Music has always played a significant role in my life, despite my inability to sing or play any instruments. However, I discovered at a young age that I could operate a radio. When the radio stations failed to play what I wanted, I turned to my collection of 78 rpm records. These records, made from a fragile material called bakelite, were prone to cracking or breaking, so I took great care of them.

I was quite young when I began playing records on our Victrola. My mother enjoyed the Ink Spots, while I preferred the Andrew Sisters.

One evening, while babysitting my younger siblings, I attempted to create a nightclub ambiance by draping T-shirts over the lamps in our living room. It certainly set a mood, but it also set a fire. Fortunately, the shirts catching fire resulted no damage, but I learned an important lesson about incandescent lamps and airflow.

I cherish the memories of our family singing around my grandmother Tyrrell's upright player piano. The piano roll, made of stiff paper with perforations, dictated the notes played by the piano. Grandmother had an extensive collection of piano rolls, neatly organized in a cabinet.

We all knew the lyrics to many songs, including My Blue Heaven, Near You, Don't Fence Me In, If You Knew Susie, Me and My Shadow, and numerous other classics. My father was a talented singer He often sang Peg of My Heart to my mother who went by Peggy.

I was not a singer. As the nuns at school frequently advised me, my singing "threw everyone else off key." However, I becam a dancer. When I was about ten, my parents enrolled my sister and me in tap dance lessons. I envisioned myself dancing like "Jose Greco," unaware that he was a Flamenco dancer rather than Tap.

The dance lessons were short-lived, though, either because we moved or because I was the only boy in the class. Regardless, what I learned in tap laid the groundwork for dancing the Lindy Hop and Jitterbug in my teens, Limbo in my twenties, Disco in my forties, and Ballroom in my sixties.

I was always facinated by instrumrnts that played music. As a teenager, I worked for Mae and Peg Walker. Among their many "antiques" was a Regina Music Box that played 15 1/2 inch metal disks. An arm secured the disc, allowing the tabs to pluck the teeth of a comb and create musical notes. The sound it produced was incredibly rich and full.

Following my full-time employment at the library, my first purchase was a portable Zenith Cobra-matic Hi-Fi. Given my experience in electronics as a ham radio operator, I recognized that High Fidelity was accomplished by employing two 50C5 electron tubes set up in a "push-pull amplifier."

Hi-Fi was the cutting edge of sound technology, and I bought a new 45 RPM record every pay day. I frequently brought my records and Hi-Fi to house parties, where everyone appreciated my music selections featuring Elvis, the Big Bopper, Buddy Holly, and the Righteous Brothers, to name just a few.

The most popular record was "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" by The Drifters. I played it so much I had to buy a new record. Conway Twitty was also a favorite, but someone stole It's Only Make Believe and Mona Lisa at one of the parties. His records were difficult to find, and I could never replace them.

However, joining the military interrupted my musical journey for a couple of decades. Basic training was so demanding that I couldn't recall much about my record collection, and when I returned home on my first leave in the Air Force, my records and Hi-Fi were gone. Following that came marriage, children, college, careers and no time for music.
  When I was around 16 years old, I had discovered a renewed interest in dance. Our music featured slow, romantic tunes from Andy Williams and Johnny Mathis, alongside lively rock-n-roll from Elvis, Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper. House parties were in vogue, often held in parents' "finished basements."

I enjoyed the Saturday night dances at the Alt Park pavilion the most. The park always featured a live band. A set of 10 dance tickets cost $1. I liked partner dancing to the Jitterbug and Lindy Hop, which allowed me 5 dances for my 10 tickets. At that time, the guy paid for the girl, and there was no sense of entitlement or obligation.

Pony Time and the Twist were enjoyable, but others like the Mashed Potatoes, Wahtusi, Nitty-Gritty, Loco-motion, and the Hand Jive didn’t interest me and they disappeared as quickly as they came. However, all the dances required specific steps and movements. Today's generations seem content just bouncing up and down.

Coca-Cola was the preferred beverage, and slow dances were usually reserved for couples in a relationship. Getting lucky simply meant receiving a kiss on the upper level of the pavilion while looking up at the stars or admiring the city lights of Covington, Kentucky, across the Ohio River.

My early attempts at the Lindy Hop and Jitterbug were a bit clumsy, so I turned to my bachelor uncle. I sought his advice because he drove a convertible and always had an attractive woman by his side. With a light laugh, he suggested I "just keep the girl spinning," and I never forgot it!

I was rather shy and didn't have many dates in my teenage years, but I was a talented dancer. I had rhythm, good etiquette, and graceful movements. I never tried those overhead lifts, but with the right partner, I could perform some quite impressive dips.

At one time, I did have a special girl, and I took her to Moonlight Gardens at Coney Island in Cincinnati. Moonlight Gardens was renowned for featuring big bands like Paul Whiteman. While we were dancing, she and another girl accidentally "locked high-heels." It was like trying to separate two deer with locked horns, but I managed to save the evening.

At 21, while stationed at Plattsburgh AFB, I often visited Brody's Night Club, where I earned the title of "Limbo champion." The Limbo craze didn't last much longer than the fame of Chubby Checker's Limbo Rock, but it continued to be popular on beaches like the Jersey Shore. After I got married, I didn't dance again until I became separated.

  One evening following my separation, I visited a nightclub in Marlton, NJ. It was a well-known venue that consistently featured great music, had a suitable dance floor, and hosted live bands on weekends.

I noticed an attractive woman with a Dorothy Hamill hairstyle who was an excellent dancer, outshining her admirers on the dance floor. I asked her for a dance. Even though I was a bit out of practice, our dancing chemistry was undeniable.

Barbara had impressive Jitterbug skills, and I adapted my Lindy Hop to complement her Jitterbug style. This marked the start of an excellent dance partnership that soon developed into a romantic relationship.

As we both had a passion for dancing, we decided to see the movie Saturday Night Fever. The music and dance sequences motivated us to begin dancing Disco. We created numerous impressive moves, some inspired by the film, others from different dancers, and a few that we invented ourselves, all of which were quite graceful and artistic.

Disco nightclubs appeared to be emerging all over the place. Barbara and I frequently found ourselves as the first couple to hit the dance floor, and the bands appreciated us. The other dancers did too. Barbara excelled at "spotting" and could twirl through the whole chorus of Ring My Bell.

Together we choreographed some signature routines. We had a spectacular backwards dip in which Barbara added the flair of a high kick. What made our move unique was how close to the floor we could dip. If there was room on the dance floor, we could turn it into an attention-gripping routine by repeating the dip on the other side.

I could kneel while Barbara danced around me, go backwards on the dance floor while she danced over me, and dip her flat to the floor, kiss her below her neck and spring back up into a dramatic twirling finish. Our movements were graceful and romantic, and executing any combination of them frequently earned a round of applause from those watching and even fellow dancers.

We always showcased impressive moves from Jitterbug to the Twist, occasionally winning a bottle of Champagne for our table with our performances. We were well-recognized at our favourite clubs, often affectionately referred to as Fred and Ginger by our friends at Mama Ventura's.

During a weekend skiing trip to the Playboy Club in Vernon, NJ, we gained considerable popularity for our dancing. When the band started playing after dinner on the second night, they announced, "Where are our dancers Barbara and Charlie?" We responded by taking to the dance floor, greeted by the applause of several couples who had seen us dance the previous night.

A depressing period emerged when the "down with Disco" movement took hold. The Disco era had been a time of great enjoyment, characterized by its sparkling mirror ball, strobe lights, and illuminated dance floors. It is reported that on July 12, 1979, Disco met its demise when a resentful Chicago deejay named Steve Dahl orchestrated Disco Demolition Night during a Chicago White Sox double-header at Comiskey Park.

Baseball fans who brought disco records to the game could get in for 98 cents. But mahem resulted from his stunt of blowing up crates filled with more than 1,000 disco records as 60,000 fans chanted "Disco sucks! Disco sucks!" The detonation ripped a hole in the outfield, players ran for cover, drunk fans threw their disco records at each other, jumped the fences, stole the bases, toppled the batting cages, and tore up the infield. The White Sox had to forfeit the second game but another nail was hammered into Disco's coffin.

Thus, Disco came to an end. Nightclubs started shutting down one after another. For a time, free-style disco appeared, but music evolved, and dancing turned into simply jumping up and down on a packed dance floor. Nevertheless, the Disco ball continued to be a favorite, and the music never truly disappeared.

All it took to fill an empty dance floor was playing Disco music, and most of the dancers were unaware that the music was a disco beat. But jumpimg up and down had replaced the beautiful moves of artful partner dancing.

  The end of disco marked the end of an era in my life. My sons moved in with me, Barbara and I separated, I lost my job and drifted from one role to another, friends faded away, partner dancing ceased, I moved from New Jersey to Pennsylvania, I spent many nights at the pool hall, and I bought Christmas gifts for strangers.

I had managed to find some stability in the Real Estate sector, but I was far from what one might consider successful. During that period, I met Joyce. We purchased a house together, but for some reason, she found a new partner, and I moved out.

In the meantime, however, I had secured a position in computer programming. This new career was quite fulfilling, and I had a consistent income. I met Marcia, but Marcia was not a dancer. A memorable moment in our relationship was when we adopted a greyhound that was at risk of being euthanized because she was not a winning racer.

After changing jobs and relocating from New Jersey to Pennsylvania, Marcia ended our relationship. For the next two years, I focused on my work as a PICK programmer. For leisure, I started playing pool at a charming little tavern in Jenkintown, PA, where I made several new friends.

In April 1993, I attended a singles night at the Blue Bell Inn in Blue Bell, PA. There was a band and ample space for dancing, although there was no designated dance floor. I initiated a conversation with the woman sitting next to me at the bar and asked if she would like to dance.

Although she wasn't a dancer herself, she gladly introduced me to her friend, who she claimed had a passion for dancing. Her friend Betty accepted my invitation to dance, and as soon as we hit the dance floor, I sensed that I might have found a skilled new partner.

Betty and I quickly began dating regularly. We spent almost every Friday evening dining out and dancing at the Blue Bell. During the weekends, I would help her in her yard, or we would enjoy outings together. She would cook, or I would grill something.

Betty had a lovely cat named Muffy, who would dash home at the sound of an electric can opener. Muffy boasted a large, fluffy tail and loved to nap in a tree in the front yard. When I heard about a stray kitten needing a home, I chose to adopt her and named her Brandy.

I went on my first ocean cruise with Betty. We traveled through the Mediterranean, exploring Italy, visiting Greece, and concluding our journey in Spain. We became quite popular for our dancing on the cruise and even enjoyed dinner one evening at the Captain's table, complete with Champagne and caviar. I would later discover that the Song of Norway was Royal Caribbean's inaugural cruise ship.

Betty and I were in a relationship for five years. My job as a computer programmer was secure, and my income provided a comfortable lifestyle. However, Betty was not looking for a serious commitment. She often spoke of her late husband Bud, and I was never permitted to see or call her during the week. She consistently asked me to leave by 7:00 P.M. on Sundays.

After being together for so long, this relationship, which was only available for the weekend, started to bring me considerable emotional pain. To occupy my evenings throughout the week, I took up writing and occassionally went to the pool hall. While Brandy provided decent companionship, I yearned to be with Betty.

  On a lonely night in January 1998, I went back to Blue Bell's Tuesday singles night. Many of the people there knew me and inquired about Betty. I explained that she simply chose not to go out during the week.

I decided not to dance, but while a woman was dancing with her partner, our eyes met. She was lovely but her dance partner was sitting next to her at the far end of the bar, and I assumed they were together. Later, as the crowd thinned out, she came over to me at the bar and asked why I hadn’t asked her to dance after our eyes met.

We shared the last dance of the night, and I offered to walk her to her car. She invited me to sit with her inside the car and disclosed that she was married; her husband played poker on Tuesday nights, and allowed her to go dancing.

She suggested that if I was interested, we could meet the following Tuesday, but she made it clear that our relationship would only involve dancing. I agreed to meet her the next week. We continued to see each other regularly on Tuesday nights.

Few women could spin like Barbara, but our dips were impressive. Disco and Salsa share similarities in that regard, and soon the patrons at Blue Bell anticipated seeing Shanez and me dancing every Tuesday night. Betty and I danced less frequently at Blue Bell.

We danced elegantly together as a couple. Shanez always wore stylish outfits and had a charisma that attracted the attention of everyone around. Our conversations were delightful, and I learned that her husband was a doctor. One evening, when I commented on her genuine black pearls, she replied, "Everything I own is real."

Shanez was so captivating that I invited my son Joe to come and watch us dance. He came to the Blue Bell Inn, and Shanez was rather taken with his gentlemanly behavior. She had a client at her beauty salon, a young woman named Patricia, whom she thought would be a great match for Joe.

With Patricia's approval, she gave Joe her number and encouraged him to reach out to her. It was summer before he called, and Patricia invited him to meet her at her parents' vacation home in Ocean City. They met that summer day, and the following year, on October 9, 1999, Joe and Patricia got married.

Meanwhile, in August of that year, Shanez was heading to London to visit her brother and his wife. She had lived in London for college and beauty training and even met her husband there. She knew the city well and offered to make reservations for me to visit the city while she was there. I accepted.

With Joa and Patricia married, Shanez became a friend of my family, and I became a friend of her's. We began dancing two or three nights a week and choreographed some fantastic routines. We could disco, cha-cha-cha, salsa, and even did a bit of tango together. We had many friends and admirers at the nightclubs where we danced.

In March 2002, Shanez planned a ten-day trip to Acapulco, Mexico, while her husband was on business in Iran. She invited me to accompany her on the vacation. I felt somewhat uncertain about the situation since Shanez and I were not in a romantic relationship, and I had received warnings about the possibility of falling ill in Mexico. Nevertheless, I decided to go.

We occupied a room with individual beds and stayed suitably dressed in each other's presence; wearing pajamas and bathrobes. I have to confess that she was the more strict one, not I. Nevertheless, I held her, our relationship and her marriage in high regard.

Mexico was incredible. The restaurants, entertainment, nightclubs, and dancing were the best I had ever experienced. The highlight was one night when we won the salsa dance contest. The next morning, we found out that we had gained a few "fans" who wanted to take a picture with us.

Unfortunately, I did get sick in Mexico and bought all the Pepto Bismol the local pharmacy had in stock. After that, I had no desire to return to Mexico. Although we stopped dancing together, Shanez and I remained friends until I moved to Arizona in 2007.

  In April 2008, I met Joan. After retiring to Arizona and escaping the turmoil of a horrible relationship, I was eager to enjoy the retirement I had envisioned. I turned to online dating, looking for a lady who enjoyed golfing and dancing.

It can be challenging to find a suitable dance partner, but I have been fortunate to meet four amazing dancers. On April 5, 2008, I met Joan, marking the start of a deep friendship, a remarkable partnership, and we fell in love!

After dinner on our second date, we went to Chances Are in Old Town Scottsdale. It quickly became one of our favourite spots to dance. While I was residing in Mesa, Joan and I also enjoyed dancing at Anna's at the Arizona Golf Resort and where we perfected or Cha-Cha-Cha.

After I moved to Anthem with Joan, we enjoyed many Friday nights dancing to fantastic bands during the club's happy hours. We always looked forward to the club's New Year's Eve parties, especially when they were formal events. Come Back Buddy became a favorite band, and we have been dancing to their music for 17 years.

In 2009, we set off on a transatlantic cruise with Crystal. Joan had previously sailed with Crystal on the ship Harmony, where she enjoyed the company of dance hosts, instructors, and fantastic music. This was our chance to dance our way across the Atlantic from Miami to Lisbon, Portugal.

During the cruise, we encountered dance instructors Curtis Collins, Beverly Durand, Junior Cervilla, and Natalie Miles. We would later join Curtis and Beverly on six more cruises. Natalie traveled with us on several cruises, but sadly, the dance community lost its beloved Natalie to cancer.

At the conclusion of this cruise, we participated in Crystal's renowned Dance Showcase, moving to the rhythmic beats of Donna Summer's Last Dance. All other guests danced with Curtis, Beverly, Junior, or Natalie. We were the only couple among the guests dancing. We performed well considering our dance was not well-rehearsed having received our one-minute version of the music on the morning of the show.

Not all our Crystal cruises had a Big Band theme, but we have danced to the tunes of Tommy Dorsey, Glen Miller, Artie Shaw, and Nikki Parrott with her Atlantic Big Band. We took part in four Dance Showcases, performing the Hustle, Swing, and Cha-Cha-Cha on the last two Big Band cruises.

There is a long list of professional dancers we have met over the years. Besides Curtis and Beverly, the most memorable include Natalie and Youri, Elena and Alexander, Patricia and Adam, and Leighton and Jo. Our favorite dance hosts are Ron, Emery, Stanley, and Norman.

We have enjoyed three cruises with the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra. Today, the Orchestra continues to flourish under Terry Myers' leadership, who, like Jimmy Dorsey, plays clarinet and saxophone. We have appreciated not only the band's wonderful music but also the company of Terry and his lovely wife Linda, singer Bryan Anthony with his impressive renditions of Frank Sinatra, as well as trombonist Will Nestler and singer Michelle Amato. Will and Michelle got engaged on one of our cruises and are now married.

On Crystal Serenity, the big bands performed in Palm Court, which boasted one of the largest and most beautiful dance floors at sea. On the Symphony, the big bands played in the Starlite Club. Whether with or without a big band, dancing is always part of the plans on Crystal.

The Starlite Club on Serenity and the Stardust Club on Symphony provide dancing to the Crystal Quartet for the best in Latin and ballroom dancing. When the clubs closed, Joan and I would head to the disco where a DJ played records until the early hours of the morning.

Both ships featured Crystal Cove and the Avenue Saloon. The Cove and the Saloon were excellent places to enjoy happy hour with cocktails, live piano music, and to socialize with other passengers. Crystal Cove showcased The Crystal Piano and offered a calming atmosphere, while the Saloon provided more lively entertainment.

In 2020, we had planned a cruise from Barcelona, Spain to Quebec City, Canada, but it was canceled due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The panic surrounding this pandemic remains a mystery to me, as claims lost credibility one after another. Everyone was required to wear masks because millions of "asymptomatic" individuals were allegedly spreading the disease.

Allegedly, these individuals showed no symptoms, were not ill, and might never become sick. This assertion, along with all the asymptomatic individuals, vanished like morning fog over a pond with the arrival of the vaccine.

By 2021, vaccination against COVID-19 became mandatory for everyone. A new speculative claim arose. As the percentage of vaccinated individuals exceeded 60%, yet the number of new infections and deaths remained unchanged, blame was directed at the "unvaccinated." This assertion could not be mathematically accurate without exponential growth of the disease among the unvaccinated population.

Like all previous claims, this one also became unfounded, leading to yet another new assertion. The vaccine did not prevent COVID-19 infection; it merely alleviated symptoms. Thus, no one could guarantee that vaccinated individuals would not contract COVID or ensure that there would never be severe reactions to the vaccine.

By 2022, the situation became even more bizarre. Now, vaccinated individuals were advised to "fear unvaccinated individuals." Those unvaccinated were excluded from various places, activities, and especially cruises. Every vaccinated, double vaccinated, and triple vaccinated person I know has had a bout with COVID.