John, nearly ninety, loves to dance. When there is music of any kind he is tapping his toe or bouncing. He is married but he'll ask any lady handy to dance.
It is fun to see the ladies he chooses. Ladies whom you would never suspect could walk across the room will dance with him, polka, foxtrot, jitterbug, or waltz.
The other evening I was playing a Memorial Day Tribute to our honored dead on my keyboard. I chose to read In Flanders Fields, a somber poem and play soft elegiac background music. However I had just started the funeral music when John appeared and started to dance to the dirge.
I had to seat him next to me and actually hold his hands to keep him from snapping his fingers in rhythm to the hymn. It was amusing, but it somehow spoiled the seriousness of the moment. Some people were born to dance...no matter what.