My live and let die moment

My very first year as a camper was just short of disastrous. I was --and I'm paraphrasing quotes by Skip and Phineus here-- the second worst home sick case in the history of Camp Kawabi (the first being awarded to my friend Deepe...way to go man!). I was miserable, cried all the time, and most likely made my councilor's lives a living hell. However, I was extremely fortunate to have three fantastic councilors my first year as a camper: the aforementioned Phineus, Sasquatch and Luten, whom I've tried to give my props to in my all star councilor list several entries ago. Man, these guys worked super hard to settle me down and get me into the groove of things. And by the second week, I began to do just that; I even began to sort of...to...well, like the place. But I was still making these buggers work for their pay (!?).

Right about the time I started not minding the place, the camp dance occurred. At the age of 7, this was my first dance. I did not know how to dance; I did not know how to relate to girls, let alone ask one to dance; and I was completely clued out in relating to the social complexities of a camp dance. As a result, I spent a large amount of time hugging the plywood walls of Squamish, only occasionally being dragged by a female staff member or senior girl onto the dancefloor to get jiggy with it, which at that age resembled some sort of cross between running on the spot and a seizure. Luten was DJing the dance, complete with dual turntable and receiver that was about the size of a stationwagon. I looked upon him as a lifeboat in this sea of mortification, and angled my way over to the DJ table, where I hoped to disappear amongst the stacks of album-filled milk crates. Of course he noticed this, and realizing that between the homesickness and the communal hysteria of the dance that I was close to having some sort of meltdown. He had also noticed that I was thumbing my way through the LP supply, checking out the titles (thanks to almost hip parents and older sibling, I had a rudimentary musical knowledge). He made me a deal, offering that if I promised to go and ask somebody to dance, he'd play anything I wanted.

Now in 1977 I was big into Wings. That's right, Band on the Run-Paul MacCartney and Wings...did I mention it was 1977 and I was only 7? And lo and behold sitting there before me was a copy of Wings greatest hits. So I asked Luten to play my favourite song off the album, Live and Let Die. He did, and I went and found some idle G1 and managed to get her to dance/flail with me. A social breakthrough, even epiphany had been breached. I was able to ask girls to dance and get out on that dance floor, and by God, actually enjoy myself. This was huge; it was if Kawabi had given me my own gentile Barmitzvah several years early.

The next day I told all this to my brother, who was a cool B7 dude by that point. He replied that, yeah, he figured it was me that asked for that song. He continued, by telling me that, "you know, you can't dance to Live and Let Die. It doesn't have a steady beat. Didn't you notice that everybody was struggling to dance to that?" So he did what all good older brothers do, crushed my spirit in my moment of triumph. The bastard did have a point though. You can't dance to live and let die without some sort of narcotic enhancement. I was mortified by this, and if anybody remembers this dance, and that song being spun, let me again apologize for having that song played and disrupting the rhythmic continuity of the July 1977 Kawabi dance.

I have to admit, I'm still embarrassed by this. But you know what, I never worried about dancing in public again or asking a girl to join me.