Of the many photos I have of my mom or my dad or both (and I do have many), this is one of my favorites. It stays on our refrigerator and I smile every time I look at it. It's how I like to remember them—this was taken as they were coming off a dance floor in Decatur, IN—and to me, it just captures their essence of how they tried to live their lives—they're having fun, they're in the moment, they're together, the night is young, and they just finished doing something they enjoy doing together.To say I wish they were here to enjoy this experience with me is the understatement of the century. They would be COMPLETELY into this—they were dance parents, parade parents, neighborhood parents (all the kids ended up at our house, in our backyard, or in my playhouse), band parents—they were involved. My mom would be driving anywhere with me I wanted to go to look at dresses or costumes or shoes (with the requisite girls' lunch always thrown in—her treat); she would be watching every dance program on TV each week, taking notes and writing down tips to pass on; she would have MANY opinions about how I should wear my hair (I actually think she would like what we've decided); she would dance and practice with me at home if I asked her to; she would find five pair of fishnets that would work; she would act like it was not a big deal when she talked to me, but brag like crazy when she talked to her niece in Ohio or her brother in Florida. My dad would be proud—he would tear up talking about how I was doing with this, regardless of how I was doing. He would call me "sis" whenever he asked about dance practice, he would be telling his pool-playing buddies about it at the community center, or the neighbors, or a stranger at Walmart or Meijer's, or in later years, his new dancing partners from the various American Legions. They both would have a seat in the front row, would hold court and entertain all of our friends during the event, and clap and yell the loudest when I hit the floor and when I finished, regardless of the outcome.
But I will carry them both in my heart as I take the dance floor. This is for you, Mr. and Mrs. Bohnke. I hope I make you proud.
