Soul Rhythm

It's not just the music; it's what the music did to the people listening that sticks in my mind.

Rock the Block was a Friday night party in downtown Winston-Salem. Playing on the blues stage was The Ladies Auxiliary, two white chicks and two black dudes rockin' the park. Not the headliners, but they could belt the blues.

But the crowd...the crowd was the show. The rains had just passed, mud prevailed in small grassy space directly at stage front. The sidewalk in front of our seats was mostly underwater, so the first row of seats became the ad hoc walkway. The teens danced in the muddy grass, the grown-ups stayed on the sidewalks.

One couple in particular was entertaining. The wiry, sharp-dressed gentleman, from crisp white shirt to polished shoes, was smooth as butter. Not big and flashy moves, but small, elegant. And the lady, though not so small, showed a love of the rhythm in her smiling eyes, the swing of her hips and the grand gestures of her bejeweled hands. We were enjoying the show...until...

...until the wiry gentleman beckoned insistently to a friend of ours, who promptly joined him on the rain drenched sidewalk. And then the big lady with big rhythm beckoned me and didn't seem to care if I could dance or not; she only cared that I had a smile on my face and rhythm in my soul.

Luvly joined me shortly and we rediscovered what everyone who taps their toes to the music instinctively knows; Listening to music is a pleasure; experiencing the music with your body gets it down in your soul.
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