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When I turned sixty I was with my kinfolk in Mississippi, in Grenada, Mississippi to be exact, boozing it up in a Country Music juke joint. I was sixty and I was dancing with Jan, my brother's Queen of the Line Dance wife, and I was dancing with my once upon a time Queen of the Jitterbug Aunt Joyce, and more than anyone I was dancing with my Slow Dance Goddess, Mama. Now Mama and Aunt Joyce are gone, my brother's fighting bladder cancer, Jan nearly died from a bad heart, and she and my brother don't dance anymore. And here I am, on the verge of turning three score and ten in Poestenkill, New York, and what am I doing?—sitting with my feet up in front of the tv listening to Emmylou Harris sing her heart out about Poncho's being laid low. What's it like? my wiseass friends will ask tomorrow and for a few tomorrows after that. Exactly like turning sixty, I'll answer—threats of absence then, threats of absence ahead. For now, after Emmylou fades out and credits scroll down tv screens in Poestenkill, New York, I'll lift myself from my chair, insert my favorite Robert Cray cd, and I'll dance. Dance until I drop.
Copyright 2022 George Drew
George Drew’s books include Drumming Armageddon (Madville, 2020).