The Dance

My grandparents’ love story started where it could have ended. A missed connection. While it’s not uncommon for family legacies to include “meet cute” stories, this one has at least one unique twist and “no kidding?!” turn.

Somewhere around 1926, my grandmother was dating a dapper dude named Kent who was destined to claim her heart and hand. Or so they both thought.

One of the reasons she felt this hometown heartthrob was destined to be “the one” is that her aforementioned (literal) hand was distinguished by a vein in the shape of a “K.” Therefore, it seemed like kismet they had a future together because that’s another “K” word that means destiny.

Then came the pivotal moment in the plot that would change the entire narrative of her life story, if not the seemingly prophetic vein.?

My teenage grandmother attended a dance where she met my grandfather.?He was new in town, she was shy, and there wasn’t an immediate spark. Oh, sure, he was a tall, charming, snappy dresser who could really cut a rug, but he was much older, an unknown, as it were, and he wasn’t Kent.

Though she initially rebuffed his expression of interest, she hadn’t realized fate attended the soirée with her. There was something undeniable at play, beginning with their names. Her name was Igerna and his name was Guerney. I kid you not.

(If you enjoy etymology, Igerna was King Arthur’s mother—old English Igraine—and Guerney goes back to William the Conqueror times. Yes, I’m done with that unrequested history lesson.)

While she remained dubious, he advanced to besotted, which is when another type of dance ensued. Courting.

That’s when things got real challenging for my grandfather, and not just in the love department either, but in the culinary resources department as well.?

You see, he was so sad the object of his affection wasn’t in a “requiting love” frame of mind that he couldn’t eat. Morning after morning his frugal, not-known-for-her-culinary-chops mother served and re-served the same two-egg breakfast that her son would consume–she was convinced–when he came to his senses.

Neither of those things happened.

He wasn’t having breakfast, nor was he having my grandmother’s rejection. He just needed a stronger wooing campaign. That’s when he came up with a plan that would feature his fancy footwork.??

He redoubled his efforts to convince his future lady love he was “the one” by cha-cha-cha-ing, jitterbugging, and foxtrotting his way into her heart by making sure he was her dance partner at every dance.

Being more of a “show” than a “tell” kind of guy anyway, this put him at a distinct advantage over poor ‘ole Kent who didn’t dance. Kent never stood a chance, but he did do a whole lot of standing on the sidelines as my grandparents twirled on by.

Igerna and Guerney were a natural fit as dance partners, becoming the featured couple at many a dance. Granted, there was a lot more dancing than talking, but that suited them both just fine. They moved together beautifully, gliding across the dance floor effortlessly, and they had fun together. Their love grew from there.

Because they danced in nightclubs—and restaurants that converted into nightclubs after hours—I only remember having one small peek at them tripping the light fantastic.

You know that feeling of being where you’re not supposed to be, but knowing you’re in the exact right place you’re supposed to be? It doesn’t happen often, but this was one of those times.

I’m maybe five years old, and I’m standing in front of a set of swinging doors. I’d heard music and wandered away from my mother to see where it was coming from. As I held the doors open, my grandparents glided by, ever so briefly, as I watched in awe. They were so tall, so glamorous, so happy. I craned my neck to see where they went, but that was it. Mere seconds that I’ve remembered for multiple decades. It was a brief glimpse at my grandparents in their element.

In taking the lead on the dance floor my grandfather, uncharacteristically, also took the lead in crafting their love story. Theirs would be a 50-year-plus authentic marriage that was a tango through time interspersed with marital quick steps testing their love and their bond.

Throughout it all, dance remained the cornerstone of their marriage, allowing them to speak in a language they both understood.?Before we were all talking about what our love languages are they already knew what that meant. She needed words and him, not so much. That would lead them into a different kind of spin, but they would turn it into a dance that gave them a way to turn it all around.

?Isn’t that what a marriage—what a relationship, what a partnership—based on unconditional love truly is? Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow, but most of the time you intuitively move together with synchronized choreography that only the two of you can do. Together.?

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