Recently, my husband and I were asked to chaperon a young adult dance. Now, while my husband agreed to do this out of a sense of duty, I leapt at the opportunity. For those of you who have been following my blog from its inception know this girl, or should I say mid-aged woman now, loves to dance. So between checking dance cards, roaming hallways, keeping the Public Displays of Affection in check, or whatever else they asked me to do, you better believe I had plans for sneaking out on the dance floor.
At the night of the dance, fate in all its cruelty had me stuck out in the foyer checking dance cards. Okay, so my non-dancing husband was thrilled, but for the dancing queen here, this was torture. For almost two hours, I listened to thumping beats rolling out of the open gym doors behind me with nothing but toe tapping for solace. All right, so it started as toe tapping, but with each song, the infection of sound spread up my body. My tush wiggle in its seat, then my arms pumped in rhythm. Once my head started bobbing away, it was too late to save me. I jumped from my chair promising my husband, “I’ll be right back,” and sashayed my way into the gym.
What I saw inside floored me. Lit up smart phone screens were everywhere. Most of the kids weren’t dancing. They were texting. Here they had a perfectly good gym floor to get jiggy on, and they were mindlessly standing around with their thumbs getting all the workout. I guess there’s no need to worry about PDA when the love affair you’re having is with an electronic device, but seriously, what a waste of your youth.
As youth, do yourself a favor. Unplug, unplug, unplug—especially in social situations. These years you’re experiencing are fleeting. There are no do-overs. I promise you, the soulless screen is not where the fun’s at. You gotta talk to a girl/boy, face-to-face, before you ever get to lock lips with one. That alone should be incentive enough.
On a side note: We still don’t have another job yet, but my husband has an interview for one on the Monday this blog posts. I have my fingers, toes, arms, legs, and eyes crossed, hoping this job will work out. If you wouldn’t mind, please do the same. A few prayers couldn’t hurt either.