Head: Talk to Feet

How often have I said to my now-20-year-old son when he spouted a negative attitude: "What's in your head? What are you telling yourself?"

This isn't airy-fairy new age nonsense. You are what you think.

As I take on the challenge of tap dancing at age 55, it couldn't be more true. From the first day of class, the instructor prodded us to talk to our feet. I knew what she had meant, but I didn't weigh the importance of this simple act until our first performance at the Harrisburg St. Patrick's Day Parade.

We knew the routine, a relatively simple one even for a New Beginner. (New Beginners are those of us who have never taken a dance class.) But, our instructor likes to throw in new moves, mostly at the last minute. While this improves the routine, it also befuddles and works up a lot of new dancers. What's more, our instructor added music to the number. We practiced without music and were told we would be dancing to the beat of a drum.

The morning of the parade, our instructor points to a vintage 60s red convertible, speakers hitched to the back seat, and with great joy, exclaims, "Dancers, we have music!"

Indeed we did. Who can resist "All Shook Up" by Elvis?

We had a few minutes of practice, where we were told to wait eight counts before beginning the routine. It all came together, there on the Capitol steps, as one hundred and twenty tappers slapped, kicked and wiggled our hips to the familiar tune. Yeah, we had it down.

And then we rounded the corner of Commonwealth to Walnut, suddenly stopped, turned and faced our first crowd. One hundred and twenty tappers, all wearing lime green tee shirts and black trousers,  a dance troupe there to bring the crowd precision and smiles!

The familiar bass riff began. From the corner of my eye, I saw my fellow tappers begin the routine. That can't be right. Sure enough, the center block of the group began a beat or two later, and those of us in the rear then launched into the opening slap steps. We looked like a lime and black version of "the wave."

What happened?

Those closest to the music panicked. The tape playing in their head may have sounded something like this: "Oh my god. There are people here. I have to perform. There's the music -- GO!"

The rest of us? "They started too soon. What do we do? Well, I guess we -- GO!"

We cleaned up our act on the next performance, and by the time we arrived at the judge's table, we were damn near perfect.

Talk to your feet.  Today is a great day. I'm going to nail that test. I'm in the right place. I'm a tap dancer.

Well, maybe not yet. But I'm working on it.