All the dances for me

During my teenage years, I frequented several bell-ringers barn dances. Being so enthusiastic, ringing the church bells two or three times a week was not sufficient; I required myself to indulge in every possible aspect of the pastime. Campanology was more than a hobby for me; it was a social life and my world of friendship as well.

At the first dance, I was unsure what it was all about. Any social event concerning my friends was important to me, however. I paid my ticket fee and I arrived at the village hall at the allotted time, preparing to find out exactly what a barn dance was. On subsequent occasions, I was extremely eager to attend. It was an annual event involving music and dance as well as friendship and possibly romance. Who knew which of the bell ringers I might dance with!

During those teenage years, I understandably went mushy on one or two fellow ringers. Each time the annual barn dance arrived, so did possibility and dreams. I might dance with those special someones. As it turned out, I danced nearly every dance on nearly every occasion. Many dances were started with one partner and then partners traded, so that anyone in the entire dance could partner you at some point. Others, you held your partner and swirled and stepped about the room under their control.

One year, I was lucky enough to begin every single dance with a special someone. I would talk of nothing else for several weeks afterwards. Eager to 'show off' my possible relationship, based only on a friend who happened to dance with me and nothing more, I would boast to my parents and feature every detail I could recall in conversation to them - over, and over, and over again. I recall using this specific song to illustrate the importance of having danced with one man only. I had not - as in the song - had the last dance with my chosen partner, but I had danced all the rounds with him. Although this might detract from the song, I had bent the title to illustrate my point.