Black Tie Party

All day Thursday we were reminded of the exciting events planned for the evening. Lunch was a half an hour early. Dinner was an hour early. Extra time was needed for preparations for the party.

The event was called a “black tie” party. Kind of a late Valentine’s Day celebration. Residents and staff were encouraged to dress up for the shindig. 

People started drifting into the front lobby just after dinner, which was about 4:30. The party was scheduled for 6:00 PM, but we were sitting there an hour early in anticipation. 

I brought a long dress I found in the move from Nevada last year for Carolyn. I gave most of her square dance dresses away, but I later found this one in the back of the closet, so I just tossed it in with the rest of the stuff moving to Oklahoma. 

I tried it on her before dinner, and much to my surprise, it fit perfectly. Since she had no “pettipanties” (frilly underwear, usually in matching colors to the dress) I went to WalMart and bought a pair of black shorts to wear under the dress. Not that there was any danger of me twirling her fast enough to expose anything under that dress! 

The dress was a heavy full circle skirt attached to a shirred silky top, gathered in the front and zippered in the back. The skirt part was a shiny ecru base with dark black appliquéd fabric around the bottom, which looked like cording in a pleasing pattern. I hope to add pictures soon, as plenty were taken by others, both posed and candid shots. 

Carolyn is improving daily as her pelvis seems completely healed. I can lead her around by holding her hands, and her balance has improved to the point where I can walk her around in promenade position. For non dancers, that is where the couple walks side by side with hands held across in front, both walking forward. If she was to fall, I would not be able to catch her as easily, but I would swing her down to a gentle landing in front of me. I watch her closely, and she seems stable. 

She is still able to follow dance patterns, and that really helps when transferring her in and out of chairs. I can ask her to roll left or right to turn her, and she follows orders to side step left or right also.

I wore my dark gray pants and sport coat I bought at Burlington Coat Factory last year for my granddaughter Melissa’s wedding in Austin. I put a coat of black polish on my shoes, and put on the darkest tie I had (Navy blue print). The white shirt was a white western square dance shirt, but you couldn’t tell because the tie covered all the pearl snaps down the front.

They had a little problem getting the music to play. They were streaming music from the Internet, I think. After a half an hour, they got it playing music from the teens and twenties. 

One of the staff was trying to dance with a resident woman who knew how to do the Charleston. She is old enough that she might have done it when it was popular. It would have been difficult to do it right, since it was on carpet. Those dances were all crazy movement from the waist down—sliding, gyrating, kicking moves that looked like their legs were made from rubber. Not much arm movement until a decade later with the Jitterbug.

Small cups of wine and grape juice were served, with small pastries filled with cream and cold strawberries. The party went on for well past an hour. Headbands with feathers, masks on a stick and plastic fedora hats were passed out to everybody, and most people wore them and everybody laughed and talked and had a great time.

Except one. One of the older women had parked herself in the couch to sleep and took loud offense at her daughter trying to get her up to get dressed for the party. Two of her daughters came to the party, and I’m sure were disappointed that their mother was not in a partying frame of mind. But one of the things about dementia that you soon learn is to go with the flow. There is no use arguing with a person who is not able to reason. 

The party continued with her sleeping on the couch, with the throw pillows stacked around her to keep out the noise, I guess. She had fun in her own way, maybe. 

The lesson here can work out in the outside world, too. There is no use getting mad because somebody doesn’t do what you want them to. Imagine how much conflict could be avoided if everybody let other people do their own thing. No body trying to force their religion on other people, nobody trying to force their political views on others, each nation going its own way and not interfering in the nations around them. Wouldn’t that be a great world to live in?

“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one!”