home.
The next dance was a waltz before the break. After asking a few women to dance, I found one without a partner, and we danced my final dance for the night. She told me that she didn’t know the waltz very well, but she caught on quickly for a beginner, never having trouble following my steps or turns.
I stayed through the break to talk to some of the dancers and musicians. My host approached me, and I explained our situation. “Sorry to hear about Lisa,” he said, “but thank you for thinking of us.” He went on to tell me about the dance and who attends it. “There were a lot of beginners this week because a lot of the experienced dancers are at a dance weekend.” I remembered that Linda Leslie and the Moving Violations were presiding over that event as we spoke. He and the caller both asked if I wanted to stay to call a dance after the break. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to leave Lisa sick and alone for so long.
Before I left, I went over to the band and asked them about a tune of theirs I had liked. The members of this group, the Coyote Contraband, were extremely friendly. Many of them played often for the Sacramento contra dance. As I turned to go, I realized I had one final question. “Why do you play on the floor instead of on the stage?” I asked.
“The hall is cheaper without the stage,” one of the band members replied. I smiled and nodded. A contra dance needs all the help it can get.
-Eureka, CA
