Morphological Confetti

I want to share with you today my memories of dance. It must have happened when I was an infant watching my parents dance. No, I don’t remember seeing my parents dance, but I can just imagine how beautiful the moment must appear to a child. For the first time, the child is witnessing the movement of limbs and hips in harmony with the beat of the music. As older children, my brothers and I would play for most of the day in front of our apartment building, but sometimes my mother would gather us in the house with our friends and turn on her record player. The song that comes to mind in memory is “ Car Wash ” by the R&B group, Rose Royce. I remember we would all take turns dancing in the middle of the circle. When my turn came up, I would close my eyes and just allow my body to flow with the rhythm of the music. I remember the exhilarating feeling and laughing as my mother cheered me on, "Go head Stevie!" The moment left an indelible impression on my mind. It influenced ...

She was my grandmother's older sister. Amanita was born and raised right here in Washington, D.C. My grandmother described her as the "party" sister or at least the more adventurous one. She hit all of the hot spots as a young woman in DC during the 1940’s. Her favorite hang out spots were places like, The Howard Theater and bars like The Casbah on U Street. She would outgrow the DC scene and move to Chicago sometime in the 1950’s. She lived on the South Side of Chicago for almost 20 years before moving back to DC in the late 60’s. By the time I came along Amanita had lived most of her life. She settled down into an apartment on E street in Northeast DC. As a matter of fact, her apartment was right across the hall from my grandmother’s place. Amanita would get me dressed every morning for school when I began kindergarten at Gibbs Elementary in 1972. She would fuss and tug as she tried to get me ready for school in the morning. I would always asked her for some ...

I was a stone cold junkie after the first time I heard Curtis speak He was Super fly way before I knew about any pimp named Priest To me He represented Black music, Black hopes, and Black dreams when I was just a kid racing popsicle sticks along ghetto streams By Stephen Bess 2005   ©