Hinging my hopes on the next generation

I can't dance. It has something to do with growing up Mennonite probably. Or at least that's convenient to say. After all, Mennonites weren't supposed to dance. My high school banned dances and the college I went to didn't sponsor dances until three years before I arrived. In college, I rarely danced because I was usually the DJ. That was a convenient out as well.

The fact is that the "oh, I'm Mennonite, so that's why I can't dance or have any sort of moves except for the running man" masks an important fact: even I would have had more opportunities to dance, that doesn't mean that I actually could physically do it. I'm not alone. I haven't read any studies, but if there was one about Mennonites and dancing, I'm pretty sure it would show that 85 percent of Mennonites born before 1982 have no rhythm.

So, I was hopeful this morning when Mauren took time out from our tea party to dance to the Gaslight Anthem. She has moves, including a little hip shake and a tilting head nod. Best of all, she was to the beat. The next generation may actually have some rhythm.