While kicking it at the People's Fair today at Civic Center park in Denver, I was soaking in the sights and sounds -- the rockabilly stylings of my favorite local band, Brethren Fast -- as well as the sun's stinging rays.
Nearby, a tiny tyke grasped a box of golden raisins in her chubby right hand and darted across the wide space under the watchful eye of Daddy. She had a green sun hat on, along with pink ruffled shorts and a shirt to match. I pegged her at about 20 months old, her energetic body bouncing along to the band (I think they were covering Folsom Prison Blues/Get Rhythm from Johnny Cash).
But just after I spotted her dancing, I saw a fifty-something man bouncing along just the same. He had stripped off his T-shirt and frolicked happily to the guitar, drums and inviting bass from B-Fast. Something in the sound made him want to move. My mom and I giggled, peeking glances at the man displaying his midday dance. It looked . . . fun.
And to him, it didn't matter who was watching.
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