Growing up I ate potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner (just about every day), listened to “Oh Danny Boy” at nearly every family event, and always laughed at every one of my grandfather’s jokes. With his thick accent we would always get the “What is the largest city in the world?” And how could the answer be anything but “Dublin, because it’s Dub-lin everyday!” (it still makes me giggle). It would be a fair assessment to assume I came from very proud Irish roots.
As a little girl, my mother enrolled me in Irish Step Dancing lessons . If you have ever seen or heard of the Riverdance, or Lord of the Dance, it’s pretty much the same thing. It is a high energy dance that involves a lot of kicking, jumping and twirling, (not to mention very intricate foot work), all to the rhythm of an Irish jig or reel, without moving your arms. How does that not sound like fun!
My dance teacher always wanted us all to fulfill our dancing potential, so during my lessons it would be yells of “hop-two-three!”, “point your toes!”, “kick your butt!”, “shoulders back!” It was a pretty strict regimen. Classes would take place four to five times a week and would last between two to four and half hours.