My friend Tipper Pressley wrote about a ‘clogging adventure’ this morning. I loved the post!

I love clogging; it pains me that I can no longer do it with ease and agility. I have never danced with a group, but good stepping music has always got me going. My dad and I used to clog with my niece playing fiddle for us at family gatherings. Sadly none of the rest of the family has carried on the tradition, I am sorry for that loss. I have two other clogging stories: I felt ‘out of place’ but for different reasons. A few years back, a family member made it possible for me to attend Fan Fair in Nashville along with a good friend, two of my daughters and a niece. Roaming around the streets of Nashville, we came upon the Country Music Hall of Fame. The ‘Opry dancers’ were performing outside, as the other girls went in to look at the Hall, I stayed to watch.

The music got to me from head to toes and soon I was clogging along with them, I thought out of view behind some landscaping bushes. I did not realize that someone had seen me, the music stopped and one of the dancers came over and asked me to come up and join them for a set. I did, I was tickled pink and possibly red with embarrassment to be invited. But I really felt honored.

My daughters were inside, near the  front windows, watching and taking a few pictures as I literally danced my slip on shoes off on the concrete. One went flying through the air!

Another time, youngest daughter and her husband accompanied me to a county fair to attend a Charlie Daniels concert.

Caught up in his magic, I was clogging next to the stage when some of his entourage noticed and were clapping the beat and egging me on. I did not know what to do when Charlie finished the piece and I was introduced to him personally by one of those watching me. I was given a tour shirt, which is still one of my prized possessions.

In neither situation did my girls make any effort to act like they knew the ‘little old lady’ who was dancing.