Mom! It's your fault!!

I bought it last Wednesday; iTunes stats tell me I have listened to it 103 times.  I'm on day seven and number six just synched in.  When i hear it, especially when being showered by beams of D, my gooseneck starts going, abs engage, ass swishes and the spring of the print turns into a contagious ricochet...

It's not innate; but, was taught.  Mitten humidity was low and the sun tea was perched on the deck when my mother handed over her stacks of wax; Chubby Checker was on top.  I popped that fast sped RPM disc on my turquoise cased puffy sticker covered turntable with curiosity.  The saxophones blared their low tones before layered with a tenor busting through with "Come on baby!  Let's do the twist..."  My mother was moving her hips, arms and legs in this contorted pulsing way across the shined linoleum as I just watched.  She was doing a move that plastered a gleaming grin on her face called The Twist.  She beamed a smile my way that encouraged this awkward skinny four eyed child to hit the floor with her.  As I moved the needle to the outer rim for a second time, though cramped in the gut, she showed me how to lift a leg, orbit the arms and pop the hip.

Mom loves music; my folks were lucky and grew up in Detroit when Barry Gordy was innovating American airways with a new sound, the Motown sound.  She did not bequeath her LPs, I found them and started exploring.  Dee Dee Sharp had the Philly sound; just as driving, hip defining, toe tapping and smile gleaming.  I asked Mom how to mash potato, she said, she had one better.  Mom placed the LP on her stereo turntable and cranked the knob.  "Come on baby, I need gravy..." her feet started doing this in and out motion.  As I mocked her movement, we were giggling and smiling when all of a sudden Dee Dee sang the word "Gravy" and mom started to pour it on!  Her feet moved to the metronome beat while her arms were moving in half speed pouring the gravy all over the mashed pile of supposed potato!

Mom, it's your fault that I have the courage and confidence to dance through a world filled with decisions, challenges, peaks and valleys.  With a smile and groove inherited from you, no matter impression, judgement or difference, I dedicate every move your way.  Until the next dance, I love you!

Hi, I'm Joey; gosh is it good to see you!

As the decaf parts my lips, my brain goes on a race of ideas.  I downloaded a tune from the "i" and laced the shoes.  I have an 8:00 pm call and it's balmy; no scarf, packed bag and head up.  It's time to stomp across the Willamette towards my illuminated city.  The refraction of reflection was seen as a chaotic delineated path, but last night it felt peaceful.  For all the distortion, a realization of examined piecing together brought a start of understanding.

Adam Levine is booming in the plugs; no one has moves like Jagger...  I got the opening to "Center Stage" running in my head; I have three pans of the camera set.  First:  Jackie Gleason-ing, with a busker plie' turn wrapping black p-coat around the bod for protection; bending knee pop, smiling.  A bit of Gene Kelly stomping down the stoop stairs through the court yard across the damp tiles.  Second:  knee popping while the crosswalk sign gives the permission or traffic ceases; it's southeast, intention and determination is a commonality we all share; besides shades of black.  The neon from the tattoo parlor, sandwich shop and instrumental repair buzzing overhead while coat is widely waiving to the swish of the backside; hitch kick, cross the asphalt.  Third:  hit the Morrison; orange sign says sidewalk closed; missed it and it's message.  City Center is getting larger and larger with every approaching stomp.  

Grab another decaf with one raw sugar; hit Broadway.  Damn, the Portland marquee draping the Ave. with glory and light.  Sign in, two elevators, plus a maze in the underground; I arrive to the fourth floor, enter the room and become the next character, Butch.  Luck, work, collaboration and determination.  I may never understand why, but I get the how.  Maybe I do have a move like Jagger...

Portland, I chose you eight years ago because of the settled feeling I felt when I entered your urban boundary.  I'll order a plate of overabundance of opportunity; with a side of chance.  Wash you down with a glass of support and encouragement.