Last Time I Hugged

APRIL 16, 2020

I don’t remember the last time I hugged someone. Normally I’m a very physical person.  I hug my friends and family hello and do a lot of cheek kissing.

At social dance, we all hugged hello.  Yes, I also washed my hands a lot. But I focused mainly on dancing, enjoying myself and doing the best I could to practice good hygiene as far as germs were concerned. So many of the dancers were oblivious to germs and would come off the dance floor from multiple partners and put their hand into the jumbo potato chip bowl and munch away. I’ve never even eaten at a potluck. I definitely have never put my hand in a communal potato chip bowl.

I would love to be a more carefree person who didn’t feel threatened by dirt and germs. I would love to be the kind of person who didn’t feel the need to wash my hands, moisturize, freshen up, check my breath, check my teeth, powder my nose and make sure I looked presentable.

There were also some dudes at dance who would come back from the men’s restroom and bee line to me, asking for a dance. I would actually ask if they had washed their hands!  I figured the inappropriateness of that question could be more easily forgiven than me risking getting sick and having to delay treatment. Back in those days, I didn’t share my metastatic breast cancer status. I kept it a secret. It was something I dealt with every three weeks at treatment, neatly compartmentalized. 

Those were the early days of dancing at the Hacienda.  I was brand new to social dancing and West Coast Swing. I had just been though a break-up, and was trying to get back my footing, I guess pun intended.  I was also getting certified at Social Emotional Arts (SEA) thru UCLArts, so I had a lot going on to keep my mind in a good place.  Back then I was still teaching my art program to cancer survivors at Cedars.  The hospital wanted me to have a related degree, which is what spurred my SEA training.  In between breakup healing and SEA learning, I would show up at The Hacienda, to the beginner class every week, somewhere between terrified and thrilled. 

For someone who has spent most of her life in West LA in a 5-mile radius, driving alone to the Hacienda hotel near LAX was out of my comfort zone.  In those early days, I couldn’t get the lay of the land.  It was kind of a seedy vibe.  The lights were always dim as you’d expect in a hotel bar.  I wondered--WHO were all these people? Transients? Drunks? Was it a hook up place or worse?  I was out of my element.  I was also worried that someone was going to take my purse. The dancefloor was adjacent to the bar, and I didn’t know if everyone was drunk. I just never felt safe.

For the first several weeks I thought Asya and Tambre were the same person, this still makes me laugh.  Back then, many other dancers seemed like professionals, but now I know the difference! 

Our teachers, Phil and Mindia, could not have been nicer.  They were funny, always teasing each other.  Beginning class was very challenging and my head would feel like it was going to explode by the end of every class. I was so overwhelmed and so confused. Still, I loved the music and I loved the weird vibe.

There was so much camaraderie and general good spirits that gradually over time I realized, no, the people were not drunk. And they were nice. And Aysa and Tambre were completely different people.  And I didn’t need to walk to my car with my handheld mace at the ready. El Segundo was pretty safe.

I remember early on many of the women in the class were so kind and helpful to me. Right away I wanted to be friends with Jennifer.  She was tall and was such a good dancer.  A week later Eni and I fell in love while washing our hands in the bathroom.  Soon thereafter I met Isabell. Then Cheryl. My table of friends was growing. Frank, Alan, Barry, Fritz, Rami. Jane and Steve. I was starting to put names and faces together.  I asked every single partner how long they’d been dancing, something that must have been quite annoying but I was obsessed. Ha! And I was trying so hard to get the lay of the land.

Each week I learned a few more names and made a few more friends. Still, it was such a bizarre way for me to suddenly spend time. I was obsessed with learning West Coast swing and the more I wanted to learn the more I realized what a difficult dance it was. There was so much minutia, terminology I’d never heard of, plus I had never before danced.

After a few months, I signed up for privates with Phil. Each week he would pretty much tell me the same three things not to do and each week I would practice and then I would repeat the things I was not supposed to do.  He seemed to have endless patience, breaking down moves, rolls, and the count.  Eventually I started to learn and grow as a dancer. I also started going to Debbie D’Aquino’s Sunday classes in El Segundo.  There I met Helen and Terry.  Practice was paying off and I finally started to learn the basics.  By that first summer I was dancing at least twice a week plus privates once a week with Phil.

Phil and Mindia’s monthly dances in Lomita were amazing, and it took me months to be brave enough to go. I was so overwhelmed I could barely breathe. Suddenly the dance floor went from 50 familiar faces to 200 people and most of whom I did not know.  Plus the communal potato chip bowl was there, with other snacks, all which scared me.

Soon enough I found my friends, and I found my table, and I started seeing the same people again and again. I realized we were all there for the same reason. No one was overly judgmental. It was only a dance--if you picked the wrong partner how bad could it be? One song, a few minutes.  I started to relax and just dance. 

Month after month I would enjoy these dances at Lomita. Eventually I settled into a carpool routine with Jennifer. Some of my best dance memories are Jen and I talking about our highlight dances, laughing and car-snacking on our drive home.

When the Hacienda closed its doors, our dance community went through a lot of changes. It marked the end of an era, and for many it was an era of many decades. I had only been there a couple years. The Hacienda community moved to Westchester Elks club, and we continued dancing and making the best of it, even though as many pointed out, it was not “The Hacienda”. 

Over time social dancing expanded to socializing. And my dance friends would get together for summer concerts, or to take other dance classes, for parties, for potlucks and just to hang out.

What started as a room full of strangers, outside my comfort zone, has grown into a community of friends and a zone full of comfort.

I know all dancers are suffering right now. Dancing is what keeps us sane, grounded, connected, feeling happy, and feeling loved. And hugged. Hugged!

The physical distance has been so hard for a community used to literal connection.  We work on our connection, to always know where our partner is takes practice.  Sometimes we are required to reset the physical distance with our partner after a certain move is completed.  This keeps the dance looking elegant, stretched and elongated.

We are all being asked to set a very difficult distance.  It is anything but elegant, although it is forcing us to emotionally stretch.  I cannot wait until we resolve our pandemic so we can safely get back to our relaxed atmosphere of social dancing filled with big bowls of potato chips and hardly a concern.