Dancing Parents

Missy Ida and Sol Fried NYC Pride Parade 1980

I grew up with dancing parents. Cha-cha, mambo, merengue, you name it, they danced it, at bar mitzvahs, New Year’s eve parties, cousin club parties, and in our living room.
I think they got along best when dancing.
My older brother won dance contests in his teens.
I spent hours in bars in the 1980s as I whirledtwirled on the floor at Amelia’s on Valencia street, or Clementina’s Bay Brick Inn on Folsom.
My brother Richie, his dancing a joy to behold when I joined him at Trocadero’s on his visits to San Francisco, Sylvester holding court, glittering gorgeous men dancing with twirling fans, the smell of amyl in the air; or at Greg’s in L.A. where he and his best friend, Tommy danced while judging the men’s shoes as part of their fashion craziness.
After my mom’s heart attack in 1985, the dancing stopped, but one day when they were in a Publix in Del Ray Beach Florida, (having moved away from Bayside Queens, my mom could not endure the winters as her heart condition worsened, she hated Florida, but that is another story;) after my dad parked the car he found her in one of the supermarket aisles, tapping her on the shoulder, he asked her to dance, so they did; to the piped-in overhead music that brought them back for a moment, to their dance.