Wild, Wonderful, Women

Part of this blogs function is to remind me that I have more blessings than any one person deserves. I have my health, for the most part. I have two of the most loving daughters one could hope to have. And Lisa picked Michael to be her life partner and he is the son I never had. I have Joanie and her family. I have brothers and sisters, Mom and Dad. And thank God, this week, I have a car that runs. And I have the Zydeco Community. Specifically, the Wild, Wonderful Women of Zydeco.

They are a varied lot. There are the tall, the medium, the short, and the shorter. They are white and they are black. They are thin, medium and thick (yours truly). The age span is close to 40 years from the youngest to the oldest. There is red hair, blonde hair, brown hair and black hair and no hair. One of these incredible women is now cancer free and one is in the middle of her chemo sessions.

And this is not to say that my tribe doesn't have great men in it. It does, but I'll blog about them later. This is about the women.

With all of those differences the women have two things in common. One - this is obvious - we're women. And Two - these women love to dance. They crave zydeco. But they also dance Cajun, salsa, fox trot, swing, Lindy, West Coast Swing and there are some of them who have done performance and competitive ballroom dancing.

As much fun as I have at every dance I attend, I always leave feeling like something didn't get done. I do a quick review: I introduced the band, check, got them water, check, worked the entrance desk, check, paid the band, check and I danced, check. And there is usually some quick,usually interrupted conversations which are hard to hear over the band. Hmm, what was missing?

A few weeks ago I figured it out again. I was dusting and I picked up a rock that is on my windowsill so that it can catch the sun. In gold writing on this rock it says "Vicki Crespo." Vicki was my friend. We traveled, danced, laughed, ate, giggled and got pedicures together. Vicki died a few years ago while undergoing treatment for breast cancer. She didn't die from the cancer but from an infection. I was on my way to spend the weekend with her with I got the call. Vicki loved the women in the zydeco community. I never saw this woman without a smile on her face and her wild, beautiful, blonde curls would be bobbing around while her red Cowgirl boots flashed past you on the dance floor. Vicki did everything in her life with a hug and a laugh.

When I saw that rock with Vicki's name, I knew, I remembered what was missing. Connection. Connection with the women in my tribe. So I sent out an email and 27 incredible women knocked on my door with bounteous dishes of food to share in their hands. And we spent the next four hours connecting. We talked, we ate, we laughed, we shared some hopes, dreams, fears, pictures of grandchildren, books and travel. We talked about our pets, our jobs, our lack of jobs.

We didn't hold any great debates. I didn't hear too much talk about politics, or tea parties. A little about the economy and the value of our homes, maybe, but we didn't find the cure for cancer (though I wish we had), we didn't come up with any life changing theories. We even talked about buying an apartment building that we could all live in and take care of each other as we age. We hugged, we held hands, we kissed each other. We connected.