Shama and I went to visit my grandparents at their new place last week.  Most nights they have some sort of event, and this night was no exception:  It was the coronation ceremony for the king and queen.  I’m not sure what criteria is involved in selecting a king and queen, but they were both over 100 years old.  We met the king, but never saw the queen.

Shama: Where’s the Queen?
Gram: She went to bed.

They also had dancing and a 3-piece jazz band.  The band didn’t know “There’s A Rainbow ‘Round My Shoulder” but they did play Hava Nagila at one point so people could dance the hora.

Now, when most people do the hora they rock the concentric circles and maybe some of those arm spins, but my grandma always wants to do this dance where people go through people’s arms and then get tangled up and put arms on shoulders and form lines and, well, it’s very complicated.  No one ever gets it right to her satisfaction — including those of us at Lincolnwood Place last week.  At one point, years ago, after failing to teach it to several of her grandchildren, she muttered, “that’s why none of you are married!”

Well, guess what, Gram, I know how to do it now.  Next hora, you’re gonna see some skills.

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