Cyberspace, however, was amazingly silent. Except for Lisa (who gracefully declined without mockery), no one else replied.


I wasn’t all that surprised. Even before clicking the “send” button, I suspected my e-note would be received with reactions that ranged from incredulity to outright, out-loud, outrageous laughter.


Thus, the “safety” of e-communication!


“Country line-dancing?!” I could just hear them retort. “Are you kidding?!!”


“Country?!”


“Line-dancing?!”


“Who ARE you?!!”


Well, you know, we all go through our life phases. And I won’t pretend that mine have ever really been completely in sync with the rest of my peers’. When “The Electric (Boogie)’’ came out in 1976, for example, and everyone else was doing the Electric Slide, I was ... well, who knows what I was doing? That was 30 years ago. All I can tell you is I don’t know how to do the Electric Slide. (Yes, you should feel sorry for me.)


Anyway, right now country music is big in some circles. Just not mine.


Lately, though, I’ve been listening to Trace Atkins’ “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” Neil McCoy’s “Billy’s Got His Beer Goggles On,” and Trisha Yearwood’s “Georgia Rain.”


Credit — blame? — goes to my husband and daughter.


Tim grew up and works in Berks County and ...


Enough said.


Although I have to mention that I did invite my husband to accompany me to the line-dancing classes. His response? “That would be like me asking you to sit through another football game in subfreezing weather.” Been there. Done that. TORTURE.


Valerie is now a Southern belle. Where she lives, CMT is the video music station; Cowboys is the place for 20-somethings to unwind; and Keith Urban is the guy to drool over. Anyway, whenever Valerie comes home to visit, the radio in my car is suddenly set on WIOV 105.1 or WRBT 94.9.


So now I’m kinda hooked, at least for a spell.


Anyway, that’s my long explanation for the country part. As for the line-dancing, well, I need to exercise. And I had this idea that line-dancing might be exercise that doesn’t feel like exercise. Or would at least get my heart rate up regularly enough that I could think about real exercise.


I also had this goofy thought that maybe this year, when our gang of friends makes its annual trip in March to Harrison’s Chesapeake House at Tilghman Island, Md., we might try to blend in with the locals a little bit. Every year it’s the same thing: The entertainers sing and play country music; the Tilghman watermen and their sweeties sing and dance; and we “Northerners” grumble until they start playing some rock-’n’-roll.


Anyway, I guess I could have gone to the rec-center classes on my own. Instead, I resorted to an Internet purchase of a line-dance DVD. And here’s the good news: One of the dance lessons listed on the DVD is the Electric Slide!


Maybe I won’t be doing the Honky Tonk Badonkadonk; but, hey, I’ll finally be able to Boogie Woogie Woogie!




Anne Koenig is editor of the Living section. Write to her at akoenig@lnpnews.com. blog comments powered by Disqus