Winning? Not Quite...

In the epic struggle between money and professional conduct, professionalism just won. That's my take on the firing of Charlie Sheen from his hit sitcom. As I alluded to earlier, the unmentioned quandary for CBS and Warner Bros. TV (the studio that produces Sheen's Two And A Half Men) was whether they wanted to sacrifice a cash cow by offing its biggest star. Now we know.

Self-described rock star from Mars or not, Sheen's bosses could only take so much abuse. Further, with Sheen continuing to spiral deeper into instability and recklessness, his liabilities eclipsed his value. Profits heightened the studio's tolerance, but I can only wonder whether WB's insurance carrier for Men would continue to underwrite the show. Further, a letter from WB's lawyers to Sheen's attorney shows his client was making less than great television:

When Mr. Sheen returned from Christmas hiatus, he had lost a large amount of weight-more than 20 pounds, according to Show personnel. He appeared to be using drugs heavily.

You claim that Mr. Sheen was turning in "brilliant" performances during this time. Not true. As outtakes of the filming show, Mr. Sheen had difficulty remembering his lines and hitting his marks. His conduct and condition created substantial tensions on the set. Mr. Sheen conceded in one or more of his numerous recent interviews that he sometimes showed up to work after not having slept and needed to move his mark to accommodate his need to "lean" on something, for balance. These few examples all confirm Mr. Sheen's rapid physical and mental deterioration resulting in a failure to perform his essential duties.

The letter mentions WB and CBS have twice now worked with Sheen to clean him up, adjusting or canceling production on his show only to see him relapse in public and dramatic fashion.

No corporation should have to tolerate an employee that continuously spits in its eye, no matter how much he enhances the bottom line. Bringing Sheen back for another season would've let Hollywood bad boys know they can bully anybody whose pockets they line. That's not exactly "winning."

Reel To Reel: The Adjustment Bureau

We control the horizontal, the vertical, and a lot more.

Going Rate: Worth full price for thinking people.
Starring: Matt Damon
Rated: PG-13
Red Flags: Mild language, one sex scene, some action violence

Proverbs 16:9 (NASV) tells us: "The mind of man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps." Deism, that belief shared by many of our founding patriots, tells us GOD created the world and then stepped back. The Adjustment Bureau is somewhere between the two, but it's ultimately a hybrid of The Matrix, The Butterfly Effect, Men In Black and Inception with a Twilight Zone feel. It tells us the world is secretly run by a group of well-dressed men in fedoras who are monitoring and occasionally nudging our life decisions in accordance with "the plan" which is administered by "The Chairman." Does that mean GOD? Are the guys in the hats our guardian angels? It's a good dinner-table discussion.

Congressman David Norris (Damon) is a rising political star who's about to win a Senate seat when a tacky picture surfaces in the New York Post that scotches his election. In a moment of public disillusionment, he gives a concession speech excoriating the packaging and consulting that is modern-day politics. Were those moments chance? Keep your eyes on the guys in the hats. They are a shadowy, joyless, bureaucratic bunch, armed with "plan books" that plot out a person's future like a real-time subway system map lifted from Hogwarts. The guys skip around town using conventional doors in a way that bends the time-space continuum. Wings are so yesterday.

Norris finds out about the mystery men when one of the adjusters botches what sounds like a simple assignment: get Norris to spill his coffee before he gets on the bus, thus keeping him from reconnecting with love interest Elise (Emily Blunt). You wonder what could be so bad about a professional dancer with a British accent whose only sins we know are crashing a wedding and talking to Norris in the men's room on Election Night. Turns out Elise isn't in his "plan." Yet they meet again, and Norris is taken back behind the curtain of the universe -- or in this case, an abandoned warehouse -- and told to forget about the girl and the men who just abducted him. Otherwise they will erase his entire brain, an awfully excessive means of getting rid of a flame. Then again, selective deletion didn't work so well in Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.

Matt Damon gets to run a lot in this movie, just like in the Jason Bourne flicks. So we've got action. We've got rebellion. We've got intrigue and sticking it to "The Man," even if he may be our Creator, as Norris figures out he may be able to rewrite his plan and confound the adjusters. Most of the action, however, is in our minds as we dwell on the larger questions.

"What happened to free will?" Norris asks. That was tried before, the adjusters tell him, and humanity messed things up. Well, duh. That should've been obvious after that little serpent incident in the Garden Of Eden. Instead, it seems the adjusters and their Chairman are in the cycle of stepping in and stepping back, thinking people have matured enough to let them plot their own destinies only to find they're not. Judged against history, it sounds reasonable, perhaps Biblical, but it's not. Romans 8:28 kills the theory that GOD steps back, as does that aforementioned passage in Proverbs. But I'll admit, I thought about Hebrews 13:2 (NIV) when I thought about one of the guys in the hats: "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it."

The Adjustment Bureau is another fine product from the works of Philip K. Dick, the writer who gave us the stories behind Blade Runner, Minority Report and Total Recall, three other sci-fi classics. It's hard to believe he was so poor at one point, he resorted to eating dog food. Was that part of his plan, or just chance?

Rehab Failure

Normally, I would be content to let Charlie Sheen continue his slide into darkness without comment, if it weren't for a troublesome observation: did this guy really go through drug rehab? Or did the rehabilitation experts just switch his drug to ego?

As Reuters reports via Yahoo:

ABC News and celebrity website Radaronline had Sheen's blood and urine tested, and revealed no drugs in his system for the past 72 hours. "I am on a drug. It's called Charlie Sheen. It's not available because if you try it once, you will die," he said in the ABC interview.

Maybe it doesn't cause physical death, but it has been known to kill careers.

Watching this all play out on TV also troubles me. ABC, NBC and CNN are all feeding his unchecked megalomania by letting him rant even more against his show, his producers and his network. CBS is keeping its distance and staying silent, which is about the best it can do in the face of a sitcom star gone wild.

A commenter on Deadline.com suggested this:

There’s a reason why recovering addicts are secluded from the public when they are in a proper rehab facility. Addicts often act out in anti-social behavior and anger when they first transition to sobriety, mostly due to the changes their body chemistry is going through. Since Charlie is being pampered in an at-home “rehab light”, the whole world gets to see his withdrawal symptoms. If Sheen’s people had been smart enough to force him into a real rehab facility, only a therapist would be hearing these rants in private. This behavior will pass in a month or so if Charlie sticks with his sobriety.

Or it would have never happened at all had he been forced to do a 90-day program, in seclusion, in the first place. I serenely hope that's what CBS and Warner Bros. Television and the Two And A Half Men staff all wanted for Charlie. But I don't think he would've gone for that. I also hope some suit didn't suggest some way to get him in and out of rehab as quickly as possible to salvage what was left of the season and protect millions of dollars in advertising and syndication revenue.

Now as it stands, Sheen's show has only cranked out 16 episodes this season, eight less than its contract with CBS. I gather nobody even considered sliding work on those episodes back to late spring or early summer. That's a shame, but networks really don't want to be paying big bucks for shows -- even highly-rated ones -- that will end up airing during the summer when TV viewership drops. At least the show's crew is getting paid. The rest of us get to see a man go down the tubes thinking he's on top.

Run, Don't Talk

Forget the filibuster. We now have the fleeabuster. When you're outnumbered on a vote for a bill you don't like, why waste your breath speechifying when you can run away with your party buddies to create a quorum issue?

You probably know about the Wisconsin Democrats who skipped the state to thwart a budget bill that would end collective bargaining rights for state employees and force concessions on health care and pensions. Democrats fled Indiana and Ohio to gum up a vote. They all take some inspiration from a similar stunt in Texas a little less than a decade ago. The strategy is to force compromise on the objectionable bill. In Indiana, it may be working. In Wisconsin, not so much.

Moreover, the business of government is slowing down or stopping. Without a quorum, other bills don't come up for a vote, controversial or not. We all know the "gub-mint" moves slowly enough as it is -- except in Arizona, where the Republican-dominated legislature just rammed through a huge business tax cut in less than a week. But Arizona Democrats don't dare leave the state. They know the GOP would help them pack.

Those of us who grew up with decent parenting learned we can't run away from our problems. That's called being a coward. John Baldoni at Fast Company explains it further:

Embracing the run and hide strategy is a tactic that middle schoolers would understand--if you don't like something, go home. But since the legislators are adults the abandonment strategy comes across as self-serving and frankly un-democratic. The beauty of a democracy is that you work within the system to effect change; sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, but the operative word is "work."

The Wisconsin Democrats know they can't win unless Governor Scott Walker makes a huge concession, which would then alienate the majority of voters who put him in office.

Majority rule isn't easy. It isn't pretty. You may not think it's fair. Fine -- go get your own majority in the next election. Holding the majority doesn't give you permission to whallop the minority with tyranny, but we're not at that stage. Wisconsin's runaway lawmakers have throngs of angry public employees on their side who have set up an ongoing protest in Madison. Cairo it ain't, but they'd love you to see the comparison to Hosni Mubarak or Mommar Gaddafi-Quadaffi-Kadafy-Whatever. One problem: Walker's no dictator and Wisconsin's no kingdom. And lawmaking is not some child's game where you get to march off and sulk if you don't win.

George And Michael

To cap off our weeklong pre-tribute to the George Washington Ball, your humble dancing servant presents one number you will definitely not be seeing tomorrow night, as performed by the mascots of George Washington University... and Michael Jackson.



Dance on, my friends!

It's A Little Early For That, You Think?

I must admit to you, Dearest Dancing Friends, that many of the capers I have been showing you this week would not be danced in George Washington's time, or at the George Washington Ball. Some of them date to the early 1700's, decades before the Father of Our Country would take command, much less his first ballroom steps.

So why do I show them? Because usually a few fancy dances would start the evening before things progressed into the numbers people were more familiar with. I have also run into a lack of available YouTube material from the Revolutionary period -- many things are from the Regency era or the Baroque to mid-1700's.

And all right, I'll admit it -- I love the outfits.

Enough explaining. Let's get to another of the fancy dances. Here are three from Compagnie Fantaisies Baroques:

Put Some Spring In Your Step

Dearest Dancing Friends, colonial capering was not always slow and stately or complicated and geometric. Sometimes it could be quite anxious and athletic, as this couple demonstrates...

Careful now, or you may flip your wig...



I have to think this gentleman is a judge with a do like that.

Afterward, one would need some liquid sustenance -- but nothing alcoholic. Otherwise, this is what might happen:



And now the scores: 5.7, 5.8, 5.9, 5.9, 5.8, 5.7. That slip on the double axle did seem to be the one mistake, but he's definitely in medal contention.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?

I hear your criticisms: this English dancing --it's so repetitive.

But Dearest Dancing Friends, that's also what makes it so enjoyable! If you louse up a step, there is always the next iteration. And when you are all dressed up in your breeches and buttons and powdered wigs, dancing at George Washington's Ball, who cares about your mistakes as long as you look beautiful making them?

You won't catch Altenglischer Countrydance making mistakes, however, as they perform this beautiful rendition of "Upon A Summer's Day."



I adore how the gentlemen are not afraid to prance about, especially in this short quadrille:

Step By Step

My Dearest Dancing friends, it is well known that your colonial Virginian ancestors loved to dance. As such, they knew many dances by heart, and they walked through many intricate moves in their sleep.

So I ask the question: would a group of 21st Century Americans be able to handle an 18th Century cotillion, with choruses and verses of figures?

See for yourself in this vacation video from Colonial Williamsburg:



Oh let us be merciful. Let us give them one more chance.



I assure you, things will not be this complicated at the George Washington Ball!

My Lady, You Look Fabulous!

Dearest Dancing Friends, it's nearly time for another of my favourite balls of the year: The George Washington Ball is this coming Saturday!

As your humble servant kicks off a weeklong tribute, let's start in the wardrobe. A fancy ball deserves your fanciest attire, especially if you're nobility. Let's watch as the Colonial Williamsburg seamstresses fit Her Ladyship into a new gown for a ball held in her honour:



Now, listen as Lady Dunmore -- or the lady who interprets Her Ladyship -- tells us more about what that ball was like:



I have danced in 18th Century attire inside the Old Capitol in Williamsburg -- for five minutes. My dream one day is to dance for much longer there. Until then, I'll just have to settle for this -- a look at the annual George Washington Ball in Williamsburg:

Talking To Myself

A friend recently asked: "If you could say anything to the 20-year-old version of YOU... what would you say to yourself?"

This is my reply:

"You will not believe this, but trust me. You are a repressed 18th Century gentleman. Put down that can of pepper spray; I'm serious here.

"I know your freshman history class was a major drag, but you're not learning it the right way. I want you to check out Williamsburg. Just go. You didn't really get it when you went there with Mom and Dad and your brother in 1986, but I think you will now. You have this quiet idealism about you, something inside that makes you want to believe things are really better than everybody else says that they are. You need to be in a place were people celebrate what's good about life and living in a free country, regardless of what people are grousing about around MU right now. Two words: living history. I want you to find people who enjoy doing that and ask how they got into it.

"Remember how you told your girlfriend Jessica that you would like to go to a costume ball one of these days? I want you to find one and go for it. Dress up in the finest Colonial outfit you can rent: long coat, knee socks, tricorn, the whole smack. You know you want to do it, but you don't because you're afraid what happened to you in middle school will happen again. You think a lady -- especially one your age -- will never love you because you're too out of touch with everyone else. I am telling you're wrong, and it's because you haven't found the right circle of friends who are focused on the right things.

"Remember when you were just beginning your sophomore year, and some folks from one of the campus ministries invited you to a moonlight game of Capture the Flag? You went and you liked it. Then they invited you to church. You shoulda gone. Well, it's not too late. I want you to know this: GOD loves you. HE always does. Even if you don't notice it. HE'S trying to get through to you through a back channel.

"I want you to go back to church, not just any church, but the right church. Those Presbyterians are good people, but they're not addressing the questions you have. They're a PC and you're a Mac. Well, yeah, you're more like an Commodore Amiga, but you get it. Find a youth church with people your age who are seeking and need answers to the way GOD really works. When you were 13, you took a confirmation class and wrote a credo to become an official Presbyterian, but it didn't help you a lick spiritually. All it did was give you a lesson on how to flatter the right people. But more than that, I'm telling you there's a difference between going to church and having a right relationship with GOD. If you stay on your present course, you're going to be in your 30's before somebody explains that to you. Then they're going to pray with you outside a fast-food joint in Phoenix. Don't ask questions, man, just hear me out.

"Keep pursuing that journalism degree, but I want you to think hard about the TV business and what it could do to you. You're still in college. You've got options. Broaden your career menu and see what else is out there besides something network-affiliated. I'm not saying you're about to make a bad career choice; I'm just saying there will come a time when you wonder whether you chose a career that really fit you or not. I think if you start whetting your appetite for history and getting back to GOD, you're going to see things in a whole new way, and that's going to have you rethinking your day job. Have no fear: you can still be successful and make good money, but you'll have more satisfaction.

"Back to your girlfriend. Don't let other people dictate your love life. I know they don't now, so don't change your mind. If you start going back to church and hanging out with people who really know what's going on in your heart, that proverbial "right girl" will find you. Even if she doesn't, don't worry. I am telling you will derive much pleasure from being GOD's unmarried servant, and in doing so, you will realize that what the world defines as love is sorely lacking.

"I've got to warn you about some quirks that are going to happen when you follow all of this advice. You are going to start wearing three-cornered hats in public. You're going to start bowing to people. Don't let other people make you think it's weird. They're the ones into the grunge scene and the angst of youth. Where do these people get off defining normal? You seem to enjoy being this nonconformist. So be nonconformist in a positive direction. That tricorn is a symbol of revolution, right? So have your own revolution. Be the change you'd like to see in other people.

"There's a lot I could reveal to you about what will happen, good and bad, but it's pointless to tell you about it now because your decisions from this point forward will alter the timelines and create this alternate reality that I pray will be better than the one you're currently traveling on. Remember that scene in Back To The Future Part II where Doc is explaining the rift in the time-space continuum and how things got all messed up. For Marty it was a bad thing, but for you it's a better thing because I'm telling you how to avoid doing some of the things you wish people would've warned you about at this time in your life.

"I'm not going to save you from your mistakes because that's impossible. You don't have to be afraid about anything. You just have to realize it's time to be the person GOD designed you to be."

You Can't Buy Indulgences Any More, Either

A lot of people have been misunderstanding the intentions of an iPad/iPod "Confession App" developed by a group of Catholics in South Bend, Indiana. The Vatican says it is no substitute for confessing your sins to a priest, but that was never the intention. The app is a checklist for remembering what you need to confess, something to be taken into that dark, curtained room when you go through the process.

I can imagine, though, that this would make for some awkward moments.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been 2 weeks since my last confession. I confess I have taken the LORD's name in vain twice and--"

BLOOP! BLOOP!

"My son, what is that?"

"I'm sorry, Father, I have to take this..."

And can you imagine an iPad with you in the booth?

"My son, you have an interesting glow about you..."

"Oh that, Father, it's the LCD."

"The what?"

"My iPad. I'm trying out this confession app."

"Sweet Mother of Necessity, must you bring that in here?"

"It's to jog my my mind about what I need to confess to you."

"My son, I want you to say three Hail Marys, three Our Fathers, and take a memory-enhancement course!"

Not Fair

The New York Times reports while President Obama talks about a "Sputnik Moment," school science fairs are waning. The problem -- too much else to do:

One obvious reason for flagging interest in science fairs is competing demands for high school students' extracurricular attention. But many educators said they wished the projects were deemed important enough to devote class time to them, which is difficult for schools whose federal funding hinges on improving math and reading test scores. Under the main federal education law, schools must achieve proficiency in math and reading by 2014, or risk sanctions.

The Obama administration has urged broadening the subjects tested under the law -- possibly including science. But some teachers say they are already burdened by state requirements to teach a wide range of facts -- say, the parts of a cell -- which prevents them from devoting class time to research projects.

Maybe it's time we rethink the whole "fair" concept. Instead of showing off knowledge for a panel of judges, why not find a real-world application for a team of students and let them go for it?

A bunch of kids interested in electronics can help design and build a phone system or an office computer network for a non-profit group. The students interested in human can shadow and work with nurse practitioners at health screenings. Earth science and meteorology junkies could team up and form their own school forecast lab, using the same freely available data the National Weather Service looks at every day. More internships would help.

At the end of a science fair, a student is left with a prize -- or maybe not -- and hopefully a sense of fulfillment from exploring a curiosity. With some flexibility and imagination, many more of us could reap benefits from that.

In Pursuit Of "Happiness"

People in the land of Carnival are apparently afraid they could wake up one morning and find their "happiness" gone. Thus, some legislators in Brazil want to write it into their Constitution:

"In Brazil, we've had economic growth without the social growth hoped for," said Mauro Motoryn, the director of the Happier Movement, a non-governmental organization backing the legislation. "With the constitutional amendment, we want to provoke discussion, to seek approval for the creation of conditions in which social rights are upheld."

Similar explorations of officially finding happiness have been pushed by other governments. Both Japan and South Korea include the right to happiness in their constitutions, and earlier this month, the British government detailed plans to begin a $3 million project to measure citizens' well being.

Context, of course, is everything. The U.S. concept of "the pursuit of happiness" isn't found in our Constitution, but in our Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Our patriotic ancestors in the three-cornered hats and wigs were telling us government exists to protect our GOD-given rights, and when a government tries to take those rights away, it's the government that's got to go... not those rights.

You won't hear the "pursuit of happiness" mentioned in the Constitution. However, you'll see it alluded to in the preamble:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Insuring "domestic Tranquility," promoting the "general Welfare," and securing the "Blessings of Liberty" are defining the "pursuit of happiness."

One can say, "We want happy citizens," but how does a government do that? Thankfully, our Constitution is an excellent framework of boundaries.

"Happiness isn't a game, people confuse it with something that is superfluous and it isn't," [Motoryn] said. "We need quality health care, which we don't have. We need quality education, which we don't have.

"It's about creating conditions for people to pursue happiness, but with training, with knowledge, preparing us to be a more advanced society in the future."

Well said.

Skills Squared

Check out the beginning of this clip from The Old American Barn Dance and you'll see how the pros tear up the floor. Dearest Dancing Friends, I'm not near this skill level yet in either my ECD or contredanse experience, but I have a friend who says she's gotten to a certain level in square dancing which requires a mastery of at least 100 calls.



I assure you, we won't be going this fast at the Arizona Barn Dance, but we will be just as lively!

And once you cool off from the dance floor, enjoy Kenny Roberts, The Candy Mountain Girls, Salty Holmes and Johnny Bond.

Let's Get Swinging!

As the Arizona Barn Dance approaches, here's another clip from the 1953 TV series The Old American Barn Dance, featuring Bill Bailey, The Candy Mountain Girls, Pee Wee King... and more!

Hey, Bill! These Here Gals 'R' Singin' 'Bout Ya!

Saturday is We Make History's first-ever Arizona Barn Dance -- just like the Tucson Barn Dance, only in the Phoenix area.

So in tribute, I'm offering a clip or two from another barn dance, the Old American Barn Dance broadcast in 1953.

DeZurik Sisters, take it away:

The Unabashed Colonial In Jane Austen's Ballroom

A bit anachronistic in a sea of anachronism, Viscount Christopher attends the Jane Austen Evening in Pasadena, California.

I have never seen so many people in Regency dress gathered in one place. The moment I step into the Pasadena Masonic Lodge transports me into the BBC's Pride & Prejudice, with men wearing long black coats and black breeches with white stockings or regimental uniforms. Every lady is wearing a slender 1800's gown, mostly in pastels and prints or satin or golden trim. I count three brave lads in kilts. I thought about wearing mine this evening before retreating to the comfort of my blue satin jacquard suit with the floral weskit and lace jabot, adorned with my gold trimmed tricorn -- and a yellow ribbon to remember those lost in the Tragedy of Tucson.

The house guidelines advise a wardrobe selection from 1775 into the early 1800's. I am clearly pushing the early limit. Not that anyone minds...

"Sir, could I have your picture?"

I pose in several places for strangers with cameras.

"Did you make this yourself?"

"A lady in Phoenix made this for me. She is extremely talented. You should see the French gowns she made."

"It looks a bit French."



Several are amazed at my travels: "You came from Arizona? Just for this?"

Yes, for this. For something elegant, merry and in tune with the 18th Century gentleman inside of me. For my dearest diversion. And yet butterflies hum within me. Why am I so nervous? I may be among strangers, but I'm no stranger to the dance. What am I afraid of? Rejection? I haven't found it yet -- especially with so many admiring my non-Regency attire, including one of those kilted lads.



A spacious ballroom awaits us. Our players -- two fiddlers, a bass and guitarist -- tune up as I pace the room. I need to find an unattached lady for the opening promenade, if there is one. But our dancing mistress welcomes us by proceeding to the first set dance: "The Spaniard."

Even among strangers, my preferred method for finding a partner has never failed me. I locate a lady who looks like she is wandering about and bow to her. She graciously accepts the invitation and I am glad that the first selection is one I have danced many times before.

The ballroom can barely contain the long lines of couples. Positioned near the end of one of them, my partner and I barely have room to promenade down and back for eight bars. Many of the end couples are content to march in place for however many steps it takes. The dance ends with a chorus of "ahhhs" from the gathered.

"HUZZAH! HUZZAH!" I cry. I am the only one shouting it, just like I am the only one wearing a tricorn, or raising my free hand high during the turns.

I bow to my partner once more. "May I escort you somewhere?"

She is perplexed. "Uh, no. Thank you! I'm good." She wasn't expecting me to live up to the 18th-Century rule of after-dance etiquette.

I find partners for "Mont Hills," "Brighton Waltz," and "Dover Pier," three dances I have never capered but learn quickly. My partners are appreciative. All is well.

As the first set ends, a lady approaches me: "May I be your partner for 'Selina'?" Usually, an 18th Century lady would not ask a gentleman for a dance, but that rule is happily discarded in the recreated ballroom. "Of course, My Lady!" I say with a bow and a doff of my tricorn. I am joyous for the invitation.

Some lemonade revives my body. Perhaps I needed more refreshment in those opening minutes of butterflies. "You look beautiful!" a server remarks. So many people are enthralled with my fashion. I have to wonder, why did they not dress in cheery colonial fashion? Why not gold or cheery pastels instead of those ubiquitous black suits championed by Beau Brummel? This is a ballroom, not a funeral parlor!

Another lady approaches. "You know in the 18th Century ballroom, people didn't wear hats." She means my lone tricorn.

"Maybe in the later 18th Century," I point out in kindness. "But there were also dances designed to be done by men in their hats." If I had more of my wits about me, I could demonstrate formal 18th Century bow where a man removed his tricorn and turned it over to show his partner he was not lame. This lady seems to forget I am not representing a Regency gentleman but a Colonial or Georgian one, a person some would disparagingly call a "fop." Regardless, I decide to doff my headpiece for the next set. One must sacrifice for the ladies.

I dance "Selina" with the partner who invited me before moving on to the "Lasses of Portsmouth." When "Kelsterne Gardens" is announced, our dancing mistress gives a caution: "This is for those who know. Do not attempt this dance if you have not done it in class."

Normally, I would throw caution to the wind and dance it anyway. But this is a group of experienced dancers, and I don't want to deprive others through my mistakes. So I sit it out. It pains me. I resolve, if this Viscount ever holds a ball of his own, no one will be advised to sit out. I would rather have a room full of dancers learning on the floor and laughing away their mistakes than ladies and gentlemen on the sides pining to dance as well as their peers. The ballroom is the great equalizer, and if it isn't, it should be.

I seek another partner for the "Rakes of Rochester" and find a novice lady. She is mildly uneasy about her skills. "My Lady, do not fret!" I say. This particular dance involves a move called a "twinkle," a showy figure where a lady and gentleman open wide in a showy gesture after a sashay down a set -- my kind of dance.

I lead her through it and she picks it up readily: a corner turn, a couple turn. The sashay and the "twinkle." A sashay back and a cast down the set. Four changes of rights and lefts. I can see her smiling. My free hand is raised as I turn her and the other ladies. "Affectations are encouraged," I say to those around me. "Let your light shine through." Remarkably, some do.

"I'm so glad I found you!" she exclaims after the dance. "You made my whole evening!"

A waltz is announced, and she invites me to dance with a young lady friend she has invited along. We begin in the usual way, in the usual waltz position, but I feel a desire to take things to a more elegant level.

"My Lady," I tell her, "there is a dance I do, a sort of waltz-minuet where I call the steps. If you like, I can show you. But if at any time you are uncomfortable, just say the word, and I shall halt. Would you like to try?"

"Yes."

So I lead her the minuet of my making -- a wide turn by right hands, then by left, then a step away from one another, then close to each other. I softly call the next step or use a hand gesture. She follows me perfectly, like she has been dancing it all her life. People are turning to watch us. People are taking pictures and videos. We are having an immensely fine time, lost in the elegance and beauty of the dance. We step forward, we side, we turn in place. When the dance ends, we honour each other regally, as we had been dancing for the Queen.

The friend who has brought her here is beyond words. We converse and I find she is a pastor in Long Beach. "This brought me back to GOD," I happily tell her, as I recount for her my testimony.

If I had any doubt about whether I belonged here or not, those doubts are gone. "FATHER IN HEAVEN," I prayed before I entered the ballroom, "help me to remember what I'm here to do." Giving comfort and joy on the dance floor is part of my life's mission. I pray that I might inspire others as I have been inspired, and when that happens, it is a gift from GOD, another answered prayer, another affirmation of love from above.

"Sion House" follows, and I convince myself I can handle "Mr. Beveridge's Maggot," even though the advanced dance it is a different version than the one I have previously learned.


Video by "PrincessSolitare"

I pick it up on the floor, and I thank my partner for her patience before escorting her back to the side. Another lady is beckoning me as she sees us in transit. "I shall be with you in a moment," I smile to her. She understands completely.

"Yes, it was always customary to escort a lady off," she smiles, grateful that some people haven't forgotten all the social graces. We dance "Irish Lamentation" together, although I cannot understand what is so lamentable about a dance with so much joining of hands and stately figures.

Our players offer a final free waltz before the evening concludes. My pastor partner from a few dances ago asks me to minuet with her, and I heartily do, uplifting her spirits once more.

Of the 18 dances in the evening, I dance 16, a good score on any dance card. I lose myself in the "Duke Of Kent's Waltz," a favourite of mine, before the evening ends with "Sir Roger de Coverley," better known as a Virginia Reel without the reeling part. A boisterous dancing master calls it out in a hefty voice.

"Take off your hat, sir!" he bellows to a gentleman in a stovepipe across the room. "It's that kind of a dance."

I tell the ladies I've danced a 30-minute Virginia Reel before. They can't believe it. Well, this is an English ballroom, not a Virginia one.

"Please say your farewells," the dance master hollers. "You don't have to leave, but you can't stay here!"

I fetch my modern-day carriage from the modern-day carriage house across the street before the attendants lock it in for the night. I park it in a safe place and scurry back inside to offer goodbyes where I can. I'm not sure if people are heading to an after-party, or whether there is one, but it seems like no such soiree is taking place.

However, I offer to escort an unaccompanied lady to her car for safety and chivalry's sake. She and I have danced together earlier in the evening. As we discuss our lives and our love of dance, she learns I am from Tucson and that I am seeking a refuge from sorrow in my hometown, even as I enjoy my dearest diversion.

"News people don't come from another planet," I explain. "We hurt too."

She is not sure where she has left her car, so we have plenty of time to share as I accompany her up and down the street until she is confident she is in the right place and can continue on without me. I bow to her one more time before we part.

"You'll all heal," she reassures me.

"Yes, I know," I reply. "Romans 8:28."

There's Something About An 18th Century Man

Dearest Ladies, be honest -- how many of you have at one time dreamed of a man who carries himself well, defends your honour, holds your hand daintily, and dances with you -- all while wearing knee breeches?

Very well, maybe you haven't. But maybe you will, after you watch this:



If you aren't inspired by that, maybe you need another dose:



Dance On, My Friends! See you at the Jane Austen Evening!

Don't You Dare Call It Square

Dearest Dancing Friends, what you in the 21st Century would call a square dance was once called a quadrille or a cotillion. It is a beautiful thing to watch, as this group from the Grand Napoleonic Ball in Florence demonstrates in HD:



Getting people to "slip" in a circle together, in time and in rhythm, is quite an accomplishment in itself.

You might scoff at the French, but they have some intricate and beautiful contredanses, like this one, also from Florence in HD:



And from Vienna comes the waltz, which was just catching on in the early 1800's. The proximity of the dancers and the way they held each other caused quite a stir. Gasp! What are they doing! Yet our group from Florence has avoided these issues:



This doesn't really look like a waltz at all, but more like a contredanse. Oh who cares... My Lady, may I honour you with this dance...