Barefoot Tap Dancing

After living in my previous apartment for six years, I knew every corner, creak and quirk of that place. But, when I moved into a new apartment a few months ago, I had to adjust to an unfamiliar atmosphere, particularly its noises. I've gotten accustomed to the traffic outside the window, the furnace kicking on at all hours and even the heavy-footed upstairs neighbors coming home late at night. However, one noise I was not expecting to hear is the sound of tap dancing down the length of my shotgun apartment. Although I had recently dug out my old tap shoes for a Halloween costume, the sound of dazzling dancing wasn't coming from me, it was my cat. My girl cat --not my girrrll, gay Harold, but my actual female cat, (although I wouldn't be at all shocked to find fabulous Harold tap dancing his little homo heart out)-- had gotten tiny pieces of kitty litter stuck in her toes. The sound of the litter gently hitting the hardwood floor as she walked down the hall sounded like tap shoes, and I couldn't help but giggle at the image it brought to mind (and, no, it wasn't "beer club night" - see previous posts.)

The sound of my cat's tapping took me back to the years of dance classes from my youth. But, the sound also reminded me of another cherished memory, my mother's "tap" dancing. As I've mentioned a few times before, my family, including three seemingly-girly girls, has a great appreciation for "inappropriate" jokes, bathroom humor and, as some might call it, a cheap laugh. And, with her amazing sense of humor and incredible creativity, my mom was the queen of comedy. One of her "acts" that got a laugh from us everytime (even during our sullen, unimpressed teenage years) was to tap dance without tap shoes. How? By "tapping" on her bare skin, the palm of her hands on the surface of her cheeks. Her, um, hind-end cheeks...

Yes, she posessed quite a talent, my ass-cheek-tap-dancing mom. The reason it was so funny was because of the determined but noiseless foot steps she mimicked and a sound (not from her feet!) that sounded so real! After sitting through dance recitals year after year, she actually had quite a few of the "steps" and complicated rhythms of a practiced professional. Mom was armed with nothing (no patent leather tap shoes, no glittering sequined costume) but her own anatomy, however her "shuffle" and "time step" could rival those of the great Gene Kelly or Savion Glover (almost.)

What prompted Mom to turn to the dance and invent her unique "style," I don't even remember. Perhaps she sought to live out some unrealized childhood dream of being a dancer. Perhaps all of those years watching dance classes and recitals encouraged her creative expression (in a slightly unorthodox way.) Perhaps she was trying to make her three rule-abiding, approval-seeking daughters  laugh and take life a little less seriously. Whatever her inspiration, Mom has definitely taught my sisters and me to find joy in the unexpected, humor in the ironic and to appreciate those who march to a different drummer... Or, dance with a different tap shoe, as it were...