I’ve never set foot in an Elk’s Lodge before. Truthfully I think the stereotypical image I’d grown up with was that it was a refuge for white men of some means. Perhaps their wives would partake in the occasional festive celebration, but I wouldn’t imagine it was the norm in olden times. Of course I’m only speaking from hearsay; I’ve no concrete proof of what went on in the past. But I can speak to being pleasantly surprised by what I personally witnessed a couple of evenings ago.
It wasn’t raucous, but it was rocking for sure. My husband and I were probably among the youngest in attendance, being in our 60s. But the old-timers were the ones getting down, singing and dancing, and having themselves one heck of a good time. It was infectious, because we found ourselves smiling and moving to the rythmn of the band, if only in our seats. Gone are the days when I would beg my husband to take a spin on the dance floor. If there isn’t a crowd of folks among whom he can bury himself, he’s not jumping up to make a fool of himself before onlookers. At least that’s his viewpoint. Nothing I say will get him to budge. So I’ve learned to content myself with watching others dance, unless other women decide to go it alone, then I’m in. Dancing is dancing, as far as I’m concerned.
But on this particular night, friends and family were there to celebrate Sylvia’s birthday. She’s everlastingly young in appearance and spirit, that I never think to ask her age. I know she’s in her 70s, but even that surprises me. She seems no more than a couple of years my senior, if even that. She continues to be a role model in aging ever so gracefully.
i’m blest to have sylvia…in my life…hugmamma.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY…GIRLFRIEND!!! …and many, many, many more…