This virus thing has thrown plans for my grandsons’ Bar Mitzvahs into a tizzy.
This is a Jewish ritual in which a 13-year-old participates in a service, is called to the Torah, the holy scroll, and reads from it. The teen has been practicing his Hebrew reading for months because they know if they do it right they get to go to the over-the-top party their parents have been planing since the child was born. Actually, the party is going to take place whatever happens, except if there’s a virus that may force things to be canceled.
The party is big, not only in numbers, but in recollections everyone will recall in minute detail years from now. Cousins and aunts and uncles our teens have never met come from far and wide to celebrate this. It is like the Mardi Gras on steroids. Women get their hair dyed and men get ready to talk about how successful they are. You can tell it’s a really big deal.
As a grandfather, I have taken it upon myself to get ready for this event not by getting ready to talk but to wow my ex-brothers-in law on the dance floor.
I am learning to do the Macarena.
This is no easy feat for me. The last time I was on the dance floor was when “The Twist” was breaking all sales records. My relationship with Chubby Checker lasted right up until I twisted to the right and my back went to the left.
When Mr. Checker recorded “Let’s Twist Again” I had to part ways with him, as my vertebrae wanted no part of this.
So when the Bar Mitzvah plans were announced I felt I had to overcome my fears on the dance floor.
The Macarena, by the way, is a dance, sort of, in which a bunch of people stand in a group on the dance floor (I assume we’d be six feet apart to do our social distancing thing). You throw your arms in front of you, flip your hands over, bring them back to your shoulders and eventually bring them back to the top of your toosh, rotate your hips, jump to the side while turning and start over again.
It’s a Spanish dance song about a woman of the same name. Its lyrics are incredibly racy and can’t be repeated in a family blog. But since no one knows what the lyrics actually say, it’s perfectly appropriate for a Bar Mitzvah.
As I practiced the Macarena, careful to follow the You Tube instructor, I grew more and more confident, throwing my hands out in front of me without the need for rotator cuff surgery. The rotating of my hips however, threw me for a loop because they hadn’t been rotated much since I was in my youth.
Nevertheless, I persevered so that after two weeks of practice I feel I am at the top of my game.
Thus, I am ready for the parties and to wow the crowds, not to mention everyone else who will be astounded by my latest moves.
As a matter of fact, since one Bar Mitzvah follows the other by a month, I have enough time left to work on my next project.
The Electric Slide.